Riding on the prison bus, Pam wondered how she got to this situation. She once had it all: Light brown hair and lovely hazel eyes with flecks of gold, and a heart-shaped face she was cute rather than beautiful, but exceptionally cute. Her body had filled out very nicely by the time she was a Sophomore which made her even more popular with the boys. She had been captain of the cheerleaders, prom queen—even valedictorian. But that was at Liberty High School in western Iowa, a city—town really—with a population of 8000—on a good day. A young woman with a lot of spirit, she yearned to go to where there was action, excitement, more than cornfields and county fairs where the largest pig was the big news of the day.

Then she met Justin. He was handsome and older. He also had that dangerous bad boy air that young women found attractive. He was exciting. So a week after graduating, she had run away from her mundane Iowa life and followed him on the road—but not before she had cleared her father's safe of his reserve money, knowing where he kept the combination written on his desk blotter. She fled Iowa with Justin in his beat-up car heading south, where there was excitement and unknown opportunities for a young woman.

By the time they hit Georgia, his cocaine use and profligate spending had burned through all she had stolen. When they hit Florida they were broke and almost out of even gas money, even sleeping in his car. Then he had gone into a grocery store with a pistol she didn't know he even had. A few minutes later, he had run out, firing at the store. He obviously hit one young bagger who fell and then was hit multiple times by a checkout woman and the night manager, both armed with private concealed guns. She was shocked and didn't know what to do when the first police cars arrived and she was arrested, still sitting in the rusting caddie. Two days later, she found herself in front of Florida county judge Rufus Charlemagne.

The prosecutor painted a grim picture of her as a wild and criminal accomplice while her court-appointed lawyer couldn't care less and offered only a perfunctory defense. As the case was held without a jury, Judge Charlemagne quickly found in favor of the prosecutor. And now she was on a prison bus heading toward two years of incarceration in Florida. She wasn't even allowed to phone her parents in Iowa. Soon, too soon, the armored bus passed through a barbed wire fence and she and three other prisoners were marched off and into the custody of three baton-wielding guards. With a few casual swats, they were forced into the bland concrete bastion.

Her first day she was deloused and assigned a uniform, number, and cell. That evening she went to the showers. Standing naked under the pathetic and too cold spray, one fellow inmate moved to her side. "I pity you girl, I really do."

"Why is that? Isn't having to serve two years for a crime I didn't really do bad enough?"

Another older woman heard this and said, "You don't understand, but you will. This is Metsimmee Prison for Women. It isn't really a Florida state jail, at all. Fuck no, it's run by a private corporation under contract to the state. They call themselves the 'Humane Rehabilitation Organization, LLC.' Hah! Ain't nothin' humane about the HRO. And in case you is ignorant, LLC means 'limited liability corporation.' I don't know all the writs and wherefores, but all it boils down to is that short of killin' you the guards can do jest about what they want to us an' no one gonna stop 'em. An' even if some court finds agin' 'em for somethin', they won't have to pay a cent.

"I'll tell you why Betty pities you. You're pretty, very pretty, and you got a very nice body—especially them tits. They like that here, so you can expect some special attention there. . ."

Pan's eyes opened in shock, so much shock that she missed the change of subject-object. "You mean rape? But, but that's illegal, a crime! They can't do that! Even though prisoners, we have legal rights."

The older woman, Marlene, just laughed. "Girl, this is Metsimmee Prison. Metsimmee. You got no rights but what they give you, and there ain't much o' that. The guards do whatever they want to us. Rape? If that's the worst o' it, you will be lucky. And the worst of all o' them is the warden—he tells some o' 'em things to do or jest let's the male guards do as they please. Yeah, there are a couple o' women guards; they can be really bad, too. They may not rape you—not as a man would—but rape you they will."

"But there are laws, Pam exclaimed. "Surely Florida checks on them. Makes sure that we are treated with some decency."

Marene laughed again. "Oh, the state sends an 'inspector' here—maybe two, three times a year—and the warden bribes him to report that all is well and legal here. HRO makes a lot of money runnin' places like this across the country. As long as Metsimmee turns a profit, corporate gives him a free hand to do as he pleases. That judge who sent you here is also on the payroll. He's paid well to send the youngest and prettiest here when he can." She examined Pam's nude body again. Large proud breasts. The chilly water made her rosy nipples erect at their tips. Tallish at 5"6', her cheerleading and tennis gave her a lithe, athletic form, flat muscular stomach and deep rib cage, the ribs clearly visible on either side of the depression between. Down between her thighs her pubic patch was a light brown tuft. "And you're both. No, girl, once they get a good look at you, you can expect very special attention." She pointed with her head to the large and ugly woman corrections officer standing just outside the showers, staring with undisguised lust at the sight of twenty naked women, shiny and wet. "That one is Felicity—can you believe it—an' she's a bad 'un. She likes women, if ya get what I'm sayin'. You can bet she will go straight to the warden to report on you.

"Here at Metsimmee it's easy to 'violate' some rule or other. An' even if you don't they will make something up—an' here at Metsimmee they punish violations with the whip. Oh, an' that inspector yore relying on? He isn't only bribed with money. He is also paid with access to the prisoners."

Pamela was shocked at that. The whip? No, they couldn't possibly do that, get away with that. It was barbarous, medieval. Just the idea made her shiver in fear and her creamy skin erupted in goosebumps, making her nipples even harder. She noticed the guard staring intensely at her, eyes wide and almost drooling. She shivered again. Oh, God, what had she gotten herself into? And what horrors awaited her in this place?

She fell into the routine of the place. Up at 6:00 and a count, then miserable breakfast. A few hours in the yard, then a miserable lunch. Then locked in her cell until a miserable supper. Another count, then lights out at 8:00. And all through the hours alone she thought of Marlene's words.

She had only been there a week when four guards did a surprise inspection of the cells. When they came to hers, they searched her then tossed the squalid mattress aside. The one she had come to know as Carl reached down and came up with a prison shiv, a toothbrush sharpened by rubbing the end against the concrete walls. Pamela's mouth opened in confusion which immediately turned to dread. "No, that isn't mine!" she exclaimed. "I've never seen that. It isn't mine I tell you!"

"It's your cell and your bunk, bitch. That makes it yours", Carl said with a sly smile. "Tomorrow mornin' after count you will be taken to the yard and punished for breakin' the rule against weapons. Twenty lashes across your back." Carl deliberately scheduled the cruel discipline for the morning so she would have the entire long night to think about it with anxious anticipation.

She didn't sleep at all that night. Promptly at 6:00 she stood, shivering with fear for the count, then two of the guards escorted her to the yard, each holding an arm. Behind her, the other inmates were marched out. As she emerged from the door she stopped and tried to back away when she saw what awaited her there. In the center stood a wooden scaffold, two sturdy uprights with a horizontal plank at the top. This time she had to be dragged forward to it. As she got closer, she saw that the plank had three holes, two small ones at the end and a larger one in the middle. Another guard, Eustace, was beside it. When she was almost there, he pulled the front of the board away and Gorham immediately understood. It was a horizontal pillory, a thing out of the Dark Ages. With three powerful guards for the job, it was only a moment before her wrists were placed against the smaller semicircles and her neck in the center one. The other half board was returned and now she stood between the posts, helpless with her head locked inside and her arms out at right angles to either side. Behind her the rest of the jailed women assembled in two lines. This wasn't the first time they had witnessed a beating and they knew what was required.

Standing behind her, Felicity addressed the women. Pam couldn't turn her head, but she could hear the woman clearly enough. "Number 334566 was found in possession of an illegal weapon during inspection. This is a serious offense that endangers all of you. The punishment is twenty lashes on the back." She turned to the frame. "Corrections Officer Lonigan, you will administer the discipline. Corrections Officer St. Clair, prepare the prisoner."

Eustace approached from the rear and she felt her shirt being cut up the center then the sides were yanked apart to expose her back. Next the scissors cut the middle strap of the plain uniform bra. The gray blouse still covered her front, but behind she was naked and vulnerable. She was terrified already, but her terror grew much worse when the muscular Carl Lonigan walked to her front. He raised one hand before her face. She let out a squawk of panic when she saw what he held. It was a whip, nine feet of braided black leather that tapered to a split tip. "You have a right to be afraid, girly," he said softly. "This is your first taste of the lash so I'm gonna make sure you remember it. You go ahead and scream all you want, but that won't make it hurt any less or get any pity outta me."

Lonigan moved away, to her left and several feet behind. He dropped the end of the blacksnake and shook it back. He looked at the expanse of bare skin before him a moment, choosing his target, then swept it forward with a twist of his shoulders to increase the speed. CRACKKT! The whip exploded across the middle of her back. Perhaps two seconds passed, then a full-throated bellow of suffering ripped from the girl's throat. Her feet danced and her body jerked wildly, but she was helpless on the pillory. Carl gave her a half a minute to fully experience the feeling, then launched another full-arm stroke an inch above the first. Again Pam Gorham wailed her agony over the yard. Thirty seconds later another crossed her torso drawing another screech.

The pattern of the scourging continued in this way until the whip struck ten times. For Pamela the ordeal was especially harrowing since she couldn't see him. There was no warning when the next impact would strike her; just a split second when she heard the sibilant hiss, then the hideous explosion of pain.

The guard stopped here so he could go to the miserable girl and inspect his work. He was well experienced and had been precise with his aim so the once smooth skin was now crossed with rising red lines about an inch apart from the shoulders to where the "dimples of Venus", those winsome depressions only sported by the youngest and most athletic girls, adorned her lower back. Her body was heaving as she sucked in air and he could see a patina of sweat emerging between the lines. Good, that will add to the next bit. He reached out and ran his fingers across several of the brighter stripes, those inflicted earlier, relishing how the bruised flesh rose up. The miserable girl whimpered at the touch. Even such a gentle caress was painful. Carl leaned forward until his head was close to hers. "Halfway through, girly," he whispered. "But this was just the introduction to the whip's kiss. Now I'm going to get down to the really severe beating." He returned to his place, but this time a foot or so further away. He focused on her captive body, then launched the black snake to it. Only this time, just the final foot of the whip struck the lower back.

"HEEEEEE! HEEEEEE! HEEEEEE!" Pam wailed. The slightly greater distance allowed the split tip to more savagely attack the skin, ripping a small tear in the flesh and drawing blood for the first time. Lonigan varied the earlier timing, now waiting three-quarters to a full minute between the lashes, one more small refinement to increase the torment. The next cut struck her and this time reached for the tender side just beneath the ribs, biting into it to produce a fresh droplet of gleaming scarlet and another strident scream from her. The next went to her shoulders, then down to her lower torso just above the gray skirt. After the fifth drew blood from the middle's side, the man took another step backward. This time the snake-tongue end went to the left center of the back to sting right atop her spine. A desperate shriek of agony followed every blow.

There were other lesser pains, lost in the appalling sensations afflicting her back, perhaps, but still adding to her anguish. Both of her wrists and her neck had abraded so thin tendrils of blood oozed down between her shoulders and stain the shirt cuffs. Then, too, the slight perspiration Carl was happy to see was now a heavy sweat, bright shiny drops that ran down her back and stung the cracks in her skin.

Five minutes later, the ghastly torture finally came to an end. The long slim legs that had danced so delightfully at the beginning sagged, bent at the knees. But for the immovable pillory holding her body erect, she would have collapsed to the ground. As it was, she was barely conscious, aware of nothing but the withering agony that consumed her brain.

Before she was freed from the frame, however, there was one final assault. While Carl coiled the bloody whip up again, Felicity went to Pam Gorham carrying a bucket. She dashed the contents, a strong brine, against the inflamed and bleeding body.

"AAHHHHHH! AAHHHHHH!" The wretched girl screeched, revived by this fresh violation to her senses. Pam wrenched against the unyielding pillory, her feet again prancing vigorously beneath her. Finally the contortions weakened and stopped. Felicity and Carl unlocked and removed the back of the plank. Gorham's form crumpled down, but Eustace was there to catch her and hold her above the ground. He took the opportunity to reach around to the front of her shirt and fondle the breasts. Even though she still wore the torn blouse, cutting the bra strap in back eliminated that support and the globes were soft and yielding in his hands and he felt his sex immediately stiffen in his pants.

It was only then that Felicity called a few of the prisoners over to return Pam to her cell. So weak was she from the vicious whipping that two had to drape her arms over their shoulders and half carry her between them, her feet dragging on the grass.

Once back in her cell, they gently laid her face down on her bunk. Marlene came in with a pail of water and several cloths. Gently, she bathed the girl's bleeding back and sides. Even so, just that careful touch on the rising red welts made her moan in pain. When she had done all that could be, the older woman gave her a new bra and shirt for her modesty and then left, leaving Pam prostrate and whimpering. Exhausted from the lack of sleep the night before and the grueling effort of enduring the flogging, eventually she fell into a restless sleep.

In the middle of the night, just seven or so hours after her punishment had ended, her cell door was opened, the sound waking her. She turned her head and saw Carl enter. "Get up, girly," he barked. "The warden wants to see you." She half turned, still groggy, but Lonigan didn't wait and pulled her roughly to her feet and out of the call. Gorham was taken along the corridor then down a flight of stairs to a basement room and pushed inside where she fell to her hands and knees. "On your feet, girly, and face the warden."

Pam struggled upright. There was a plain metal desk with a man sitting behind it. He wore an expensive looking shirt and a tie. This was the warden she knew immediately. The room was bare but for the desk and she guessed that this wasn't his luxurious personal office. Carl stood silently beside her trembling figure. The warden himself was in his fifties, fat, and she could smell the greasy sweat of his body from where she stood. He had little piggy eyes that were right now glittering with undisguised lust and cruelty. He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands on his bulging stomach.

"I have reviewed your infraction and I must say that I am disappointed with Mr. Lonigan, my senior corrections officer. He obviously didn't understand how seriously I take your offense. Making a potentially lethal weapon such as your toothbrush shiv imperils not only your fellow prisoners but my officers, as well. And," he said with a smirk, "I am not convinced that you have learned that, even with the punishment in the yard. Consequently," he continued, "I believe that a reinforcement of your lesson is required. I believe that an additional forty lashes should suffice. Serious infractions require serious reeducation, after all. But being a considerate and kindly man, I won't subject you to the whip again. No, for this—edification—I think the strap will be adequate."

Pam's back still hurt terribly and she could barely stand in front of the desk. "No, oh please no," she whimpered. My back hurts so much already. I couldn't take any more."

With a slight smile that chilled her, he said, "Oh, no, my dear, you don't understand. I know how much you must be suffering after the whip carved your back up." Now the smile became a lascivious grin. "No, this additional lesson will be on the front of your body. The way your shirt is sticking out, I'm sure it's impressive. I wouldn't want to damage that with something as harsh as the whip."

Pamela Gorham gasped in sudden horror. She could scarcely believe what she had heard. The front of her body!? The way her shirt stuck out?! He was talking about her breasts! No, oh no, oh dear God no, not that! Surely not that. . .

"Officer Lonigan," he ordered, "Take 334566 and secure her for the punishment."

It was only then that she registered some noises behind her as she stood, quaking before the desk. She looked back over her shoulder. The other ferret-faced guard, Eustace St. Clair, had dragged a duplicate of the frame in the yard into the room and was securing it to bolts set in the floor behind her.

"No, no, no, nooo!," she wailed. Carl grabbed her arm and wrenched her toward the thing, now anchored to the concrete. With a strength born of desperation, Pam fought against him, squirming like a crazed snake. She managed to get her arm free, but fell to the floor on her ass.

"Eustace, give me a hand here, will ya?" Lonigan said. "This bitch is slippery as an eel!" The other left the wood frame and the two dragged the panicked girl to it. Unlike the yard's scaffold this one stood on a single upright post. There was another difference. This horizontal plank had only two holes and was hinged on one side. With two of them working, it took only a moment to lock her sore abraded wrists within the board. It was only then that another horrid difference appeared. Eustace attached a separate extension that projected out in front of it with its own hole. Once firmly in place, this was opened and her neck locked inside. As in the yard, her feet were left unfettered. The men found a girl's spasmodic capering under torture amusing. In her terror, the teenager didn't notice that the holes of this frame were lined with leather, but with dread purpose. This would be no simple back whipping. The hideous torture inflicted in this room would be so intense that there was genuine danger of the victim ripping open her wrists or neck and allowing blood loss to cut the ordeal short. No such premature escape could be permitted. The two guards stepped back to admire their handiwork. The way Pam's arms were secured pulled them back behind her head. This drew her shoulder blades closer together. Pam was horribly aware of the way this binding forced her chest to protrude into the room. Then a final refinement also missing from the yard frame was employed. Pamela felt a touch against her back on the level of her underarms. She couldn't see it, but it was a small padded bolster at the end of a horizontal metal bar. The end attached to the frame was threaded, so Eustace could turn a small wheel and extend it forward, pushing against the prisoner's back and forcing it to arch. Eustace turned the wheel until the strain on her spine was just enough to bring discomfort, but not injure. Once firmly locked within the pillory, the warden spoke again. "Cut that shirt away!" he ordered. "The punishment must be on naked flesh. Besides," he grinned, "I am eager to see if those breasts live up to their promise."

Pamela was panic-stricken when the smaller guard approached her front. He impatiently unbuttoned the rough prison blouse, pulling it apart to expose the lush breasts filling the plain gray jail brassiere. He took a brief moment to grasp them, but not for long. Encased in the support they weren't as supple as when he felt them after the whipping. He accepted a pair of scissors from Carl and reached up. He started with the arms, cutting away the blood-stained shirt from shoulders to wrists until it fell to the floor at her feet. Then he raised the tool in front of her face and smiled, drawing out the terror before going for the bra. He snipped the shoulder straps first, but the enclosed globes were so substantial that it didn't fall. Grinning obscenely, he placed the blades around the thin remaining strip between the mounds. One final look into her lovely hazel eyes, now filled with terror, and he snipped through it. Finally the plain bandeau fell away. Now the lovely young woman was completely nude to the waist.

Both guards and even the warden drew in their breath at the sight. They had seen some of her torso exposed during the back whipping, but not the front of it. Now that her entire upper body was exposed, the appearance it presented with her back arched this way was something special. The basic frame had been altered for this specific result. Securing the victim's wrists a foot behind her head would have been effective enough, but adding the bolster guaranteed that her bared torso would thrust forward and present her chest to its best advantage for the torture. It especially forced the breasts even further out, making them insist on attention. Pamela's feminine globes, jutting out this way, were magnificent—there was no other word for them. The breasts of many of the women who had come to this room—most, actually—were sometimes heavy, even sagging, despite the binding. Given their size, Pam's might have had some minimal overhang, but with her arms raised there was none. Those of this cute 19-year old were proud, arrogant even. Enhancing the spectacular display was their skin. She had obviously spent considerable time on Florida beaches wearing a tiny swimsuit. Her arms and throat, even her belly was perceptibly bronzed, but there were lighter lines down from the shoulders that met at her chest where the bikini cups had protected her breasts from the sun. There the flesh was smooth and creamy white. At their tips sat tantalizing nipples with broad aureoles a dainty pale coral color. Even as the men stared, the center points grew out in the cool basement air. Even so, they were clearly not as erect as they could get, but an arousing sight nonetheless with their potential for the future ordeal. Pam's entire upper body was bared, of course, the elegant stomach and gently rounded abdomen, all sensitive flesh in its own right, but even those graceful curves couldn't command more than passing interest compared to what perched above.

The mounds trembled from her fear, quivering in a most appealing way. They fairly begged for the whip. Before he turned from the scaffold, Eustace grabbed the sides of her skirt and tugged them down her sides until they were stopped by the swelling of her hips. This exposed her lower abdomen a couple of inches below the dainty navel. The three men took another moment to admire the sight of her svelte topless form. Then, from a collection hanging on a wall, Carl selected the dread instrument for her punishment, the strap. He remembered the horror in her eyes when he showed her the bullwhip and decided to do it again. He walked to her front holding it, but first wanted to examine what he had to work on better. He couldn't help but stare at the distended breasts. This close he saw just how silky and milk white they were. He could even see a faint webbing of fine bluish blood vessels through the translucent skin. He followed one down to its nipple. The aureole was a demure rose pink, perfectly round and not the more common oval most women had when bound with their arms raised. There was a sprinkling of dainty bumps across the surface, a sight he found surprisingly arousing. The centers stuck out a bit, but from his experience could definitely get larger and more erect. Breaking away from the examination with some effort, he finally performed the action he initially intended and lifted the instrument of her imminent torture in front of her face. It was a three-foot-long flat strap of brown leather, an inch wide, attached to a wood handle darkened from much use. Carl made sure to show Pamela the trio of holes drilled through the final foot. Pam had no idea what they were for, but still shivered when she saw them. Whatever they did, adding them was deliberate and could only mean something bad for her. In reality, they were a subtle refinement that increased the speed, and so the force of the blows by limiting even the minimal the effect of air resistance. As an added benefit, the holes would raise painful little blisters on bare skin. He slashed it through the air a couple of times so she could hear the wicked sound it made. Satisfied with the demonstration, he spoke quietly to her.

"This is what I shall use to hurt your body, girly. I prefer the whip, but the warden decided otherwise. Not that it really matters for you. You will suffer intolerable pain and forty lashes is still forty lashes. It will also produce a nice red flush on your skin, especially these splendid tits. Just so you understand, that is this particular frame's sole purpose. It was designed for no other reason than to offer a female's naked breasts to the whip." As those macabre words were penetrating her mind, Carl lifted a hand to her right mound. He gently fondled it, almost as a lover would, a tender intimacy she found more loathsome than rough abuse. His fingers moved to the delicate nipple to tease the teat, brushing it lightly back and forth compelling it to stiffen a bit. "I prefer a woman's paps rigid and erect." he said. "It makes them excellent targets for the whip. Besides, I think it makes them sexier. There are many ways to get them that way. My personal favorite is sticking them with red-hot needles, but the warden won't let me do that today. Just as well. That kind of burning hurts so much it would distract you from tonight's primary discipline. It doesn't much matter. After the strap kisses your teats a few times, they will get as swollen and hard as I like. Well, enough talk. Lets get started, eh?"

Terrified by the casual way this man was describing the monstrous torture he was about to inflict on her semi-nude body, Pamela tried one last desperate tactic. "Please," she begged piteously. "Don't do this. You don't have to do this. If you release me I will let you fuck me. I'll even give you a blow job. It will be a good one. I've done a few. It will be good, I promise." Her voice rose, became more panicky. "Please, please, please don't hurt me! My back is already so very sore. I can't take any more. PLEASE!"

Carl just laughed. "Girly, I can fuck you or get you to suck my dick, anyway and you will beg to to it once I start. You see I love whipping sweet young girls like you. I love watching their naked bodies writhe and hearing them scream in agony. It excites me. It makes my dick hard." He chortled again. "Fuck, girly, it's stiff already and I haven't even begun. No, you're gonna get strapped hard and without any pity. I'd say prepare yourself, but there really ain't no way to do that. Best thing you can do is try not to scream. If a woman don't keep the warden entertained, he gets bored and the beating stops. That rarely happens, but you're young and strong, so maybe you'll be able to. Good luck, girly."

He stepped over to her right, close enough that the supple leather belt could reach the entire front of her topless body. In a panic, she wrenched at the holes in the wood holding her wrists behind her head, frantic to somehow free her hands to cover and protect her vulnerable body, but it was futile and only made her lovely white breasts jiggle delightfully on her chest. Carl eyed his victim intently, choosing his first target. Then a loud SMACKKT! filled the room as the strap flashed out to burst across Pamela's abdomen just beneath the navel. It was only with great effort that she kept the scream behind her lips, but there was no mistaking the grimace on her face. The next crossed above it so the end smacked the tender concave side. Higher again to cross the well defined ribs just beneath the heaving breasts. Another to the same spot followed as fast as the man could deliver it. There would be no pattern to this beating. He returned to the soft midriff, the rib cage again, then two fast ones over her abdomen, low, just above the hem of the skirt. Pamela's body tensed to every one, emitting a high-pitched whine after each. He had just pulled his arm back again when the warden called to him, "That's enough down there! Get on with it!"

Lonigan knew what the warden meant and was already planning on just that. Gorham's proud white breasts had been calling to him from the start. Her lower torso showed the marks from the belt, ruddy inch-wide stripes. Lonigan loved the look of them. He could even see a few small darker blisters already rising in the middle of a couple of them. And he knew that the porcelain skin of the young girl's lush mounds would display them even better.

"C'mon, Lonigan, get on with it!" the warden repeated.

"Yeah," Eustace called out. "Go ta work on them fine titties! Make 'em dance!"

Yes, massah, Carl thought, but in truth he was just as eager. His eyes narrowed as he took aim. SMACKKKT! For the first time the strap went for Pamela Gorham's jutting breasts, a vicious blow across their upper slopes. The supple leather bit deep, causing them to distort and bulge out beneath. At this new attack to her supremely sensitive globes, Pam could no longer hold her cries in check and a loud wail of pain filled the small chamber. The scream was still in her throat while they capered and the man went right back to them, a ferocious rising uppercut that exploded against the tender under curves that made them lift high on her chest. As the strap pulled away, the soft flesh shook and jiggled like separate living things. Even after shuddering back their original elegant pear shape, the naked breasts continued to tremble. The girl's cry died just long enough for her to suck in a fresh breath then burst out again.

God damn! Carl expected Gorham's breast whipping to be good, but not this good! He felt a pang between his legs and gasped. His dick had suddenly gotten so hard that it was painful. He reached into his pants and straightened it to a less uncomfortable position. He preferred to administer these basement sessions without his pants on when he could. He found that the sensation of erotic pleasure was greatly enhanced when his erection was fully exposed. Only the warden didn't allow it when he was present. He glanced over and saw that Eustace was similarly discomfited, but Eustace was poor white trailer trash, no better than a rutting pig, so he just rubbed the bulge in front of his pants with no care about how it looked. The warden was still sitting, but now leaning forward, eyes bright with lust. He had one hand on the desk, but the other was below it. From the movement of that arm, Lonigan knew that he had his fly open and was playing with his manhood, enjoying himself until the whipping was over and he would be the first to fuck her. Sometimes he would have one of the inmates come down while the other was getting beaten. She would have to kneel under the desk and use her hands and mouth to please him. Rank surely had its privileges. Carl didn't much care, though. He knew that the fat old man was only good for one climax in a day, so let him prolong his pleasure any way he likes. Hell, son, he said to himself, without the warden, you wouldn't get to do things like this at all. Well, enough idle thought. I have a pretty young woman to torture.

The brief interlude had given Gorham time to recover—and also realize how bad this ordeal was going to be. Her belly was throbbing, but it was the two stripes that had scourged her breasts that burned the most. Oh God, she thought, how will endure thirty more? She couldn't turn her head, but she could see the big guard out of the corner of her eyes as he turned back toward her. She couldn't help herself even though she knew now that he enjoyed it and started pleading again. "Take me down. Please, oh please, take off this awful thing. You can't know how bad it hurts, you can't. Please, I'm just a poor girl. I didn't do anything to deserve this. I didn't know Justin had a gun, I thought he was just going to buy a pack of smokes. And, and, and that toothbrush wasn't mine. It wasn't! You must believe me! Please don't hurt me any more!"

Carl stopped his arm and stepped up to her, standing directly in front so he could look into her eyes. They were beautiful, especially now that they were filled with terror. And she, of course, could look into his dark brown ones, seeing not pity, but undisguised cruelty and lust. He transferred the belt to his left hand so he could use the right to fondle Pamela's bare breasts again with the same soft affection that had so horrified her the first time. For the guard, it was just another small refinement he had learned to increase the psychological anguish. It told the woman that not only wouldn't her breasts be spared, but that the torturer was going to focus on them. That he enjoyed it with the same thrill a boy felt petting his girlfriend behind the barn was just an added pleasure. "No, girly, I told you. I like hearing women beg. I like watching them squirm. And I like hurting their naked bodies. You should count yourself lucky that you aren't completely nude and just topless. There are things we can do between a woman's legs that are truly loathsome, unendurable. I wish you were nude right now, girly. Still," he mused, "Tits as delectable as yours don't make me regret that much. He continued caressing the globes the whole time he was speaking. Soft as only a girls could be, yet still resilient. They trembled under his fingers. He finished by giving Pam's nipples a moment's specific attention. "No, I don't regret that too much at all," he purred. Then briskly, "Now let's continue, eh? The warden is getting restless." He moved back and immediately launched the next stroke, exactly like the last one to punish the undersides and set the globes frolicking on her chest to provoke a fresh wail of pain.

Carl now flogged Pam in earnest. Lash after lash after lash, each one venomously punishing naked feminine flesh. He varied his attack, too. Sometimes returning to the ribs, stomach, or midriff. But it was the bare breasts that took the majority of the strokes, obviously his favorite target. On a few of those he expertly adjusted his motion so that the tip reached into the exquisitely sensitive armpit. Down below her, the athletic legs beneath the skirt capered in the lascivious dance of the whip. When he reached twenty, he decided to up the ante. Her breasts had taken many lashes, but it only the tops and bottoms. Those areas were already red, flushing from the leather's impacts there, but there was still a band right across the centers that remained snowy white. The band that encompassed her nipples. . .

When he reached fifteen, Lonigan started on them with a diagonal cut that struck the left pap only, covering it with only small semicircles of pink showing on either side of the dark brown leather. Incredibly, Pam's shriek was even louder and more strident than the ones before. Hard to believe such a small girl could make such a sound. It was still echoing through the room when he struck the right nipple, compressing the mound so the inflamed flesh bulged out above and below. Allowing her to savor that new sexual agony, he returned to the other parts of her body already flogged. At twenty he went for the nipples again with the same strategy for beating them, one to each, rewarded with two more shrill screeches. Content for the moment and because the young woman was clearly weakening from the exertion of enduring such demonic suffering, he stopped to give her a break. Too much pain too quickly could make a wench pass out and he wanted her fully awake and aware so she could feel and appreciate every last ounce of pain.

He moved to her front again to inspect the results of his effort. Except for some small areas, the largest on either side of the nipples, the entire front of her body was heavily streaked by different angry shades of red. There were clearly discernible striations left from the edges of the strap, parallel to delineate each welt. Where some of those lines crossed there were tiny spots of darker plum-purple. Pamela's face was twisted, the eyes wild when not screwed shut. Tears ran down the cheeks. Her chest heaved with every rapid breath, sucking her stomach in, outlining every rib clearly under the florid skin, and making the bare breasts quiver.

Carl left her then, walking back to the desk. The warden was breathing almost as heavily as the girl was, sweating despite the cool air. He also noticed that there was a darker wet mark on the front of Eustace's pants. Clearly they were enjoying the spectacle as much as he. There was a thermos on the desk and he poured himself a cup of coffee. "She really is something, isn't she?" he commented to both.

"Yes, yes, she most certainly is," the warden said in a shaky voice. He withdrew the hidden hand to mop his forehead, before it reached his face Carl saw that it was already wet. He knew that his own penis had been busy inside his trousers; he could feel the slick wetness on its turgid head. And why not? There had never been a female inmate in his memory who had a lustier body and more perfect tits to beat. He took his time with the coffee, almost ten minutes before he set the cup down. He glanced back to the topless girl so perfectly offered on the pillory. Her chest was not rising as quickly and her breathing had slowed. Even the mewling whimpers she made when he examined her had stopped. Okay, time to continue. She had taken twenty-two, so there was still another eighteen to go. I wonder if she realizes that? Probably not. I think I will inform her of the count. Yes, she will certainly appreciate that.

He stopped before her once more. Pamela's awareness was back well enough, although there was still a frantic look in her eyes. "Well, girly, you have stood up very well to your punishment. You will be happy to know that it's almost over." Carl saw the look of desperate hope take over her face, but this, too, was part of the plan, so he could then dash it. "Yes, you are over halfway through. The sentence was forty lashes and you have already taken twenty-two." He smiled. "That means only eighteen more to go."

The effect was instantaneous when his words penetrated her mind and the horrified look returned to her eyes, bordering on panic. "No, no, you can't mean that. You can't! Eighteen more? Eighteen? But I already hurt so much, so very much. How will I endure eighteen more?! No I can't take it. I'll die!"

"No, you won't die. I have studied female anatomy and I'm very experienced. Think of me as your doctor. No, you won't die, but you will wish you had. There toward the end you will beg me to kill you just to end the pain." He used his left hand to play with her breasts this time. The globes had been so ample before the flogging that he couldn't be sure, but they seemed slightly larger now, the tissue beneath swollen from the pounding they had taken. The skin was hot, too. He knew it would be, but it still amused him. Every caress, however gentle, produced high-pitched whines from the girl. He was gratified to see a scattering of blisters on the left's side where the end of the leather had landed, taut and engorged with blood. There was even one rising on the side of the teat, just now growing out and hardening. He found the sight of it intensely erotic and felt his erection twitch in his groin. It had never softened since he started the relentless beating, but this was something unique and his penis responded. He moved to her nipples and used his fingertips to have some fun with the caps, using one index finger to tease the tips, moving from one to the other, flicking them back and forth playfully. After the strap had had kissed them a few times, both teats were definitely larger, almost as bloated and erect as he wanted. His finger could feel the hard bleb on the left one with every brush across it and felt his penis grow back to full rigid erection in his pants and had to stop a moment to reach in and move it before it started hurting again. Fuck, I really wish the warden would let me take my pants off so I could really enjoy this game! That's the second greatest erotic delight, right after screwing, with a pretty one like this. Well, wishing never made anything change. And it was time to administer the next set.

This time Carl went to Pamela's left side, deliberately standing just within her peripheral vision. A pitiful bleat of abject terror gave voice to her anticipation of the hideous pain to come.

Lonigan switched to a backhand motion now. Years of cruel practice made him as accurate this way as forehand with just as much power. He set himself, then twisted his shoulder to send the supple leather over Gorham's belly so the end slapped against the tender right side. He swung two more to address the abdomen and thin skin over her rib cage, then it was time for the abundant breasts again. The first was a savage uppercut to lift them and then shudder back into position for the next, a horizontal stroke to cross the upper slopes and seek out the that side's armpit. Then he addressed the naked nipples again for the next three. The only disadvantage to the backhand was that it wasn't well suited to diagonal strokes, a limitation he solved by the simple expedient of just striking the middle of the breasts so the leather punished both aureoles at the same time, flattening the paps and compressing the distended globes. He made sure that every bestial stroke over them bit into the side of the breast so the holes at the end of the fiendish implement could form blisters there, too.

Carl held up then. The girl had taken thirty now, so there were only ten left and he wanted her to feel each one to the full. He had a heartless method to ensure that. He went back to the table, but returned almost immediately with a small capsule encased in white silk webbing. He raised it to Pam's face and cracked it open just beneath her nose. The girl's nostrils flared at the strong ammoniacal odor. Her head jerked up in response, but not much because of the way her neck was held within the extension in front of the pillory. She snorted and her eyes opened wide in reaction. Jolted back to full alertness by the smelling salts, she became instantly aware of the appalling agony afflicting her body, every inflamed nerve end shouting its own outrage to her brain in the same instant. The utter intensity of the pain stunned her a moment, but then a full-throated bellow of misery erupted from her, awesome in its volume and intensity.

This time Carl didn't waste the time to talk to the girl, but immediately returned to her right side. The effect of the smelling salts was temporary, a few minutes at most, and there were still ten more kisses from the strap to inflict. Lonigan increased the velocity of these lashes, pausing only ten seconds between them. He started at her lower midriff and worked up her thrashing body. One over her stomach just under the navel, then another the same distance above it. Next the lower rib cage, then the upper almost touching the globes. Every one was given a little added reach, the reason for that immediately clear. The slight variation ensured that the end of the leather would find flesh where most of the blisters were. Every lash burst some of them, causing hideous pain and starting rivulets of blood-stained fluid to ooze down her side.

As overwhelming as the agony was, the inhalant denied Pamela Gorham the escape of unconsciousness that would have happened from the screaming nerves otherwise. Wails, shrieks, and screeches ripped out of her mouth nonstop. In between were almost inchoate pleas. "No more! No more! Please god, k-k-kill me! Please! Too much, too much. Ah god, the pain, the pain, the pain! Kill me! B-beg you! K-kill me! Stop the pain! No more, no more, no more! P-P-Please kill me, k-kill me!"

Carl was tempted to say, "I told you so," but Pam wouldn't have heard it, so consumed was she by her suffering. Only six more to go and he was going to ensure they were the most excruciating, so he went a final time to the leaping naked breasts. One to the bottom curves. One to the upper slopes including the hollow under the arm, cracking more blisters open. Then he pitilessly sent the last four to the very middle of the breasts, monstrous lashes that attacked the sensitive nipples, and punished the bloated teats in their center. Wanting to maximize the agony, the guard only waited five seconds between them. The concentration on that small band of flesh ensured that every stroke burst blisters across it and on the side of the breast. He saved the final one for a personally important place. He carefully shortened his reach so the end of the strap impacted directly on the swollen tip to violently rupture the hard purple blister there that had so aroused him many lashes ago.

At long last the fiendish punishment was over, although the convulsing girl could hardly grasp that. There was one last indignity they would subject her to. Carl dropped the vicious strap, the final foot dripping with the fluid so gruesomely milked from dozens of burst blisters. Knowing the routine, Eustace immediately joined Carl at the pillory. Carl pulled down the zipper on the side of the skirt and pulled it away. Next the panties were wrenched from her loins so the girl was now totally nude. The contrast of the pale skin beneath her waist to the grotesquely discolored upper torso, a variegated mix of bright reds and angry patches of plum, mulberry, and darker purple, was striking. Eustace had brought a couple of leather strips with clips on both ends with him. He gave one to Lonigan then they knelt down and each grabbed a leg. There were steel rings embedded in the concrete floor a couple of feet in front of the frame. One clip was attached to a ring on either side, the leather-wrapped a few times around the ankles, then the other clip was attached to the same ring that anchored its strip. They had to pull on the girl's legs to reach. The task done, they stood. Now not only were Pamela's wrists and head held by the pillory, but her body was pulled forward at an angle, legs spread a yard apart, straining it, but not enough to cut off the air to her already overworked lungs. The lewd binding parted her creamy thighs to reveal the plump lips at their junction. Once more Carl cracked an ammonia ampule under Pam's nose with the same violent response. A loud whine verified that she was back to full consciousness. They could have raped her without smelling salts, of course—they were all still fiercely aroused by the sadistic torture—but an awake and aware woman made for a better fuck.

He had scarcely finished when the warden came waddling up, his prick sticking out obscenely from the front of his trousers. With a growl of lust, he went up between Gorham's spread legs and shoved it into her. He was so excited from watching the prolonged beating that he only managed half a dozen thrusts before he groaned and gripped her hips tight. His eyes closed in bliss, he shot his load inside her. Less than a minute later, he pulled his dick out, already drooping. He stumbled away. "Alright," he said to the guards as he stumbled away, "You can have her now."

As senior, Carl went next, hurriedly yanking his pants and boxers off, finally able to free the rigid shaft that had been demanding release since he started Pam's punishment. Stepping quickly in between Gorham's trembling legs, he immediately thrust it into her. Damn the bitch is tight, he thought. Ain't nothing like fresh young pussy. He wasn't in as much of a hurry as the warden once he was inside her. He pushed his hips in until he penetrated the girl all the way until his balls touched the gaping labia. He placed his hands on the sides of her chest. His rigid penis twitched along its full length with the feeling under his fingers. On her left side, they slid a bit from the lubrication provided by the viscous fluid from ruptured blisters. The holes in the strap had created about a hundred of the taut little things, so there were still plenty remaining that he could feel mixed with the red-streaked liquid on the left and twenty more still completely intact on the right-side skin. The feel of the hard bumps, and the knowledge of how excruciatingly painful they were, inflamed his sadistic excitement. He then moved his hands up to cover the savagely abused breasts. He kneaded them, abandoning his earlier gentle fondling and giving in to his savage lust. Rather than pumping in and out, he remained buried to the hilt and let her anguish do the work. With every squeeze of her agonized breasts, the inner walls of her vagina milked his cock like a maid pulling on some cow's udder. Pamela had been an athlete, so the muscles there were unusually strong and rippled all the way up his shaft. Buried as deeply as he was, the strongest contractions were against the swollen head. Even trying to prolong his orgasm, the sadistic pleasure he got from whipping her, especially the lusty nude breasts, was bringing him to the edge sooner than he wanted. Oh well, a hard dick has a mind of its own, so just go with it and hand the controls over to the new pilot. The sensations at the base and sack mounted even faster, so he moved his fingers to the aching nipples for the finish. He pinched and twisted the rigid teats he had so recently tortured. Even if he didn't know how much this vicious groping must burn, Pam's groans of agony would have told him. The pain of having her throbbing nipples pinched so soon after they were whipped made her vagina grasp his penis even more powerfully until the constriction actually started to hurt. That exquisite sensation was all it took to push him over the brink. Remarkably like the warden, he moved his hands to her hips, shut his eyes, and groaned with the erotic delight between his legs. The powerful contractions started a second later and he felt the first jet of hot seminal fluid erupt into her vagina. Spurt after molten spurt gushed from the pulsating shaft until he vaguely wondered how much more there could be. The exquisite sensations finally subsided, then ceased, but he remained buried inside her, determined to experience every last bit of carnal enjoyment from the rape. It was only when he felt himself start to soften that he finally moved his hips back to pull the it out. He actually felt a bit light-headed from the intensity of the rape. God damn, this bitch is a great fuck. Possibly the best he ever had. He didn't realize that he was still standing between her trembling thighs until Eustace exclaimed, "C'mon, c'mon, ya bastid! Yore finished, so get outta the way and let me get a taste o' that prime meat! Lonigan did as he was told, uncharacteristically compliant with his underling. Eustace had already stripped off his pants and rushed between the inviting thighs for his turn.

Carl turned and picked his clothes up. The warden was back behind his desk, using a wet cloth to clean himself off, but he always was a meticulous asshole. Carl was not as fastidious and just pulled his pants on, not even bothering with the boxers. He walked over to the desk, still amazed at the faint feeling of unsteadiness. When he got there, the warden had finished his cleaning. He looked up at his senior guard. "I've never had better," he said with a surprising familiarity, not like the man at all. "Here's what I want you to do. We keep this one for ourselves. Tell Felicity hands off. That dyke would ruin her and that damn state inspector won't get near her, either. When St. Clair is finished take her down and then carry her to the infirmary—no way she can walk after this punishment. Tell Dr. Wilson to take good care of her. I figure it will be three weeks to a month before she recovers enough for another session. Fortunately the strap doesn't lacerate the skin and those blisters should heal up just fine. When she's fully recuperated, you find some other 'rule violation' and bring her back down here." He laughed, also not like him at all. "Once she sees where you are taking her that should scare the bejesus out of her. She will probably put up a fight, so take St. Clair with you. I don't want her to damage herself on the way. I'm already thinking of what we do to her the next time. The pillory did a great job, but I want something new the next time. I think we might tie her to the whipping bench. Naked from the start, and definitely face up with those superb breasts of hers. I'll have you take the strap to her again, but first I think an hour with the hot needles—we might have to tie off the bases to make them stick up properly—but that shouldn't damage her overmuch. That should be suitably agonizing, but she should endure that well enough. No, 556334 will be good for many more sessions down here before her term is up. But I won't have her blabbing about how Metsimmee treated her." He smiled again. "And in two years a lot can happen."