Ravishment University
LITERATURE: Tales of Ravishment, Fantasy Rape Stories, BDSM and other erotic visions => Literature => Authors and Their Stories => Topic started by: Neighbor on March 10, 2012, 10:17:39 PM
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Fun in the park (http://ravishu.com/forums/index.php?topic=19513.0)
Tracey and the Muggers (http://ravishu.com/forums/index.php?topic=19482.0)
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I'd like to add a story, please. If this is the wrong place to post it I'm sorry and please (if it's OK of course) move it to the right section.
Sorry to be a nuisance!
Tracey the Movie Star
It was Saturday morning in Westfield and for Tracey Smith that meant only one thing – a leisurely day of retail therapy. She loved to check out the town’s large shopping mall and buy herself clothes, make-up, perfume, jewellery and various accessories. Shopping made a pleasant change from the stress of her job with the advertising agency, where she had to endure the lecherous attentions of her boss Mr Chambers and his son John as well as trying to knock the two trainees, Lucy and Emily, into some kind of shape.
She’d turned up at the mall that morning and was trying on shoes in a department store when Lucy and Emily came in. Her heart sank as she saw they’d recognised her and were coming over to talk to her.
‘Hello, girls,’ said Tracey.
‘Hi, Tracey,’ said the girls.
Tracey nodded at them pleasantly enough as she regretfully put back the pair of Gucci shoes she’d just tried on. They were way out of her price range.
‘Tell you what,’ said Lucy, ‘we’d really appreciate it if you could help us out,’
‘What do you want from me?’ Tracey asked.
She didn’t like the sound of Lucy’s question at all.
‘Well, thing is,’ said Emily, ‘Mr Chambers has asked us to do a promo film for the firm, like. Only we’re a bit short of ideas, if you know what I mean.’
Tracey felt like losing her temper but controlled herself.
‘Couldn’t this wait till Monday?’
‘Well, I suppose so,’ said Lucy. ‘But Mr Chambers wants the promo film, like, done on location, innit? So we thought of maybe starting off the shot in the mall.’
Tracey continued to control her rising irritation with some difficulty.
‘Who’s the client?’ she asked. ‘And what’s the brief?’
‘Well, that’s the thing,’ said Emily. ‘The client is the local women’s prison. And the brief is showing a girl’s progress from arrest to incarceration and what’s she likely to find once she’s inside the joint.’
‘I see,’ said Tracey. ‘But why can’t it wait till Monday?’
‘Well, I mean it COULD,’ said Lucy. ‘But just as we was leaving work yesterday John come up to us and suggested it might be a good idea to shoot the first part of the promo in the mall on Saturday, like.’
‘Right,’ said Tracey. ‘He didn’t mention it to me yesterday.
‘No, it was just sort of a last minute thing,’ Emily said. ‘One of them brilliant ideas that just popped into his head.’
Tracey cursed inwardly as she realised her Saturday was going to be ruined by her employer.
‘Well, where are the cameras and microphones? Or even the camcorder?’ she asked.
‘Oh, John’s bringing all that stuff along,’ said Lucy. ‘Soon as you give us the OK I’ll call him on me moby.’
Tracey reluctantly prepared herself for a spoilt Saturday.
‘OK, call him and tell him it’s all systems go.’
So Lucy phoned John and he arrived five minutes later.
Smiling at the three girls, he produced a camcorder.
‘Good of you to help us out, Tracey,’ he said. ‘This is a big contract for us. The prison service has said if this pilot works they’ll franchise us nationwide for a women’s prison promotional ad.’
‘Great,’ said Tracey, pretending to give a damn. ‘So what happens next?’
‘Well, we shoot the action here to begin with and then follow it through right up to the early stages of incarceration,’ John told her.
‘And what sort of –action – are we talking about?’
‘A fake arrest, transport, processing, magistrate’s sentencing in prison and then a quick snapshot of prison life.’
‘But how are you going to do that?’
John looked at the three girls for a moment before speaking.
‘Well, we WERE going to use a model or actress to play the arrested girl but we couldn’t get anyone at such short notice. So what I was wondering is if you’d be willing to volunteer to do the woman in the promo film.’
Tracey stared at him in shock.
‘You mean – you want ME to be arrested, sentenced and sent to prison?’
John laughed.
‘Take it easy, Tracey. It’s only a promotional movie. You won’t REALLY be a prisoner. And it would be a big help to me. It’ll help your career with the firm enormously. And I’ll pay you double time as well. Please, Tracey, help me out here.’
She hesitated briefly and then nodded.
‘OK, John, I’ll do it. How do you want me to play it?’
‘Well, just act like if you really WERE a criminal. Play it in character. Don’t let on that it’s only a promo movie.’
‘OK,’ said Tracey. ‘What am I supposed to have done anyway?’
Lucy spoke up then.
‘What about shoplifting? We’re in a shopping mall, innit?’
‘That’s a good idea, Lucy,’ said John.
‘Yeah, that pair of Gucci shoes you was trying on earlier,’ said Emily. ‘You could just slip them into your bag and slip out of the store and then the bleeper goes and you get arrested.’
Tracey looked troubled at that suggestion.
‘But wouldn’t that mean I really HAD stolen something?
In which case I really WOULD be in trouble.’ John laughed when she said that.
‘No worries, Tracey. I’ll just go and find the store manager and get it sorted.’
He disappeared for a few minutes and then returned with the manager.
‘I’ve told him the score, Tracey, so you’ve got nothing to worry about. Let’s start rolling in – what, two minutes time?’
‘OK,’ said Tracey, nervous but reassured by the appearance of the manager.
At a nod from Lucy the action began. Tracey slipped the Gucci shoes into her bag and walked out of the store. The moment she did so the alarm sounded and a store security guard rushed after her. John had already started the camcorder to record the live action.
‘Just a minute, miss,’ said the guard. ‘Step back inside the store. You just triggered our alarm system and I need to check your bag.’
Tracey went back into the store reluctantly and waited for developments.
‘Come into our security office at the back of the store,’ the guard ordered.
Tracey did as she was told, followed all the way into the room by John, Lucy and Emily. She wondered if the guard knew it was only a promo film. Probably, she thought, because he hadn’t objected to the other three tagging along with a camcorder rolling.
‘Right,’ he said, ‘open up your bag.’ Reluctantly Tracey opened it for him.
‘Empty everything out on to the table.’
Tracey emptied the contents of her bag on to the table.
‘Hm,’ said the guard, picking up the Gucci shoes. ‘You got a receipt for these?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ said Tracey. ‘I must have put the shoes in my bag by mistake.’
‘The times I’ve heard that!’ he said angrily. ‘OK, let’s go through the rest of your stuff. Blimey, you like this shop, don’t you? Loads of gear there from our store. And no receipts for any of them, I reckon.’
‘No, I’m afraid not,’ said Tracey, looking suitably shamefaced. ‘But all the rest of the stuff’s OK. I bought it before so of course any receipts are at home.’
‘A likely story!’ said the guard. ‘I reckon you’re a professional shoplifter myself. And this time you’ve been caught red handed!’
Tracey was about to reply when she froze in astonishment instead, her mouth gaping wide in horror and disbelief.
‘Yes, you’re right,’ said Lucy. ‘I saw her putting some of that stuff in her bag myself.’
‘So did I,’ Emily chipped in. ‘She’s quite the little thief, isn’t she?’
Tracey was about to protest when she saw John, still holding the camcorder, give her a warning shake of the head so she checked the angry retort on her lips.
‘Well, that settles it,’ said the guard. ‘We’ve got two witnesses saying they SAW you stealing from this store. I’m going to have to call the police.’
‘Do we really have to get them involved?’ asked Tracey.
She was still in character and assumed the whole thing was just a big act on everyone’s part so she played along.
‘We certainly do,’ said the guard. ‘We ALWAYS
prosecute shoplifters in this store.’
Tracey was so focused on the guard and camera that she hadn’t noticed Lucy and Emily whispering to each other. Suddenly Emily spoke up.
‘That necklace she’s got on – that comes from your store too. And I saw her nick it and put it round her neck bold as brass.’
Again Tracey said nothing because she thought it was all part of the promo film.
‘Well, take it off and put it on the table,’ said the guard.
Reluctantly Tracey took off her necklace and laid it on the table with the rest of her stuff.
‘I reckon you ought to search her as well as her bag,’ said Lucy.
‘What, you mean you think she might be hiding stuff in her clothes?’ asked the guard.
‘Yes, I’m sure I saw her slip a couple of things inside,’ said Emily. ‘Can’t take any chances with thieves, can we?’
The guard looked at Tracey with obvious lust in his eyes but was also clearly nervous.
‘I’m not really supposed to do that with girls,’ he said.
‘But our lady security guard is away on holiday so I don’t really know what I can do about it. Hang on a minute, I’ll give the manager a bell.’
He spoke quickly to the manager and then turned to Tracey.
‘OK, girl, the manager’s coming on down to sort things out. He’ll know what’s the best thing to do.’
Tracey was angry now as well as nervous but John smiled at her and raised a finger to his lips. She understood that this was just part of the act for the promo film and that she had to keep quiet and not cause any trouble.
The manager appeared quickly and looked at Tracey before looking at the rest of the party.
‘Well, it’s unfortunate that we don’t have our female security guard on duty but of course we could improvise, I suppose. What about you two girls? Would you be willing to
stand in for our normal lady guard?’
Lucy and Emily grinned and immediately agreed to his suggestion. Tracey fumed but there was nothing she could do about it. After all, if she flared up now it would mean reshooting a lot of the promo film.
‘OK, ladies, search her,’ said the manager.
So first Lucy and then Emily frisked her, patting her down with their hands in a deliberately intimate and even obscene way. Tracey was furious but she controlled her temper. Then the two girls finished and looked quickly at the manager.
‘I think we need to do a full strip search,’ said Lucy. ‘Get
her to take everything off so we can do a thorough examination.’
Tracey nearly blew it then, opening her mouth and beginning to move towards her two tormentors before a warning finger to the lips from John silenced her again.
The girls thoroughly enjoyed making their boss at work strip naked. They forced her to do it in as slow and humiliating a way as possible. Eventually she was down to her bra and knickers and the rest of her clothes lay on the table with the contents of her bag.
Lucy approached Tracey and groped and fondled her boobs and was just about to lose self-control and hit the girl when she saw her ‘fish’ a piece of jewellery out of her bra.
‘But,..’ Tracey protested..
‘No buts,’ said the manager. ‘Try her knickers next.’
Emily advanced upon Tracey then and ‘produced’ another couple of items of jewellery after an even more invasive search of her cunt and arse. Tracey flushed with anger and shame but she knew that she could do nothing about it.
‘Might as well go the whole hog,’ said Lucy. ‘Take your bra and knickers off!’
Tracey glared at her angrily. She was just about to answer when John caught her eye and gave another shake of the head. Reluctantly, she took them off and they joined her other clothes and the rest of her stuff on the table.
Lucy and Emily then made an insulting pretence of ‘searching’ her naked body while John’s camcorder rolled relentlessly and the manager and guard looked on appreciatively.
‘There’s a small police station in the precinct,’ said the manager. ‘We’ll take her there. What’s her name, anyway? Oh yes,’ he said, picking up her drivers’ license, ‘Tracey Smith. Well, Tracey, you’re going to be arrested and transferred to the Westfield Prison for Women where you’ll be brought before the prison’s resident magistrate for trial and sentencing.’
He turned to the security guard.
‘Bert, handcuff our little thief with her wrists behind her back. And put the shackles on her legs as well so she can’t make a run for it.’
Tracey protested at that.
‘Can’t I at least put my clothes back on first?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ said the manager. ‘I recognise all of them as coming from our store so you’ve obviously stolen them as well. Now just be quiet and we’ll take you to the police station.’
‘But...’
The manager turned to the guard again.
‘Bert, this thief is annoying me with her mouthiness. Gag her!’
Tracey opened her mouth to protest and Bert swiftly popped a ball gag inside it. Now all she could do was make futile moaning sounds from behind her gag!
They frog-marched the naked, restrained and gagged
Tracey right through the busiest parts of the mall, John’s camcorder recording every second of her ordeal. By the time she’d crossed the car park and been deposited in the police station she must have been visible in all her naked glory to around six hundred people!
Once they arrived at the police station the still gagged Tracey was forced to stand there waiting while the manager filed charges of theft against her. The desk sergeant entered the details in his computer and then called for the prison transfer van to take Tracey to Westfield Prison for Women. The manager, John, Lucy and Emily all accompanied Tracey on her journey once the van arrived and she found herself in the prison reception area.
‘OK,’ said the prison guard, ‘we’ll book her in and hold her on remand. You’re in luck, girl,’ he smiled at Tracey, ‘the magistrate is about to come back on duty so we can get your case dealt with really quick.’
Tracey was hopping mad by now but the gag in her mouth stopped her being able to say anything. She could only hope that after she’d seen the magistrate her ordeal would finally be over. In a few minutes a man in his middle fifties arrived and stared at her with obvious interest.
‘Who’s the new bitch?’ he asked.
‘Tracey Smith, shoplifter,’ said the guard.
‘Well, let’s set up the courtroom in here, shall we?’
He sat down behind a table and then called on the ‘prosecution witnesses’ to testify. The manager, Lucy and
Emily all gave their ‘account’ of how Tracey had stolen lots of goods from the store and the magistrate nodded when they’d finished.
‘OK, take the prisoner’s gag out,’ he ordered.
Tracey was relieved to be able to speak at last though at first she just gasped rather than spoke.
‘Right, you’ve heard the evidence against you,’ he said.
‘What do you have to say for yourself?’
Tracey was about to deny all charges when John gave a vigorous shake of his head.
‘It was a mistake, sir,’ she said. ‘I put the shoes in my bag by mistake.’
‘And what about the jewellery that was found inside your bra and knickers? How do you account for that? Did they just fly in there of their own accord?’
Tracey hesitated, wanting to tell the truth but another finger to his lips from John made her change her mind.
‘I don’t know, sir,’ she said lamely. ‘Perhaps they might have fallen in by accident.’
God, that sounds so STUPID, thought Tracey angrily! The magistrate gave her a cold glance and was clearly not at all impressed with her answer.
‘We have had a serious problem with shoplifting in Westfield recently,’ he declared. ‘You are clearly a serial thief and your lack of remorse at your actions leaves me with no alternative but to sentence you to three months in prison.’
‘Three months?’ Tracey gasped. ‘But I didn’t DO anything! I’m innocent! Look, John, Lucy, Emily, this has gone far enough. Tell him the truth!’
The magistrate turned to John and the two girls.
‘Have you any idea what she is talking about?’ he asked quietly.
‘None at all,’ said John, smiling blandly. ‘I never saw her before in my life.’
‘Me neither,’ said Lucy.
‘Nor me,’ Emily added quickly.
‘No!’ yelled Tracey. ‘This is a set-up! We’re making a promotional film and...’
The magistrate turned to the prison guard in attendance.
‘Gag this bitch!’ he ordered.
As soon as Tracey was securely gagged once more he turned to her and addressed her in the most severe tones.
‘Tracey Smith, you have already been sentenced to three months in prison for theft. In view of your disgraceful outburst I am now giving you an additional three months for contempt of court. You will NOT be eligible for parole during your sentence and the three sentences will NOT be concurrent but served consecutively. I have also decided to make your six month sentence include an additional component of hard labour. Six months hard labour, Smith; that’s what you’ll serve in here!’
Behind her gag Tracey could only weep. Lucy and Emily high-fived each other and John gave them a huge grin.
The three of them approached the helpless prisoner and whispered to her softly.
‘See you in six months’ time, Tracey,’ said John.
‘Enjoy your holiday!’ Lucy laughed cruelly.
‘Visiting hours are once a week so we’ll come and look in on you!’ said Emily, giggling.
Poor Tracey could only stare in horror as she realised how she’d been set up hook line and sinker and fallen for the scam!
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I would have LOVED to have been the Officer......
Tony V. :police:
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I was asked by a member for some back story about Tracey.
Here it is.
Tracey Smith back story:
For those who aren't familiar with the 'Tracey' stories, Tracey Smith is a character invented by the English writer Katie Smith. In the first ever Tracey story, 'Tracey's Prison Visit,' Tracey was (confusingly) called Tracey Jones. In my sequel to Katie's story I came up with a plausible explanation for the confusion in names - a short and unhappy marriage to a Mr Jones after which Tracey reverted to her maiden name of Smith.
Tracey is an accident-prone type of person - somewhere between the Yiddish expressions 'schlemiel' and 'schlimazl.' Over the course of the fifteen years or so that Katie has written about her, Tracey has spent a considerable amount of time naked, strip-searched, imprisoned unjustly, raped, abused, tortured, sold into slavery, a patient in a mental hospital and even a meat girl.
In Katie's universe female slavery is legal and common, committing females to asylums on the flimsiest of pretexts is legal and common, police officers routinely arrest, strip and abuse - sexually and physically - attractive females. Even the Dolcett meat girl fantasies are legal.
Tracey suffers from a combination of personality defects that make her vulnerable to abuse. She is short, blonde, tubby and large-breasted. She is also arrogant - which makes her unpopular; naively trusting - which makes her vulnerable; and easily cowed by or persuaded into a disastrous course of action by authority figures - which they take full advantage of to hurt, humiliate and abuse her.
She has had a variety of jobs over the years ranging from teacher, office worker, sales rep, police officer, air hostess, tour guide and charity worker among others.
A cast of fairly regular characters act as nemeses for her - Mr Chambers, John Chambers, Emily, Lucy and (less often) Stacey and (in only one story plus my sequel to it) Lisa Shelby (I'm planning on writing a sequel to that one with Lisa featuring again as one of Tracey's enemies.) Other tormentors are more occassional.
Over the years I and a lot of other writers have been inspired by Katie's creation to write our own 'Tracey' stories. Every one of us puts our own spin on the character I suppose and I think I'm one of the few tribute writers - I can only think of two other authors and in both cases only once - who ever lets Tracey 'win' occasionally.
But essentially she's a born victim for rape, physical abuse, humiliation and various forms of slavery or incarceration.
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Tracey the milk cow:
1)
Tracey Smith knew that there had been many changes in her young life, almost all of them to the disadvantage of females. She'd spent the last five years of her life in a situation where females could be sold into slavery, confined to asylums for no good reason and even sold and eaten as meat. Somehow she'd managed to steer clear of all these dangers.
Now, inspired by the popularity of 'meat girls,' the government had come up with yet another plan to use women in a degrading way. Under the new legislation passed by Parliament known as the Milk Cows Act, it was possible - if 'an authorised person' gave their consent - for a girl to be reclassified as a 'milk cow' rather than a human female. Before long the whole nature of dairy farming had changed and girls found themselves being hooked up to milking machines or milked manually and the milk from their breasts being sold on. Sometimes it was sold simply as milk, sometimes the milk was turned into butter or cheese, sometimes it was turned into yoghurt and sometimes it became cream or ice cream. The girls of course had no say at all in the matter and only the consent of the 'authorised person' was required to consign them to their new lowly status.
At twenty-three years old Tracey was well aware that she was in the type of age group that might be vulnerable to becoming turned into a 'milk cow.' In the six years since the new legislation had been passed nearly all the new 'cows' were females aged between the ages of 16 and 35. The law - probably deliberately - left the status of 'an authorised person' vague but to judge from the girls who had so far been turned into 'milk cows' almost of them seemed to have been sold by their parents, husbands or other relatives. A few single women with no family - mainly illegal immigrants - had also been forced to become 'milk cows' through a court order.
Girls were also becoming increasingly anxious to please their boyfriends and employers. Because it wasn't quite clear who an 'authorised person' was they feared that they might decided to turn them into cows and that would be the end of normal life. Tracey was certainly nervous about the possibility that it might happen to her. She hadn't got a boyfriend at the moment but she didn't exactly get on well with her sister or brother and her parents weren't exactly her biggest fans either.
And she'd recently started a new job and she didn't get on well with her boss either so all in all Tracey was more hopeful than confident about her chances of remaining a human girl rather than being turned into a milk cow.
On the other hand Tracey had to admit that she found the idea quite intriguing and even erotic. She looked up items on the internet and saw pictures, read stories and even a couple of DVDs about girls who'd been literally turned into milk cows.
She was a very junior teacher at Eastfield Comprehensive and she more or less got lumbered with all the jobs that no one else wanted to do. So she wasn't altogether surprised when one morning she was called in to the head's office and told that she'd be taking a class of sixth formers out to a new local dairy.
In spite of her sudden nervousness Tracey also felt herself becoming strangely aroused. She couldn't help herself and she had to ask the head the question.
'Excuse me, sir, but if you don't mind me asking, is this a - well, traditional dairy? Or is it one of the - new dairies with the - well, milk cows that used to be - human girls?'
The head laughed when she asked him that.
'Oh, it's one of the new ones with the new breed of milk cows,' he told her. 'I'm sure the pupils will enjoy visiting a place like that and who knows, it might even be how some of the girls end up?'
Tracey said nothing but she felt flustered, excited, embarrassed and nervous all at once. Tomorrow she'd get the chance to see one of her own darkest fantasies in action and in spite of her fear she could hardly wait.
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2)
In the morning Tracey led a group of a dozen sixth-formers into the school bus. The driver started up the bus and then they drove for about half an hour till they saw a sign saying 'Chambers Cows.'
'This is it,' Tracey told her pupils, trying to control the suppressed excitement and nervousness she felt at the prospect of finally fulfilling her fantasy and seeing the new breed of human dairy cows in action.
The class stepped off the bus and were greeted at the factory gates by the owner.
'Hi there,' said Tracey. 'I'm Tracey Smith, teacher from Eastfield Comprehensive, bringing a party of sixth-formers to look at your - dairy.'
'Mr Chambers,' said the owner. 'I'll show you round. I take it you'll want to see every aspect of the process from arrival to retail?'
'Yes please,' said Tracey.
'Right,' Mr Chambers smiled. 'We'll start off in the shop and then I'll take you to the reception area. That's where we deal with the administrative side of things before a new cow is transferred to the milking stables.'
In the large shops Tracey and the kids saw milk, cheese, yoghurt, cream and ice cream all on sale. The kids looked slightly bored at this point and it was up to Tracey to try to inject some enthusiasm into them. She asked Mr Chambers the obvious question.
'Are all these... dairy products... well, are they all - made out of... well, human milk?'
Mr Chambers looked at Tracey and laughed.
'Well, I suppose you could say that. But of course once the girls become cows they're no longer human. Their legal status is completely changed from female human to milk cow.'
The kids laughed when he said that, especially the boys.
'So once they come here they become animals in the eyes of the law?' a 16-year old boy asked eagerly.
'Yes, that's right. They're just animals. All trace of their former status as humans is literally stripped away from them.'
'And how do the girls become cows?'
'Well, basically any authorised person can give their consent for a girl to be reclassified as a cow?'
'And the girl has no say in the matter?'
'None at all. Her wishes are completely irrelevant. As long as an authorised person gives their consent the girl becomes a cow from that moment onwards.'
'Fucking amazing! That's so cool! And who is an authorised person?'
'The law seems to leave that rather vague,' Mr Chambers smiled.
'So if I wanted to make a girl a cow - how would I do that?'
'I'm not a lawyer,' Mr Chambers told him. 'I'm just a dairy farmer. You're probably better off talking to my lawyer about that side of things. We can meet him at the end of our tour if you like and he can explain all the legal niceties and all the various formalities that have to be gone through. But the most important aspect of the law is that it's not up to the girl whether or not she becomes a cow. It's up to the authorised person to decide on that.'
'Awesome! I'll definitely have a word with the lawyer when we meet him.'
Tracey shivered slightly as she could see the boys in particular were getting excited at the prospect of turning young girls into dairy animals. What disturbed her even more was that she felt herself becoming slightly aroused at the idea of being turned from a human female into a dairy farm cow.
Fortunately for Tracey her reveries were interrupted as Mr Chambers continued.
'Right, take a look around the shop and then I'll take you to the reception area where cows are processed.'
The pupils looked at the products on sale and Tracey heard a couple of boys laughing as they whispered to each other.
'Just think, all this stuff comes out of a girl's tits!'
'Yeah, it's fucking amazing. One minute she's a human being in the eyes of the law and the next she's just a dumb cow!'
One of the boys then turned to Mr Chambers and asked a direct question.
'How often do the cows get milked?'
'Twice a day, morning and night.'
'Do they - well, have to get pregnant or have had babies to produce milk?'
'No, that's obviously one way in which it can happen. But actually if you manipulate the cow's udders properly she'll be able to produce milk even if she's still a virgin. And of course we also give them hormonal treatment as well both to accelerate the process and to make the cow's udders bigger and produce more milk.'
'And this can go on how long?'
'Indefinitely, basically. As long as the cow is regularly milked she'll go on producing. And of course if her output of milk drops then we give her more hormonal treatment to up it to the required level.'
'And can the cows be fucked? Is there any objection to that?'
'No, none at all,' Mr Chambers smiled. 'In fact it happens regularly. I've fucked every one of the cows in my dairy and all the others have been fucked either by my sons or by the staff who work here.'
'Fucking amazing! And so you can just fuck any one of the cows and there's nothing illegal about it?'
'Nothing at all illegal. It's not as if they're human beings any more in the eyes of the law - just cows. Basically they're here to be milked and bred so we do like to get them pregnant as often as possible. Anyway, it's fun; just think, guys. You don't have to buy a girl flowers or a meal or anything like that. Just get her classified as a cow and you can fuck her when you want. And you get to make loads of money out of her tits - that are now in the eyes of the law reclassified as udders - through the milk and cheese and cream and yoghurt and ice cream you sell on. Just think - a cow's whole day is nothing more than being milked, fucked, given hormonal treatment, fucked and milked. It's a great life nowadays being a dairy farmer!'
But not such a great one being a cow, thought Tracey angrily. She was rapidly going off her fantasy about being a milk cow and the sooner she got out of this place the happier she'd be!
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3)
Tracey was still fuming when Mr Chambers told them it was time to take them to the administrative area where they would see the new 'cows' being processed. After that, he told them, he'd take them to 'the stables' so that they could 'see the cows doing their duty.' With increasing reluctance she followed him and was beginning to dread what she would see. She was so angry and so focused on getting out of here that she didn't notice that two of the boys and two of the girls in the party were whispering to one another. Tracey even didn't notice one of the girls sending a text on her mobile phone which pretty soon got an answering text back.
'I'll begin by taking you to the reception area where we deal with the administrative side of things before a new cow is transferred to the milking stables.'
The administrative area contained a desk, weighing scales, a computer and printer and not much else. There were three people in there and as Mr Chambers entered with the party they showed interest as they saw Tracey and the other six girls.
'Fresh milk?' one of the two men in the office asked.
'Afraid not. Just a school party and their teacher. I'm showing them round our dairy.'
He turned to the pupils and told them what happened in the 'farm.'
'Essentially this is where we enter a cow's details on our database before transferring her to the stables where the process of turning her into a cow begins. The cow is stripped naked, weighed and measured, her personal details entered into the farm computer and then she receives her new identity as a cow. After that she's led off to the stables to begin her training.'
'Can you show us how it works?' one of the boys asked eagerly. 'Have you got any cows due to arrive today?'
'I'm afraid not,' Mr Chambers said. 'I can show you a film of the processing part of things if you like.'
The boys in the school party looked extremely disappointed.
'Couldn't you do - a dummy demonstration for us? Get one of the girls here to act as a new cow? Obviously it wouldn't be the real thing but it would let us get a real insight into how it works.'
Mr Chambers smiled at the boy who'd asked that question.
'I don't think any of the girls with you would be happy to volunteer for even a dummy demonstration. Sorry, I'm afraid a film of the process is the best I can do.'
To his surprise his mobile rang suddenly. It was a number he didn't recognise and a voice he didn't know either.
'Chambers Dairy?' the voice on the other end asked.
'Yes, that's us.'
'Can we talk privately?'
Mr Chambers looked around at the small group and then turned to the three office staff.
'You can carry on here while I take this call, can't you?'
He disappeared and left Tracey and the pupils in charge of the office staff.
'What is it?' he asked.
'This is the headmaster of Eastfield Comprehensive. I've just had a phone call from the mother of one of the pupils in your group. Apparently she's also the sister of the teacher. She's heard about the visit to your dairy and she wants Tracey to volunteer to be a dummy cow for the purposes of testing. She's already given me her electronic signature granting you full permission to register her as a cow though of course only for demonstration purposes. As her sister I suppose she qualifies as an authorised person.'
'Yes, I suppose so,' Mr Chambers answered. 'Well, I'll go and get Tracey processed then.'
With that single phone call Tracey's fate was sealed - although at the time not only Tracey but even Mr Chambers himself didn't know that!
-
Tracey's class behind bars:
1)
21 year old Tracey Smith was in her final year at university reading for a degree in women's studies. She had done well on her course and got high marks but when her course tutor Emily Brown suggested that she do her dissertation on the subject of crime and punishment for women she became quite excited at the prospect.
Tracey agreed at once and was preparing to go and research the subject when Emily surprised her.
'Why not write your dissertation from real life?'
Tracey was baffled.
'What, like visit a women's prison or something?'
'No, not at all. Get yourself admitted as an inmate and then you'll be able to write about it from personal experience. That will really give a hard edge to your dissertation.'
Tracey was intrigued by the idea but also slightly nervous.
'How exactly would it work?' she asked.
Emily smiled at her young student.
'There are three different scenarios we could use. One is you spend 24 hours as a remand prisoner; that would give you a flavour of the system but not perhaps much more. Or you could spend a week in prison for a fictitious crime that would be entered on a dummy database. Or you could be arrested, tried and sentenced and spend two weeks in prison for a fictitious crime.'
'I see,' said Tracey doubtfully. 'But would I be safe?'
'I have a friend who's a police officer, another one who's a prison guard and a third one who's a magistrate. All of them would know the true state of affairs and all of them have agreed to play along with the scenario of your mock arrest, trial and custody. You'll be perfectly safe; I'll make sure of it.'
'Couldn't I research a bit about it first?'
'No need,' Emily told her. 'Real life experience is far more compelling.'
'OK, how soon would you want me to start?'
'Today?'
Tracey stared at her in surprise.
'Oh. I didn't think it would be that soon.'
'Well, we've got the holidays starting tomorrow and you won't be back at uni for three weeks. So it's the ideal time for you to be incarcerated.'
'I suppose so,' said Tracey reluctantly. 'So what happens next?'
'I'll make a phone call and start the process,' Emily told her. 'I recommend the two week option as giving you the widest range of experience.'
'OK.'
So Emily made a quick phone call and then said goodbye to her student.
'You'll be arrested when you leave the university campus,' she told her. 'Don't let me down, Tracey.'
-
2)
Tracey had fantasised about being an inmate in a harsh women's prison for some time. She knew that following the totally unexpected victory of the Justice Party at the British General Election a lot of tough new anti-crime laws had been passed by Parliament and women's prisons were now much stricter. Part of her was scared at the prospect of being a temporary inmate but another side of her was quite excited.
As she left the university and turned on to the main street and prepared to walk towards the bus stop to go to her digs she saw a police car parked by the side of the room. A policewoman in uniform leapt out of the car with a male colleague and approached her.
Tracey stood there frozen for a moment even though she knew it was all part of the 'experience project' that Emily had arranged and one of the officers was in on the plot.
'You're under arrest,' the policewoman said.
Tracey decided she ought to make it look more realistic by acting as if she didn't know about the arrangement.
'On what charge?' she replied.
At that point things started to go a bit pear-shaped for her. The woman turned to her male colleague and spoke quickly.
'She's resisting arrest,' she said. 'We'll have to subdue her.'
Tracey gasped in surprise. She hadn't expected that at all.
'I'm not...' she started to say when her words were interrupted by a baton crashing heavily into her stomach.
Tracey doubled up in pain and the woman then hit her large breasts with the baton. She nearly collapsed with the pain and the male officer went behind her and quickly forced her wrists behind her back. Tracey then felt the sensation and sound of handcuffs being fastened on her wrists.
'You didn't have to hit me,' she gasped through the pain that still ran through her. 'And I've got a right to know why I'm being arrested.'
'Gag her,' said the policewoman. 'And put shackles on her legs too.'
He pinched Tracey's nose to force her to breathe through her mouth and then forced a penis gag inside her mouth, buckling it tightly behind her neck. Then he fastened metal shackles around her ankles.
'Much better!' said the policewoman. 'Now we don't have to listen to any more crap from this gobby fucking bitch!'
Tracey was pushed inside the car and driven off to the police station. Her planned dissertation was about to be based on a very harsh reality!
-
3)
Inside the police station Tracey found herself in the processing area and she stood there while the policewoman entered the details of her 'charges.'
'Right,' she said, removing Tracey's gag and handcuffs. 'What's your name?'
'Tracey smith.'
'Age?'
'21.'
'Occupation?'
'Student.'
'OK, do you understand that you've been arrested?'
'Yes.'
'You're charged with suspicion of prostitution, suspicion of drug dealing and resisting arrest. Do you want to save us all time and enter a plea of guilty?'
'No.'
'So you're pleading not guilty to all the charges?'
'Yes, I am.'
'OK, in that case you'll be held as a remand prisoner until Monday morning when the magistrate will try your case. Before that we need to process you.'
Tracey had mug shots taken, was fingerprinted and then the policewoman spoke to her.
'I'm going to frisk you now. It's standard procedure so don't get lippy with me.'
'OK,' said Tracey.
Part of her was nervous and felt humiliated at the prospect but another part of her found the idea exciting. The woman officer patted Tracey down and took particular care to investigate her tits, cunt and arse. Her skirt and blouse were both lifted up and her bra was also frisked.
'OK, on a quick search it looks as if she's clean,' the policewoman said. 'Do you want to frisk her too just in case I've missed anything?'
Tracey was horrified but excited as she saw the woman turn to her male colleague when she said those words.
'I didn't think...'
'No, you didn't,' the woman said sternly. 'Both male and female officers can now conduct a search if they feel there's a good reason to suspect criminal activity or the presence of contraband. So are you going to co-operate now or do you want us to do this the hard way?'
'No, I'll do it,' said Tracey reluctantly.
'Right, stand against the wall with your legs spread wide apart and your arms high up against the wall.'
Tracey did as she was told and the male cop made an even more invasive 'search' of her than the woman had.
'Didn't find anything,' he said. 'Maybe we should give her a strip search.'
'Yes, good idea,' said the lady cop. 'OK, start stripping!'
Tracey blushed at the prospect.
'What, here and now, you mean? And - in front of - him?'
'Yes to both questions. Unless of course you need help getting undressed?'
'No, I'll do it,' she answered.
Tracey was beginning to panic at the thought of what might happen to her next but she forced herself to obey the order.
'Shoes off first,' the woman commanded.
Tracey removed her shoes.
'Now your tights.'
Tracey removed her tights.
'Now that skirt.'
Tracey took off her skirt, blushing.
'Now the blouse.'
Even more reluctantly she removed her blouse.
'OK, spread your legs.'
Tracey felt deeply embarrassed as she spread her legs wide, now wearing only her bra and knickers.
'Now lose the bra.'
Tracey blushed bright scarlet but she did as she was told.
'OK, now take off your knickers.'
Tracey felt deeply humiliated as she obeyed this final command.
'Turn around and I'll search you again.'
Tracey faced front this time and had to submit to the policewoman 'searching' her tits, her cunt and arse. With a grin on her face she 'produced' a bag of white powder from both her cunt and arse.
'Well, well, looks like we found those drugs you were hiding, Smith,' she laughed. 'OK, hands behind your back.'
Tracey did as she was told and felt the handcuffs snapping around her wrists once more.
'OK, let's go through your handbag and see if we can find any more goodies,' said the lady cop.
Tracey stood there, naked and now handcuffed again as the policewoman went through her bag.
'Well, let's see,' she laughed. 'Another bag of white powder, a pair of nail scissors, a nail file and a can of hairspray. That means we can add an extra count of drug possession with intent to supply plus being caught in possession of offensive weapons - probably with intent to use them.'
'What, nail scissors, a nail file and hairspray are offensive weapons?' Tracey retorted.
'In the eyes of the law almost anything can be an offensive weapon now,' she grinned. 'So don't try and come the innocent because we've got you bang to rights.'
The woman bagged up all Tracey's stuff into a series of 'evidence bags' before continuing her interrogation of her.
'OK, we're booking you on the extra charges,' she told her. 'Now I see you're wearing quite a bit of jewellery so all that has to go too. I'll start with your ear-rings.'
Tracey was wearing chunky ear-rings that sparkled and were quite large and heavy. The woman made no attempt to remove them gently but simply yanked them off hard.
'Ow!' said Tracey. 'You didn't have to do that!'
'I decide what I have to do, Smith. Shut up and let me get on with my job.'
She removed a watch from Tracey's left wrist and a shiny fake gold bracelet from her right one. Then she gazed at Tracey's neck and pulled off a fake gold necklace that dangled around her neck, She pulled so hard that the chain on it broke.
'Any more jewellery on you, Smith?' she asked coldly.
'There's a silver ankle bracelet on my right ankle,' Tracey answered meekly.
'Good. I'll remove that too.'
Once everything had been taken away from Tracey the woman smiled at her again.
'OK, that seems to be everything. Put the shackles on her ankles.'
The male police officer fastened them on Tracey's ankles.
'Now the neck collar around her neck.'
Once again the male cop secured it around Tracey's neck.
'Now let's gag the bitch until it's time for her to be transferred to prison for the weekend.'
A ball gag was thrust into Tracey's unwilling mouth and buckled behind her head. Now she was silent as well as totally restrained.
'Right, take her to a cell till the transport van arrives. We're taking you off to Eastfield Maximum Security Prison so you'll be in one of the toughest prisons in the country. Enjoy your weekend!'
Tracey began to panic as she wondered if just maybe this particular dissertation for her university degree might just be about to go horribly wrong for her!
-
4)
Tracey lay in her police cell waiting for the arrival of the prison van to take her off to jail. She knew that she had to be patient and in any case Emily had arranged everything. It wasn't like she'd be a real prisoner; only playing a role for a short time.
The door to her cell opened and she was ushered out into the reception area of the police station.
'OK, Smith, I'll take you out to the car park at the back,' said the lady cop. 'The van is waiting to take you off to your new home at Eastfield Prison.'
Tracey was led out, still naked, handcuffed, shackled and gagged to the waiting prison van.
'Hi Jo,' said the driver to the policewoman. 'How many you got for me tonight?'
'Just the one this time, Tom,' she grinned. 'Name's Tracey Smith. Here's the paperwork on her.'
'OK,' he said, taking a look. 'Hm, quite an impressive rap sheet; three counts of drug possession with probable intent to supply, suspicion of prostitution, resisting arrest and being in possession of offensive weapons. I'll have to keep an eye on this one.'
He looked quickly at the diminutive Tracey.
'Well, sometimes appearances can be deceptive,' he grinned. 'I'd better put her in our strictest possible restraints while I'm transporting her.'
He proceeded to look at Tracey's handcuffs and then produced a set of his own.
'Take yours off, please, Jo; they're not strict enough restraint.'
Tracey fumed silently as the policewoman removed her handcuffs. The blessed sensation of freedom did not last long as the driver of the prison van swiftly replaced them. Once more Tracey found her wrists handcuffed behind her back but this time they were double locked and a further locking chain secured the links between the chain in the small of her back. She felt utterly helpless as well as mortified but also, strangely, slightly aroused by the experience.
He checked her ankles quickly and nodded his approval.
'The shackles are fine. Let's take a look at her gag.'
Quickly he glanced at it and then tightened it a notch or two before further securing it with a padlock. Now poor Tracey could hardly make mumbled and incoherent noises.
'Let's give her the full head restraint too,' he smiled.
Tracey found herself staring in horror at a black rubber hood which was fastened over her head and completely covered her face. He buckled it tightly around her throat which reinforced the sensory deprivation effect of the ball-gag.
'Now to complete the full effect a few extra touches,' he said.
Tracey gasped as he forced her legs wide apart and pushed a wooden bar between them. It was secured with leather straps at her knees and made it practically impossible for her to move.
'Now let's fit her with a crotch rope,' he grinned.
Tracey winced as she felt the invader cinched tightly between her legs and cutting painfully into her cunt and arse. The rope was secured to the links in her handcuffs and it made her feel very uncomfortable but also strangely aroused.
'OK, I'm done here,' he said. 'See you, Jo.'
'Bye, Tom,' said the policewoman.
Tracey was pushed into the van and driven away to her fate.
-
5)
Tracey found herself plonked on a metal seat, still naked, handcuffed, shackled, gagged and now hooded and with a crotch rope biting into her as well. She heard the driver talking to another man who she assumed was a prison guard.
'OK, that's thirteen women and fifteen men we've got to deliver. Five of the men are at the open prison and eight of the women are at the open prison for women. The rest are going to the maximum security ones. We'll drop off the women last as usual.'
Tracey groaned inwardly at the thought that her journey would be longer than that of the male prisoners. She could see nothing but if she had she would have been horrified. All the women in the van were naked and restrained though only three as severely as she was. The men were wearing clothes and were handcuffed in front of their bodies and shackled on their legs but were not gagged and not restrained anywhere near as severely as the women prisoners.
The men began making comments about the naked women and to her horror Tracey felt one of them beginning to fondle her breasts and pussy. She was not only helpless to resist but even to open her mouth and protest. The man who was groping her took his time and to her utter mortification he succeeded in making Tracey have an orgasm in the van.
'Should be grateful to me, bitch,' he laughed. 'I gave you pleasure and the proof is in your leaking cunt!'
Tracey would have cried if the hood hadn't made that almost impossible. She'd been utterly violated and the only good news was that at the first stop her tormentor and four of the other men were taken off the van and checked into the open prison. The guard grinned at Tracey's condition even though she couldn't see his reaction. He looked at the eight men who remained on the van and then addressed the prisoners.
'Our next stop is the open prison for women. After that it's the max security prison for men and finally the maximum security one for women. Eight of you bitches will be arriving at your new home in the next fifteen minutes. Then in about a half hour the men will be dropped off. Then the five remaining bitches will be checked into the maximum security prison for women. So all in all we've got another hour to go before all of you get unloaded.'
Tracey groaned mentally at the prospect. And there were still eight men on the van who might try and repeat the same performance the one who'd been let out had subjected her to!
As the van moved off again another male prisoner approached her.
'I wish I could fuck you, big tits, but I can't with my shackles on. Still, I'll give you a bit of fun instead.'
To Tracey's horror he began sucking her breasts and even biting on her nipples. In spite of herself she became aroused and when he used his fingers on her clit she had her second orgasm of the journey.
'Filthy fucking whore!' he laughed. 'You young girls is all the same - sluts the lot of you!'
Tracey was relieved when at last the van dropped off the men at their prison. She and the other four women scheduled to be taken to Eastfield maximum security prison for women were the only prisoners left on the van.
'OK, bitches, hope you've enjoyed your journey!' the guard laughed as he opened the door. 'Well, time to drive you off to your new luxury accommodation! Enjoy!'
Then he shut the van door and drove off into the early evening. Tracey could only shiver in fear at what lay ahead of her when she finally arrived at the prison.
-
6)
The van pulled up at last and Tracey felt a mixture of relief and nervous anticipation at her arrival at what she could only assume was Eastfield Prison for Women.
'OK, bitches, you can get out now!' said the guard, unlocking the back door to the van. 'Welcome to your new home. As all of you are maximum security inmates you can expect the harshest treatment now we've got you safely under lock and key.'
Tracey and the other women shuffled out of the van. They made their way wearily towards the prison reception area.
If she'd thought the attitude of the guards had been bad on the van she soon found out that it was even worse now that she was inside the prison itself.
'Right, five cunts here, all of you with instructions to be held in maximum security. Hm, all of you have been convicted except for one. It's a bit unusual for a remand prisoner to be placed in maximum security. What have you done to get such an honour?'
Tracey could not see him but she realised he must mean her. Of course being gagged and hooded it was completely impossible for her to respond and the guard in charge of reception laughed as he read her charge sheet and then looked back at the diminutive Tracey.
'Resisting arrest, eh? Must be more to you than meets the eye! Well, let's get you processed. Take her hood off and take the gag out. I need to ask her a few questions.'
Tracey felt a blessed sense of relief as the hood was removed and the gag taken out. She gasped as normal breathing came back and her eyes blinked against the brightness of the electric lights.
'Name?'
'Tracey Smith.'
'Right, Smith, the governor is about to welcome the prison's newest recruits. Stand to attention when he comes here!'
Then he removed the handcuffs and shackles and Tracey felt the welcome sensation of at least bodily freedom. After all five of the women were nude and free they stood there waiting for developments.
A couple of minutes passed and then the governor appeared with a woman guard in her early thirties in tow.
'Good evening, cunts,' said the governor. 'I'm Mr. Chambers the governor of this prison but you will call me sir. This is guard Lucy Jones but you will call her ma'am. In fact you will call all male guards sir and all female ones ma'am. Do you understand, bitches?'
'Yes, sir,' the five women answered in weary unison.
'Very well,' said Chambers. 'Let's take the mug shots of the new cunts now.'
The women had to turn around in a full circle and as they did so a series of photographs were taken of them. Every detail like moles, scars, colour of pubic hair, tattoos, freckles and so on was noted in the prison record.
'This will help us identify you easily if you try to escape,' Chambers told them.
Tracey felt as if she was an unwilling participant in a bad reality TV show and wished the whole process would end soon. It seemed to take ages before the governor was satisfied.
'Now normally we'd give you a strip search and full body cavity search but as the police have already done that we'll move on to the next stage of the induction procedure,' said Chambers. 'We'll take you down to the medical centre of the prison where you'll be required to undergo various tests.'
Tracey and the other women followed the governor and guard Lucy through the corridors till they came to a door that was unlocked with a key and then made their way through another long corridor till they came to a further door that read 'medical centre.' The door was opened and Tracey gazed in bafflement at the sight that met her eyes.
In the room was a section that looked like a shower block - naturally without any kind of cubicle or privacy screen - and various rings, bars and a table.
'OK, bitches, up against the wall!' Lucy Jones ordered.
They obeyed immediately.
'Now spread your legs as wide apart as possible and keep your hands by your sides unless you're told different.'
At once they did what she told them.
'Right, I'm not sure how many of you have enjoyed our hospitality before,' said Lucy with a big grin. 'But for the benefit of the newcomers I'll explain. We need to make sure that you're all clean and disease-free so what happens now is that all of you are going to be sprayed with a delousing fluid. You will all scrub it on your body and then eventually you'll be allowed to rinse it off under the showers. OK, Smith, you go first. Just do everything I tell you.'
Nervously Tracey waited for her instructions.
'Stand in the middle of the room, Smith,' Lucy commanded.
Tracey did as she was told.
Lucy then walked up to her and threaded a length of rope between two of the rings. Satisfied that it was taut enough she then tied the other ends around Tracey's wrists.
'Right, we'll string you up from the ropes now, Smith,' Lucy told her.
Tracey felt herself being lifted off the ground so that she was standing on tip-toe and her arms were also pulled up by the ropes and spread wide apart.
'OK, I'll turn on the hose now,' said Lucy.
Tracey heard the sudden rushing of what she would normally have assumed was water but of course she knew was the delousing fluid that was about to be applied to her naked and helpless body.
Lucy began spraying Tracey's head, taking good care to cover her hair and neck thoroughly befoe she began directing the powerful jet down her back. She lingered over her armpits and then turned around, spraying Tracey's face, ears, mouth and nose before moving on to her breasts. Again she took her time over 'delousing' them and then moved on to her stomach and once more spent quite some time playing the fluid inside Tracey's belly button. Then she moved on to Tracey's legs and ordered her to spread them wide apart. Both the front and back of her legs and the inside folds of her flesh were sprayed with the fluid before finally her feet and toes were given the treatment.
'OK, Smith, now spread your legs,' Lucy commanded her. 'I'm going to delouse your cunt and arse.'
Tracey protested silently but of course said nothing, meekly obeying the order. She spread her legs and her cunt and then arse received the longest and most invasive treatment of the lot. The fluid stang like mad as it went between her vagina and her butt cheeks and every part of her body was stinging and stinking from the delousing fluid that had been sprayed all over it.
'Right, Smith, that's you done. Stand up against the wall, hands on your head and legs spread. Wait there till I tell you what to do next.'
Tracey was relieved that at least this part of her ordeal was over. She waited for the other prisoners to go through the delousing procedure.
It was about another half an hour before all the group had been thoroughly deloused. Tracey suddenly realised that as she had been the first victim of the procedure the length of time that the fluid remained on her body meant that the longer it stayed there the more it stang. Her naked skin felt utterly raw but of course this part of the ordeal was anything but over yet.
Further humiliation followed as Lucy told them to pick up a brush. Tracey assumed it was to clean herself up but the guard had more sadistic ideas than that about its use.
'Right, bitches, use this brush to scrub the delousing liquid right into your skin. And I mean every part of your body - face, legs, hands, feet, neck, belly, tits, cunt and arse. Only when you've finished doing that will you be allowed to take a shower and rinse off the liquid.'
She deliberately made them do it one by one so Tracey was the last to be allowed to scrub the liquid into her naked body. To her horror it was a really nasty type of hard scrubbing brush with sharp bristles. It hurt like hell and she was glad when finally the sadistic Lucy appeared satisfied.
'OK, Smith, you can shower now,' she said.
Tracey was the last into the shower block and she was glad to be able to rinse off the stinging and foul-smelling stuff from her body. The water in the showers was freezing cold which by now didn't surprise Tracey at all. Lucy forced her to stay under the cold shower for a good ten minutes until at last she was allowed to come out.
'OK, rub yourself down with a towel, Smith,' Lucy told her. 'When you're dry follow me and the other bitches for your medical inspection.'
Tracey could only wonder what further horrors lay in store for her now!
-
7)
Tracey spent a thoroughly uncomfortable night being naked in her solitary cell. She felt totally oppressed by the heat and the lack of anything in her cell to focus on drove her nearly mad. The bars and bare wall made her feel claustrophobic and she wished she'd been put in general population rather than in solitary. She had no fresh air coming in to the cell, only the blasts of heat entering. It was incredibly hard for her to sleep but somehow she managed a fitful rest.
Morning came at last and at 5.30 a.m. (though Tracey had no idea of the time) the door to her cell was opened. Lucy and a male guard gazed at her and then disconnected her chains from the cell restraints. She was still handcuffed and her ankles were still fettered but at least she was now able to walk.
'Cumfy, Smith?' Lucy asked cruelly. 'Had a good nights sleep?'
'Not really, ma'am,' Tracey answered with what little spirit she had left.
Lucy laughed.
'Well, you're not here to enjoy yourself so tough shit! Now get a fucking move on unless you want to be tasered!'
'No, ma'am,' Tracey said quickly.
She moved out of her cell, pushed along by Lucy and the male guard. In a few minutes she found herself facing a shower block.
Lucy removed her handcuffs and shackles and pointed to towards the shower block.
'In you go, Smith. You stink like fuck and you need to get cleaned up!'
Tracey was glad to be free of the cuffs and shackles and went inside the shower block. She saw at once that there were no individual cubicles nor any kind of doors or shower screens. The women obviously had to shower naked in the full view of the guards. Realising that any kind of protest would be futile, Tracey picked up the small bar of soap and the rough flannel and began to wash herself. Lucy turned on the shower and, as Tracey had half expected, a torrent of freezing cold water came rushing through.
Shivering with the cold, Tracey still managed somehow to wash herself. When she got out Lucy threw her a rough towel that was abrasive against her skin as she dried herself but she knew better than to complain.
'OK, Smith, hands out in front of you this time!' Lucy ordered.
Tracey did as she was told and this time her wrists were handcuffed in front of her. Then the shackles were replaced on her legs.
'Good,' said Lucy. 'Now we'll take you to the governor so he can decide what to do with you.'
Tracey found herself once more facing Mr Chambers the prison governor and standing before him naked, handcuffed and shackled.
'Well, we meet again,' he smiled. 'Smith, isn't it?'
'Yes, sir,' Tracey answered.
'Well, as a remand prisoner you have slightly more choice than a convicted felon. So you can either volunteer to join one of the work parties or you can be locked up in your cell at all times except when you are eating, showering or exercising. The exercise programme is compulsory and will be available for half an hour every evening. What would you prefer, Smith; lockdown in your cell or to volunteer for one of our work programmes?'
Tracey, surprisingly, didn't hesitate.
'I'd like to volunteer, please, sir,' she said.
'Excellent! It's refreshing to see a good attitude from a new prisoner. Well, let me acquaint you with the rules on work parties. It's 6 o'clock in the morning and you'll take breakfast with the other inmates and then at 6.30 a.m. Miss Jones here will take you out to begin work. You'll work solidly from 6.45 a.m to 10.45 when you'll be allowed a five minute break. At 10.50 you will resume work and continue working until your lunch break at 1.50 p.m. You will then be allowed a fifteen minute break for lunch until 2.05 p.m. when you will resume your duties until your next five-minute break at 6.05 p.m. At 6.10 p.m. you will resume working until you are dismissed at 8.45 p.m. when you will be returned to prison and arrive back at 9 p.m. You will then be required to exercise for half an hour after which you will take your evening meal at 9.30 p.m. Following that you will be returned to your cell for the night. Miss Jones, I understand that Smith spent last night in solitary?'
'Yes, she did, Mr Chambers.'
'Do you think she should receive the same treatment tonight or should we put her with a cellmate?'
Lucy smiled cruelly.
'I think perhaps tonight we should put her with some cellmates.'
'Good. I'm sure you can find suitable people for her to share with.'
'I think so, sir,' Lucy gave an evil grin.
Tracey had already done the calculations and was beginning to regret volunteering for the work detail. She'd have to work over 14 hours and goodness only knew what sort of work she'd have to do. Knowing Lucy Jones' sadistic nature Tracey had the feeling it was going to be both tiring and unpleasant for her.
Lucy led her away and told her to join a group of women waiting for the prison van to take them off to their work details. Tracey was tempted to ask questions but the guards gave strict instructions for no talking so she stayed silent.
The women ranged in age from about 18 to around 40 and seemed to be divided into two main groups. Tracey wondered what exactly she'd have to do but there was no point in speculating and with the ban on talking she couldn't even ask. They drove off in silence for around 15 minutes before the van came to a halt.
'Right, group one, get out,' Lucy ordered.
Tracey was one of the women that was ordered to exit the van and stand by the side of it.
'OK, I'll start you off working,' she told them.
They watched the van drive off with the other inmates and Tracey wondered curiously just what they would be doing and whether or not their tasks would be worse than her group.
'OK, you lucky bitches,' Lucy grinned. 'The prison has just won a new contract and we're using inmate labour to do the work! You'll be building a new luxury hotel so all of you will be delighted to hear that you'll be working at heavy construction while you're our guests!'
Tracey groaned inwardly at the prospect. Heavy construction! God, she was hardly the right physical type to go in for heavy building labour! But there was nothing at all she could do about it. Having volunteered, she'd be stuck with it until she was released in the next few days.
-
8)
When they arrived at the construction site Tracey and the other females working on the chain gang were secured with heavy shackles on their ankles and wrists. The cuffs were fastened in front of them so they could work but that was the limit of their freedom. Each one of the inmates was connected to the next girl by the shackles on their ankles so escape was even more impossible. Naked, shackled and handcuffed, the girls made their way into another van and were then dropped off at a large section of rocky land. As usual, Tracey's bondage was stricter than the others. In addition to the fetters on her wrists and ankles, an iron collar was fitted around her neck and then padlocked securely with a key that the guard held. Another metal band was then fastened around her waist and again padlocked securely. Throughly unhappy, Tracey waited for her orders. Most of the other inmates already knew what to expect but Lucy walked straight up to her and laughed.
'Typical, Smith!' she said. 'You are so fucking thick, aren't you? See those rocks over there?'
She pointed in the direction of the rocks and Tracey nodded miserably.
'Yes, ma'am.'
'Good. At least your eyes are working! Now your job, Smith, is to break those rocks and then load them up onto trolleys. There are 10 of you and I expect you all to be able to crush and load 5 tons of rock today. Smith, I expect you to be able to crush 2 tons of rock all on your own.'
Tracey's eyes widened at that instruction. My God, how on earth could she possibly manage to break so much rock all on her own? But Lucy was remorseless.
'Any failure to meet your daily quota will result in immediate and harsh punishment. Do you understand?'
'Yes, ma'am,' a thoroughly miserable Tracey replied.
'Well, move that fat lazy arse of yours and get working!' Lucy shouted at her.
Tracey and the other women moved off towards the rocks. Most of the women had pick-axes or sledgehammers but Tracey was handed a small hammer of the type you'd use at home to bang in a nail. She gasped as she realised she'd be expected to do the hardest work and yet with the worst tool of all the women. It dawned on her that this was deliberate and that at the end of the day she was going to be 'punished' for 'failing to meet her quota.' God, this is horrible, she thought. How can I possibly survive the weekend before I come to trial on Monday?
After a couple of hours her arms ached from the constant swinging of the hammer and she'd only managed to make a pretty pathetic impression on the rock. The other women were much further forward and most of them looked far stronger and were taller than Tracey. She already felt utterly exhausted and yet she knew there were hours of this to follow before the team would finally return to the prison.
Lucy came up to her, swinging a whip ostentatiously as she did so. She smiled right into Tracey's miserable face.
'Well, Smith, not used to hard work, are we? You'd better start getting used to it or this whip will be making contact with that fat lazy arse of yours!'
Tracey said nothing but tried to put more oomph into her swings of the hammer. It made very little difference and after another half hour she collapsed on the ground in utter exhaustion. Lucy was ready to pounce as soon as she saw that.
'Get up, Smith, you workshy fucking cunt!' she shouted. 'No slacking on my team!'
Tracey somehow staggered back to her feet. Lucy grinned happily as she saw her utter exhaustion.
'Right, bitches,' she told the other workers, 'at the end of the day your work quotas will be assessed. And if they're not met then you'll all be punished - unless you all tell me which one of you is responsible for that failure. Back to work, Smith, before I whip your arse!'
Tracey groaned and carried on swinging away at the rocks with her tiny hammer. The other women were much further forward in their work and she already knew what would happen to her at the end of the day.
Sure enough, when the shift finally finished Lucy lined up the prisoners and told them they'd failed to meet their quota.
'Unless you tell me which one of you is to blame you'll all be punished. Who was it?'
The other inmates looked at each other for a moment and then unanimously spoke.
'Tracey Smith,' they said.
Lucy smiled coldly.
'I thought it would be you. Very well, you can all go back to prison now. I'll deal with you on your return, Smith.'
Tracey passed the journey back to the prison in a state of mounting dread. She knew that Lucy would 'punish' her but she had no idea what exactly that would mean.
On arrival the other inmates went into the canteen to eat their evening meal. Tracey was taken to one side by Lucy and
her cuffs removed briefly from her wrists before being refastened behind her back. She was then taken over to a tall wooden pole and a chain attached to her handcuffs that was fastened to the pole.
'Well, Smith, laziness is a serious offence in this place,' she told her. 'Now as this is your first offence I will be lenient with you. Any further failures on your part will not be deal with so mildly. Do you understand?'
'Yes, ma'am,' Tracey answered in a trembling voice.
'Good. Well, as I'm being merciful you'll only get 40 strokes of the cane.'
'Forty strokes!' Tracey gasped in horror at the prospect. 'But that's terrible! I don't think I can survive that!'
Lucy laughed when she heard that.
'Smith, believe me, you can and you will. Now I expect you to count each single stroke and to thank me after each one. You'll say 'one, thank you, ma'am,' 'two, thank you, ma'am,' and so on. If you lose count I'll start again from the very beginning and none of the strokes you've already had will count. Get ready for your just punishment, Smith!'
Tracey flinched in anticipation of the first blow. Lucy swished the cane through the air theatrically and she shuddered even though the cane didn't make contact with her flesh.
When the first stroke landed on her large arse she cried out in pain.
'Ow! One. Thank you, ma'am,' she somehow remembered to say.
As the process continued she'd got to ten with a very sore arse when Lucy stopped for a moment.
'Time to change targets, Smith,' she grinned. 'You didn't think you'd get the whole lot on your fat lazy arse, did you?'
'I... I ... I don't know what to expect, ma'am,' Tracey mumbled.
'Good. Well, I'll turn you around now. The next ten are going on that soft belly of yours.'
Tracey winced in anticipation and as she'd expected the pain was much more intense on the soft flesh of her belly. She somehow managed to count each stroke and express her 'gratitude' at the end but Lucy just smiled sadistically.
'Now it's time to cane those fat flabby tits of yours,' she grinned.
Tracey gasped and stared at her in horror.
'Please, ma'am, please don't,' she begged. 'That will hurt me even more!'
'Yes, it will,' Lucy smiled. 'Don't forget to count each stroke and thank me after each one!'
The pain was almost unbearable as Lucy swished ten hard firm strokes across Tracey's large tits. Somehow she managed to get to the end and then dangled from the wooden pole sobbing her eyes out.
'Now the last ten,' Lucy told her sadistically. 'I'm going to prepare you for them first.'
To her horror Tracey felt a wooden spreader bar being inserted between the shackles on her ankles. She knew at once what was going to happen to her next.
Lucy grinned happily as she set about her work.
'Yes, that's right, Smith. The final ten strokes are going right up that dirty cunt of yours!'
Tracey flinched away in anticipation but there was no escape. The remorseless rain of strokes landed squarely between her legs and stung her cunt viciously. She howled and sobbed her way through the final ten strokes.
'Well, let that be a lesson to you, Smith,' said an openly laughing Lucy. 'Any further disobedience or failure on your part will result in harsher punishment that will make what you've just experienced look like a walk in the park. Now move that fat lazy arse of yours and get your meal!'
'Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am,' a bruised and miserable Tracey answered.
---------------------------------
-
9)
After a sore and thoroughly frightened Tracey ate her unappetising meal she took part in the half hour exercise programme before being led away by Lucy to her new cell. Last night she had slept in solitary but tonight she'd have cellmates.
Lucy opened the door of a cell and pushed Tracey inside.
'I'll put you with two of our trusties,' she told the young girl, grinning. 'I'm sure they'll make you welcome.'
Even at a cursory glance Tracey could see the two women in their early thirties looked butch as hell. She nervously looked at them both as the door was closed behind her and locked.
'Hello,' she said.
The two women looked at her with obvious interest.
'What's your name, bitch?'
'Tracey Smith. What's yours?'
They looked at each other and laughed.
'Got no respect, this one,' said the slightly older woman.
'Yeah, we'll have to do something about that,' the other woman said. 'Right, Smith, let's tell you how it's going to be for you now you're our cellmate. Your job is to give us pleasure. Got that, cunt?'
Tracey swallowed hard. She had a pretty good idea what that demand was going to mean.
'I think so,' she answered nervously. 'What exactly do you want me to do?'
'To begin with,' said the older woman, 'you always call us ma'am or - if you're addressing both of us - ladies. Got that, bitch?'
'Yes, ma'am. Yes, ladies,' Tracey answered quickly.
'Good,' the older woman answered. 'Now as to what we want you to do the answer is simple. Anything we tell you to. Now you can make a start by licking our cunts. And I expect you to give each of us at least three orgasms before we're satisfied so no slacking, bitch!'
'Yes, ladies,' Tracey said miserably.
So she lay on the cold cell floor while the older woman used her face as a cushion as Tracey used her tongue as best she could to satisfy her tormentor. Somehow she managed to find the strength to give her the three orgasms she'd demanded and then she farted in Tracey's face before getting up and pointing to her cellmate.
'Your turn now,' she laughed.
Once more an already exhausted Tracey worked away busily and somehow managed to give her companion the three orgasms she had ordered. Then as the two women gazed at the shattered Tracey lying naked and worn out on the floor, they grinned at each other happily.
'Let's rape the bitch with our strap-ons!' said the older woman.
Tracey was pulled up roughly by her hair and they slapped her face a few times before they put their strap-ons on and to Tracey's horror began fucking her brutally up her cunt and arse. It seemed to go on for ever but at last the two women tired of their sadistic fun. They took the two beds in the cell and left the exhausted Tracey to sleep naked on the floor to await the arrival of morning.
-
Donna's ordeal
donna barber
donnabarber81@yahoo.co.uk
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