A STATE OF SERVITUDE 28, tied girls stories



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Claudia`s flesh crept as she was marched, naked as ever, into this dim and stinking world of sweating flesh and creaking machinery. The half-naked guards, with their long whips of plaited leather, left no doubt that their fate of a shirker here would be hard. In the event, she found that Lavinia had exaggerated nothing; in fact the reality was even worse than she had supposed.
Each of the great wheels that lined the dimly lit hall was wide enough for a chain gang to stand on it at one time. It was a feature that owed nothing to chance and everything to a conscious provision for the disciplining of refractory women. Her group was brought to line up facing one such great wheel, and they prepared to mount together, on command. First, though, they were to receive their `motivators`.
A guard passed down the line, slapping his hand down on one shoulder of each naked woman waiting to be set to the mill.
"Squat!" he commanded, and Claudia bent her knees until she sat on her heels.
"Put your hands on the ground in front of you!" and she leant forward to place her palms on the grimy stone paving of the mill building. The action lifted her buttocks slightly, and as her hands took her weight, her breasts dangled between her out stretched arms. Suddenly she flinched. A hand had invaded her anal cleft, seeking out her dimple.
"Be still!" It was the guard`s voice that growled at her, and presently she felt something wet and cool slapped into the groove, then thumbed brusquely into the tight anal orifice.
She whined in protest at the humiliating invasion, but the guard silenced her again, telling her she`d be grateful for the attention in a minute. He was not lying. What came next was a hard metallic nose nuzzling at the lubricated aperture. It found its target, made an initial lodgement, then she grunted sharply as it was thrust deep into her bowel.
"You wouldn`t have fancied that dry, I imagine," the guard responsible for her preparation observed, and she shuddered anew at the thought of that thick iron hook being forced into an ill prepared and reluctant sphincter.
Even so, it was no easy burden. She felt as if she was filled
from butt to gills, her anus already aching from its rude stretching. She felt it even more when the guard gathered up the slack of the chain to which it was attached and yanked upwards, forcing her to her feet. Her hands went behind her in desperate defence of her ravaged rectum, but there was no way in which she could have relieved herself of its grip, even without the guard to prevent it.
As it was, he used his cruel purchase on her gut to force her forward onto the wheel and up the stair of wooden treads, until she stood just above the level of the axle, where her weight would have its greatest driving power on the mill. The chain from the hook on which she was impaled ran over a pulley in the roof, and the guard hauled on the free end, until the tension in the chain kept the hook, and her, firmly in place. He moved back and secured the free end to a ring. Now she was in one sense free, her arms with no fetters, her ankles only restricted by the chain that fastened her loosely to her neighbours on the gang, something she had become so used to as to ignore most of the time.
Those others had been given the same preparation as herself and stood now, with iron stuffed rectums, like so many gaffed fish on a river bank, or skinned rabbits hung up on butchers` hooks, grasping the wooden rail that ran across at chest level to maintain their balance the better. They braced themselves at a warning call from the guards, and the man in charge released the brake that had held the wheel steady while they were mounted.
Claudia gasped in pain and panic. All around her she heard answering grunts from her neighbours. It felt as if the earth had fallen away from beneath her feet as the wheel moved and the tread dropped, letting her weight fall even harder onto the hook in her anus. Shocked by the pain, as the tip of the hook pressed against her entrails, she staggered up onto the next step, relieving the anguish in her belly, but the wheel was turning, the new step was falling in its turn, and she had to climb again and again and again and again...




It was an endless and unrelenting progression, marching up a slope that had no crest, doomed to climb and climb and go on climbing, until the overseers called a halt.
At first it was not so bad, once she had relieved the initial stab of the hook in her guts, no more effort than climbing a normal stair to an upper room, though a climb hampered by a solid chunk of iron in her rear that shifted with every movement of her thighs - each step twisted it in her bowel and reminded her of what would happen should she falter. But upper rooms usually require only a dozen steps to reach them and even if one is travelling to one on the fourth or fifth floor, there is an end to look forward to, and even respites on the way when one may pause on a landing and catch one`s breath.
There was no respite on the mill. The floor above was never attained, and any pause in one`s upward march was punished by a jagging pain as the hook struck home.
Soon her legs began to ache. But she daren`t pause, that first jab into her bowel had taught her what to expect. She bit her lip against the pain of the protesting muscles in her calves and thighs and stepped on. Sweat trickled down her back, and between her breasts. It was hot in this airless place and all the bodies treading the wheels streamed with perspiration, the heated woman flesh adding to the odour of pain and strain in which they were condemned to live. Scents of excrement encouraged the flies that settled on their moist parts, nearly driving them mad with their obscene attentions.
On and on she tramped, the steps never staying beneath her feet for long enough to snatch even a second of respite before the hook bit. She was moaning with the pain of keeping up the effort, and could hear the same sounds of distress from either side of her, where the others of her gang trod their own path of pain, but could spare no strength to consider their sufferings. This martyrdom on the wheel was enough to absorb all her remaining faculties, and she blundered on in a mist of pain and exhaustion.
She was very near to collapse when the wheel finally breaked to a halt. Only twenty minutes, but if felt like a lifetime! She hung sobbing to the rail in front of her, tears streaking her sweat-grimed face, her head drooping between her outstretched arms.
The relief was heaven, but it was not to last. The guards gave them water from a skin to replace the fluids they had lost in sweat and tears, and all too soon the warning came that the wheel would start again. The women groaned and pleaded, but the regime was inexorable: twenty minutes to each stint with a break of three minutes, a half hour every four stints, an hour every eight.
Claudia reached her first real break, after four stints, near to total collapse. Moreover her body was beginning to have other needs as well. She couldn`t tell how her bowel was faring - it was too sore to know if it was filling and, in any case, she could not have voided it with that great iron stopper in place. That same invader was pressing on her bladder and, despite the perspiration that covered her in a sticky lather, she just had to rid herself of the water that they were only too grateful to drink each break.
Except on the greater break after eight stints, they spent their rest periods standing on the stationary mill wheel, the hook immovably in place, and here she had to relieve her aching bladder, letting the hot liquid trickle shamingly down the inside of her thighs to soak the stained boards on which her bare feet stood, boards already reeking of past female urine, sweat and stale blood. And other more foul excretions too, though it was difficult to see how these had got past an iron butt plug.
After the eighth stint they were taken down, the chains that held their hooks slackened to enable them to step down from the wheel. They pleaded for the hooks themselves to be removed and the guards obliged them, but told them they were foolish to wish it and that they would think differently by the time their second large break came round. Unable to take in what was said, they merely renewed their pleas to be disimpaled, and sighed with the relief as the horrendous metal crescents were withdrawn.
They were feed and watered, and allowed to lie in straw to one side of the mill room, until the horn told them that their blessed hour of rest was up. They all sighed and groaned as they were driven back into place before the wheel. All too soon they were crouching again to receive back their hooks, and to learn their lesson. With the hook removed, their sphincter had relaxed again, closing the openings tightly and, moreover, the tissues were strained and sore. Entering the hooks was now even more painful than the first time, and they had to consider whether it might not have been better to have left them in place after all, letting the abused sphincter muscles stay open throughout the break, rather than causing them to be strained anew like this.




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