A STATE OF SERVITUDE 27, tied girls stories

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A halt was called and five exhausted females, rivulets of salty perspiration, streaked with the dirt from the road, coursing down their stinging backs, trickling through the soft valley between their heaving breasts, running down their bellies to soak the matted fur growing in their crotches and making their tender slits smart before flowing on, mingled with their female juices to slick their rounded thighs and firm calves.
The pregnant girl, particularly, shone with her body`s wetness. Her swollen belly gleamed like some flesh coloured melon newly steeped in honey.
Water and ten minutes rest, and the overseer`s bark and stinging whip had them on their feet and grappling with the dragging load. It had to reach the fort that evening, so that the masons might be at work at first light. They stopped twice more before they started on the final leg. Each new start was harder to achieve than the last as limbs grew more tired and wills weakened, but the lash never weakened and it aided their efforts, so that they got their burden moving eventually, though at a cost that, their bleeding backs and tear streaked faces told only too clearly.
That night they were almost too done to eat their evening meal. They scooped up their bowls of stew with weary fingers and collapsed into a mingled heap of sweat soiled flesh and sticky limbs. They missed their usual sport in the icy stream, conscious of the smell that arose from their bodies, as they warmed in intimate contact. It was only later, when the first touch of light was faintly visible in he eastern sky, that first one then another let her hand fall on the nearest throbbing fork, where the strained thighs ached from four hours continuous heaving against the unfeeling cart, and slowly stroked the pulsing bud they found there until its owner arched her back, moaning and crying as the blessed relief flowed over her.
When all had had their solace they fell back into healing sleep again for the remaining hour allowed them, before they must drag their weary, stinking, bodies back to work.
They were not returned to the road gangs they had been working with, but were hitched to a wagon returning to the coast with soldiers` belongings, and military stores and equipment being returned for repair and renewal. The cart weighed almost as much as before, but they were going downhill almost all the way and, when the road eventually flattened on the plain, its surface was good and there were only a few pot-holes to jolt them, or call down the driver`s whip on their bare shoulders. They were two days on the road, but their sufferings were as nothing compared with that dreadful four hours when they had fought their tear and sweat stained way up the pass, though their backs still clearly showed the ravages of that savage haul two days later.
They seemed to have become permanent draught animals, sent down to the docks to unload the ships as they returned fearfully to the Euxine sea after the dangers of the winter had prevented any sailings. The numbers of vessels was reduced to a handful by fear of the pirates that Claudia had seen at first hand two years back.
She shuddered at the recollection. Undeniably life was hard for her at this moment, as naked as that pathetic mother and daughter on the ship, but at least she was protected from rape, and she would be free to return to a life of luxury in a month or two, while they were condemned to be the sport of cruel sailors so long as their bodies aroused men`s lust. Then, they would be either dropped into the sea with stones around their necks or sold for cash to some landsman who would drive them in his fields or mills for the rest of their miserable lives. It was hard to decide whether death or slavery would be the worst fate.

Down in the city, the women working their state service were kept in large camps, unlike the small groups operating in the mountains, and there was some small opportunity to mingle and exchange news in the short time between the end of the day`s work and their being barred in their huts for the night.
It was thus that Claudia made the acquaintance again of two women from her social days, days that seemed a lifetime away now, after months on the chain. Her gang had been wandering within the fence that surrounded the camp when they came across several other groups, apparently listening to some speaker. They went across to hear what was being said, and Claudia recognised the two cousins, Messalina and Poppea, the wards of the temple of Isis, whom she had seen occasionally in that other life.
Claudia was horrified to hear them denouncing the state, and particularly the men of the state, for demanding this service from them. They claimed that it degraded the women and affronted their dignity, and failed to mention that it was their way of repaying the men that fought and bled for them, and that there was dignity and nobility in serving the community, work that enhanced and valued their worth.
More and more women came over to see what was afoot, attracting the attention of the guards and, eventually, their commander. He did not approve of the sentiments the two rebellious cousins were expressing, and ordered them seized and recorded the tag numbers of the gangs that had been listening.
Retribution for this traducing of the state was not long in coming. The next morning, before work commenced, the women were paraded in a hollow square. At its centre the two cousins were secured by their wrists either side of a solid whipping post, set on a small platform so that all could see. The others of their gang, still chained to them, stood by in silent resentment and fear. The camp commandant mounted the platform and addressed the assembled women.
"Women of the state," he pronounced, "your service here is an honourable one and, moreover, one you owe the state for your protection and living. There are those among you who would fly in the face of reason by denying these manifest truths. Such folly cannot go unpunished and an example will be made."
He gestured towards the two naked women hanging from the post by their wrists.
"By rights," he said, "they should be flogged to the blood for their subversion, but I have been petitioned to show mercy by their guardians at the temple of Isis and certain noblewomen of this city. Accordingly they are condemned only to serve in the mills for a month, together with the rest of their gang, who did nothing to stop them and, indeed, seem infected with their pernicious poison. I only hope I do not live to regret my leniency."
A look of relief briefly crossed the faces of the two at the post at his decision, followed by a smirk of triumph, though their chain companions showed some apprehension at their own sentence. The Commandant had not finished, however.
"Moreover," he went on, "I am ashamed to hear that many of you seemed to feel that they might be listened to without protest, thus encouraging them in their folly, and exposing yourselves to their poison, when you should have cried shame on them and refused to let them pollute your minds. For this dereliction of duty, all those gangs found to have listened without protest will serve two weeks in the mills, to give them time to reflect on their ingratitude and folly."
The mills! Claudia had never been there, but she recalled only too clearly what Lavinia had said at their first meeting about her own punishment for selfishness in sex, and was not cheered.
Nor were her spirits lifted when her gang, along with the others, arrived at the place of their punitive labour. The mills ground all the corn for the city, crushed seed for oil, worked the pumps that lifted water from the river to the higher parts of the town via an elaborate system of lead pipes, letting it flow from ornamental fountains where all could come to fill their pots and jars. They were housed in a set of gloomy halls, bare stone walls contrasting with the decorated marble facades and interiors of all other public buildings. This was a strictly utilitarian institution, a place of grinding labour and aching toil.
Pumps and mills were driven by great wheels, similar in construction to those built to make use of a free flowing river but, in this case, the flow of water over the treads of the wheels was replaced by an endless succession of bare female feet, ceaselessly climbing the wooden stair that, just as remorselessly, lowered them back to the level from which they had started. In order to maintain one`s position on the stair, and there were compelling reasons why they should wish to do so, the women must march upwards at the pace of the wheel, be they never so weary. Limbs would ache until they felt they must drop if they moved one pace more. The air was filled with the groans and gasps of labouring women and fetid with the smell of their hot and unwashed bodies.


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