The deep south, the American Everglades, brutal guards in sweat-stained uniforms and a corrupt prison governor – lots of young women inmates bused-in to the new camp and with no one to save them from the guards - or the other horrors of the prison camp.
WARNING: You need a strong stomach for this one.
EXTRACT
It was a most pitiful wailing of pain and hopelessness that came from
the cowering naked girl. Her mud-streaked body lay face down in the
filthy cold slime of the Mississippi swamps and the bullwhip lashed
hard down across her soft skin. She curled up into a foetal position
to afford her some little protection, her slight frame racked by great
heaving sobs of deep misery. That sobbing increased as the five guards
unzipped and dropped their trousers; the girl knew only too well that
her pussy, anus and mouth would suffer terribly once again.
***
The coach ride had been long and uncomfortable for the eight women.
The stifling humid heat of the Deep South had made their light beige
prison overalls cling to their soaked bodies, sticking annoyingly to
their thrusting breasts to cause the two male guards to turn and leer
often. The trousers too offered little comfort, the damp material
pulled up to stick in between and to rub at their puffy pussy lips.
The steel bracelets of the handcuffs and leg irons, the heavy
perspiration and the movement of their bodies worked together to chaff
and redden the soft pale skin of their limbs.
The bus slowed, turned and bumped onto the dusty side road and moved
now deeper into the thick tangled undergrowth of the Everglades. Tall
trees and thick shrubs offered some shade from the relentless sun,
forming high hedges at the sides of the narrow track and a covering
canopy of foliage in many places. The bus jolted and bumped, rocked
and jarred, rattling noisily over a timber bridge to make this section
of the journey the most uncomfortable of all. It was then for the
women, a great relief as at last the prison compound came into sight.
The thick undergrowth opened out in dazzling spaciousness to show a
high wire fence topped with barbed wire and pegged at the corners by
tall watchtowers. It was a depressing and ominous looking place, in
its very own evil setting with the tangled everglades as a backdrop
but in a way a welcome end to a most tiring journey.
The bus followed the bumpy track that ran alongside the outer
perimeter of the fence to give the women their first sight of their
home to be. Patrolling armed guards sporting rifles and peaked caps
added to the sense of foreboding all of the women felt. They sat
silently taking in the long and low wooden buildings and the large
open square that lay between the huts. As they neared the open gate
their interest was taken by the array of wooden poles and structures
in the centre of the square, a most unusual addition to any prison
compound. A view held by all and voiced softy by only one, the petite
blonde Gilly.
`Exercise frames ha! And in this awful heat too.`
The prison coach swung through the gates and came to a halt next to
the reception block. They were ordered to wait until the gates had
closed and then were ushered out, the women shuffled in single file,
the restricting leg irons making walking a most difficult exercise.
Once inside the stiflingly hot reception hut they sat on wooden
benches, waiting their turn to be booked in.
It was a routine that they had been through before, prison after
prison they been sent to, the worst of the worst, the rebellious and
trouble-making ringleaders of discontent. The women were marked, their
names synonymous with minor scuffles and disputes, of disrespect for
authority and for challenging forcefully prison regulations. They were
then the 'bad apples' the few that soured the bunch and now, they had
been gathered together into one basket to rot and to decay without
contact or the opportunity of influencing others.
By the office door stood a guard, watching over the silent women,
tall and ape-like in his features he looked nothing like the clean and
well presented guards in the previous prisons. He was unshaven and
dirty, his sweat stained uniform crumpled and unwashed but worst of
all was the sickly evil grin that seemed permanently etched on his
face. Strangely, and several of the women noted this point, he wore no
pistol on his belt, instead there hung a long and thick baton that
held for them a terror all of its own.
`Mason,` he called out the name after referring to his clipboard.
The little blonde stood and shuffled slowly over toward the office,
her wrists chained together in front of her and her ankles shackled
likewise. As she passed the guard he extended his hand and grabbed at
her backside, taking a handful of her firm buttocks he squeezed the
orb of flesh hard, feeling and groping lecherously.
`Fuck off!` the woman shouted, and jerked her hips forward to be free
of his touch.
The swiftness of his response stunned all present. With a savage
backhanded swing he clubbed the back of his hand across her face to
drop the woman to the floor like a sack of potatoes. She lay
motionless muttering incoherently as her brain fought to cope with the
shock and the dull ache in the side of her face.
`Hey, shit!` one of the other women shouted angrily, `You can't do
that!`
His head threw back and he roared an evil laugh. The big guard
strolled casually over to stand before the objecting woman and leaned
down to bring his face close to hers. His tone of voice was low and
threatening, loaded with terrifying evil.
`Listen slut,` he growled, `here we do as we like. If I want to feel
your arse or your tits then I will, and you nor anyone else will stop
me.`
