EVE IN EDEN 46 - discipline story



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The guards were opening the doors all along the corridor and groups of naked women were spilling out and making their way to the parade ground. When all had been formed up in lines, and the numbers checked, they were marched off in the chilly dawn to a dining hall for breakfast.
The food was simple but adequate, porridge, bread and margarine, even the choice of orange or apple to finish and, she was relieved to find, plenty of it. They were not intended to starve while they trained. She learnt in cautious whispers from Kathy and Jose that breakfast was the same every day, but they got a little variety in their other meals, which were also adequate.
"It`s the same as with the salve," Kath explained, "they daren`t risk returning us to our men in anything but prime condition."
After breakfast some numbers were called, 213 among them, and she had to leave her new friends and report to the office. She waited in line until called and stood in front of the Duty Officer`s desk.
"213," the latter read out from the list in front of her, "I see you`re applying for immigration. There are some special remarks regarding your treatment, and we`ll deal with them later when we have assessed your progress. Meanwhile you`ll go the standard course, like all the Eden born girls. You`ll get light duties the first few days, then settle down to make your pair. When you`ve completed a respectable pair of drawers we`ll see about the next phase."
`Light duties ` consisted of collecting, emptying and cleaning the lidded pails that served for nightly needs in all the cells. Not actually very hard work, as befitted her healing back, but a humiliating task for a young woman used to commanding others and being provided luxury bathrooms wherever she went. Still she had been warned, and Daphne`s fortnight of humiliation had inoculated her to some extent and she accepted it for what it was, a trial and a lesson in humility. To reinforce the point, she was set to fill in the rest of each day scrubbing the floors of the endless stone-flagged corridors, still naked and on her knees, with periodic visits from guards, who rewarded her efforts with cracking strokes of whip or cane on her bare bent buttocks. Nothing very much in themselves but, by the end of each day, she had collected the equivalent of a considerable thrashing
After a three day stint as latrine lady she joined the rest in their daily routine.
Kath, Jose and a third girl, Carla, had all been to the same college together and had come to serve their time immediately after graduation. The other two girls, Mary and Connie, were only just eighteen. They were friends, and had elected to be initiated as women after high school. Now that she was pronounced fit, Eve joined them on the parade ground after breakfast each morning for some strenuous exercise.
The drills were many and various, but all were calculated to take a woman to the edge of endurance. There was pack drill, with each girl carrying a backpack loaded to half her body weight. Hunched under the load, they were set to march steadily round the edge of the parade ground, until their legs felt like jelly, and their shoulders ached. To keep them moving when their tired muscles screamed for rest, the guards, positioned strategically round the tract, would lash out at legs or bums with their dog whips or the swagger canes they carried on parade, quickening the pace again and drawing short yelps of distress from the sweating, naked girls.
At least it seemed to have some sense to it, even if useless, but shot drill was designed to try the spirit by its totally futility. Each side of the square were piles of antique cannon balls, each weighing fifteen pounds, simple spheres of cast iron stacked up in pyramids, four balls in a row at the base, tapering to a single shot on top, a total of thirty lifeless lumps of iron. A girl given shot drill had to pick up a ball in her hands and run with it to the far side of the square to set it down on an empty base. One by one she had to carry the awkward heavy balls until she had built up a full pyramid on the far side. Then she repeated the useless labour by carrying each ball back to where it had come from, until all was just as it started.
A smooth fifteen pound round shot was an uncomfortable burden for a girl, requiring considerable effort merely to grip it safely, let alone run bare foot across a sandy parade ground under a quickly heating sun. One slip and tender finger tips would be pinched, one sign of slackening and a whip or cane would wrap itself round the sweating straining thighs or buttocks. and all this for nothing. And sometimes one run was not enough. Special category candidates, and Eve had that honour, might have to repeat the performance all over again, starting with already aching limbs and sore feet and fingers.
As she dragged herself back with the other girls, after her first morning`s experience of hard physical exercise, her naked body streaked with sweat and dust she asked Kath when they could look forward to a shower.
"No showers here," Kath informed her, "Once a fortnight you go back into the waterwheel for a dowsing. That`s the nearest thing to a shower around these parts."
She`d only been here a few days, and this was her first time in the rapidly rising morning heat. Seemed like Daphne had known what she`d been doing after all.
With the end of exercise came work, the traditional `pair`. The girls were marched into the workrooms and sat at benches and looms. It was a very old regime, harking back to the days when women made all their own cloth and clothes. They started with a spinning wheel, learning to produce fine cotton thread from the heaps of raw cotton dumped in front of them. Learning was rapid under the whips and canes, and the hours long, and each girl had to produce enough material to make the cloth that would eventually be her `pair`. When she`d completed her stint at the spinning wheel, she was transferred to the weaving shed, and worked a loom to weave a form of coarse cotton cloth. quality was controlled by the usual mechanism of stinging cane and bare female buttock, but even the most stringent application could not guarantee more than a very rough and uneven material.



From the weaving shed Eve progressed to the more congenial work of cutting out and sewing her `pair`, clumsy and humiliating drawers, their baggy legs coming almost to the knee and fastened at the waist by tapes.
And between the different work rooms there was the `hook`!
The `freezer` was meant to be self-supporting to a high degree. Much of the food came from the farm attached to the establishment and worked by the women. They even grew the cotton for their drawers, and the power for lighting, pumping water, etc., was largely produced in the mills. Eve had heard rumours of the mills, but women seemed to shy away from recalling them too vividly. It was soon apparent why. It was an amazing sight that greeted her the first morning she was sent to work her shift on the wheel. In a large stone built chamber, as bleak as any of the multitude of others she had visited already, but rather larger and higher than most, a long horizontal cylinder ran across one side. It was built like the wheel of a watermill, with long plank `paddles` forming the outer surface, but arranged, not to be driven by a stream, but as a set of steps, for this was a treadmill, and some eight or ten girls were steadily climbing the endlessly descending staircase, holding onto a rail in front of them to keep their balance. That was bad enough but their sweating nudity and straining limbs were not the only thing that sent a shock of apprehension through her. Each straining naked female had a brutal iron hook thrust up her anus, from which a rope ran over a pulley above to be fastened to a cleat on the wall. It did not need much imagination to guess at the effect, if the girl slackened even for a moment in her upward climb, and her weight fell on the hook that penetrated her rear. The guards had no need to use whips or canes in here. The hook would work just as effectively as the lash.
One of the bored guards slackened a cleated rope and let down an unbaited hook.
"On your hands and knees girl," she ordered, and Eve dropped obediently into the required position. The guard came round to her head, carrying the hook. Eve`s eyes opened wide at the sight close to. It was even larger than she had thought, a serious intruder for a tender female sphincter, as large as a man`s prick, to which the business end had a distinct resemblance, no doubt intentional.
"Here, give it a good suck," the guard suggested, offering the pseudo penis, "you`ll make it easier on yourself when it goes in."
This was no place for modesty or protest. The woman obviously meant it kindly, and Eve could see the sense in her suggestion. She gathered her saliva and put her mouth over the blunt helmet end, coating it as thickly and completely as she could. The guard gave her a minute or two to make the best job she could then took it out of her mouth and went behind her kneeling figure. She had been prepared for what followed and her conscientious lubrication certainly softened the blow but, even so, the penetration of her anus was torture. The thick solidity of the iron was definitely girl-unfriendly, and no amount of preparation could make it anything but a nightmare to have that unfeeling metal phallus stuffed rudely up her arse. She grunted and blew and tried to relax her sphincter as much as possible to aid its entry, but she was panting and sweating all over again, by the time it sank fully home.
"Up, girl," the guard ordered, and reinforced the command by jerking none too gently on the rope attached to the hook. Propelled by a shaft of agony that lanced her belly she sprang to her feet, her legs bowed to accommodate the intruder as comfortably as she could, and moved over to the wheel, where it rotated remorselessly, the steps descending in a never ending succession. Urged on by more tugs on the hook, she climbed the moving stair until she could grip the handrail, then went on climbing step after step, to maintain her position. The guard tied off her rope on a cleat. Now she was tethered firmly and obliged to keep walking if she wanted to avoid deeper impalement. For the moment she could cope, it was just like climbing the stairs to a higher floor, but the floor never came, only another flight of stairs. She was fresh for the moment, but the other girls had been on for some time already. Her neighbour was sweating profusely and groaning mournfully, as she desperately tried to keep up, and keep the hook from pulling on her sore anus or pushing into her tender bowel. Next to her an older woman seemed in dire trouble, her rope almost continuously taut and dragging exhausted howls from the suffering wheel walker. It seemed she was at the end of her shift, as well as her tether, and at that moment the guard slacked the rope and the dog-tired woman let herself drop with the wheel until she could collapse on the solid ground below.
Eve couldn`t spare her more than a parting glance, she had troubles of her own to think about. The pace was beginning to make itself known in her unaccustomed legs. True she had been fit enough when she entered, and worked hard since, but this climbing made demands of its own on slightly different muscles, which were becoming tired now. Besides, the soreness in her bum was getting worse with the continuous motion, and had become a constant nagging pain, without even having the pressure of the rope on it. By the time her first break came round, she was more than ready.
They each walked for twenty minutes without a break, then were let down for five to recover, after which they were sent back onto the unending climb for another stretch, keeping the wheel loaded with sufficient toiling females to drive the generators. It was the worst form of forced labour she could imagine, and Eve was no different from her sisters in this grim establishment, in physically cringing when it became her turn again to do a stint on the hook.
Life in the freezer seemed an interminable round of labour and pain. There was too the humiliation of the lack of hygiene provided for the sweat-soaked, dust coated, nakedness they lived in, a grimy filthiness only relieved by another visit to the `waterwheel`, where she spun in agony under the lash of the icy jet, coming away bruised and sore but, for the moment, clean. With the bruising bath went another crude barbaring to restore the polish of her scalp. Eventually though the month was up and her degrading drawers completed. Most of her friends had left one by one as their own terms were up; had stood to the triangle in the yard for a farewell flogging, and left the next morning, their welts still livid, clad only in their newly manufactured underpants. From what the others told her, she understood they would be received by their relatives at the gates and taken off for a `coming-of-age` party, still dressed in no more than their drawers, and carrying their weals and polished skulls as badges of rank.
But when her own time came she found herself, not straining at the triangle, but standing in front of the superintendent`s desk.
"You`ve done well, so far," that official admitted, "but I have to consider the comments and recommendations made by your sponsor, and agreed with by yourself. You do agree that your case required more than the standard treatment, as awarded to girls who have grown up under our customs?"
"Yes, Ma`am."



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