RTM 2 Excerpt 1

 

Miss Carlton sniggered.

"Tell them what else you've discovered, Franny."

Francesca Wallace, former wife of the Honourable Harry Wallace, looked askance at the dreadful woman who now dictated her life. Did she really want her to tell her creepy old friends about their sordid life together? Just one look at Miriam Carlton's face made it clear that she did.

"I...I've discovered that I'm a l...lesbian, madam. I tried to pretend by marrying a man I never loved, but in reality I was just waiting for the right woman."

Miriam nodded self-righteously at the words. Luckily for Franny, she'd remembered them almost exactly as instructed.

And the right woman is presumably Miss Carlton?" Asked Mavis, studying the girl's shame-filled faced intently.

"Oh yes, madam! Miss Carlton has been so good to me since I was paroled from the island."

"It's only been a week, ladies, but I've managed to teach Franny lots of new things. She's such a willing student."

"I'll bet she is," replied Ann Wharton with a snort of laughter.

Francesca blinked rapidly to try and keep the tears from her eyes. The vile woman had been unable to keep her hands off her. She' stripped her and spanked her and inserted at least one finger into all of her orifices. She'd wrapped her fat, hairy legs around Francesca's head and made her lick her out for hours.

"Why is she in the uniform, Miriam? It's cute of course, but is there a particular reason?"

"I suppose you could call me an old softie, but Franny does love to play her games. She literally begged me this morning to dress up in her old school uniform and play teachers and students. What else could I do?"

As the three old women sniggered at this, Francesca's eyes dropped to her well-polished, black leather flats. it went without saying that the horrible woman had twisted the truth out of all recognition. They certainly had played 'teachers' that morning, but entirely at her instigation. A tear of self-pity slowly made its way down her cheek.

"You'll have to excuse her, she's a little sulky. I had to take a cane to her backside earlier, didn't I, Franny?"

"Y...yes you did, miss."

"Could you tell my friends why that was please?"

Francesca glanced quickly around the crowded cafe, hoping that nobody was listening.

"It was because...because I w...wouldn't..."

"Franny, dear. I have my hairbrush in my handbag. The wooden-backed one that makes you cry."

The girl swallowed.

"It was because I wouldn't...rim you, miss," she whispered.

"Rim her!" said Ann Wharton in such a loud voice that half the cafe turned to see what was going on. "What a darling little girl you are!"

Being of a slightly more conservative nature than her two friends, Mavis had to ask what the verb 'rim' meant in that sense. Francesca, of course, was required to supply the answer.

"It means to put my tongue into Miss Carlton's b...bottom, madam. And stimulate her, madam," she added helpfully.

Despite her shock, Mavis suddenly had an image in her head that involved both her lodgers. She had a good idea already how she would be spending her evening.

 

RTM 2 Excerpt 2

 

"What do you reckon about that pair?"

Bob Wells stubbed his muddy finger against the screen of their ancient computer. He and his wife were sat side by side, browsing the State's online register with photos of paroled prisoners.

Jessie Wells rolled her eyes at her husband. Bob was 57 next birthday and the cleavage he was pointing at belonged to a girl of 21. Her hubby might have a paunch, be balding and missing half his teeth, but there was life in her wicked old dog yet!

"What about the mother?" Jessie retorted.

Bob made a face and they both laughed at each other. Their banter had been going on for half an hour as they scrolled through the site. They'd already ogled singles, fiancés, spouses, fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, lesbians and gays, and just about every other possible combination.

Jessie made the argument for two strong males because of their physical usefulness on the farm. Her tongue was only half in her cheek because she liked the idea of a young man's tongue between her ample thighs.

Bob countered with the case for two young females because they could help in the kitchen and they brighten up the place. In truth he wanted some green fields to plough with his old tractor.

In the end, they'd both compromised on looking for one parolee of each gender; probably a married couple.

But then they came across this pretty pair; a daughter aged 21 and her mum aged 47.

"Isn't there a husband?" Jessie asked.

"He's already been allocated." Bob replied with a nonchalant shrug. "According to this, the husband and son are part of a group of a dozen males who've already been assigned to Northern Mines Limited. So these two useful women are going begging."

"Northern Mines? But that's a hundred miles away!"

"So what?" Bob wiped his nose on the back of his hand.

He was a ruddy-faced man wearing a pair of blue dungarees that were spattered in mud and dung. He was bald except for a ring of silver-grey hair above his protruding ears. Nobody would ever have called Bob a gift to women. Nevertheless, Jessie loved him just as much as when they first married.

Together they ran a subsistence farm in the far north of the mainland. It was a tough living and they had no time for city folks and their genteel ways. Neither Bob nor Jessie was political but they certainly approved of the Payback Act.

"Well," Jessie said, "it seems unkind separating two women so far from their men folk like that."

"Pah." Bob snorted. "A hundred miles is the same as ten miles. They'll all be kept too busy to waste time visiting each other. They should have thought of that before they hogged all the people's money for themselves."

***

And so it was that. Just two days later, Lucy and Lavinia Marvell-Jones were transported north to Whites Farm. The train journey from the capital took 30 hours on ancient rolling stock inside a crowded wagon.

There were 36 of them when they set off, all standing, holding onto loops that dangled from the ceiling, like on old subway trains. Their bodies were wedged against each other. Each wore a diaper as there were no facilities in the wagon. Talking was forbidden. They travelled in silence.

Gradually their companions exited at various stations on the slow route northwards. Lucy and Lavinia were the very last. When they finally arrived at the tiny station, they were hungry, thirsty, exhausted and stinking.

"Here we are, Bob." The local policeman said, handing over the two women with a lewd wink. "Got yourself a fine pair there."

Bob winked back, appraising the pair like they were prize heifers. Lucy was 21, round-faced, full-lipped, with a splendid rack of tits. She was topless, dressed only in a pair of black stockings and a suspender belt that framed a bulging diaper. He gave her tits a seductive leer. They were indeed a fine pair.

Her mum, Lavinia, was in fine fettle for a 47yr old. Her tits were bigger, droopier, but still shapely. You could see the two mares were related. The mum's hair was greying slightly and it looked in need of a good wash. Her nose was long and it made her look a bit horse-faced. But her generous mouth looked like it could still do a good job.

"Welcome, ladies."