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Conjugal visits are rare in the U.S. but PD does not run the average prison. He keeps only one or two inmates at a time and for one as hot as Charlotte Vale he is definitely going to take advantage of her. She gets to languish a bit while he contemplates exactly what to do with her. It is likely to be the only peace she will get all day.

It is a long day and it shows no sign of ending as the sun goes down. Out in the woods PD may not have all of his tools available, but the one that matters is ready to go. She was let out of her cell for a reason and it was not just to look pretty and take a beating. PD wants to use her and if she wants to stay out of the deepest, darkest, dirtiest hole he can find she is going to perform.

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The alarm woke her with a start. Out of habit, her arm jerked up, as though to silence it, but of course, it moved nowhere. She sat up, and out of long practice leaned in and jabbed her chin against the large round button on top of the clock to silence it, then she lay back with a sigh, twisting and yawning.
Her nose itched, but scratching it wasn’t immediately possible. Her hands were cuffed together behind her back, just as her ankles were cuffed together at the foot of the bed. Other than that she was naked. But the room was warm and she was quite comfortable. She lay on her arms, her mind drifting lazily for ten minutes until the clock went off a second time. Again she tapped it shut, then fell back.
She really did need to get up. She left herself little extra time on waking for lounging around.

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Lots of energy and lots of pain games. Catherine dives recklessly into her headspace, dropping headlong into the eye of a storm. Pd manhandles her. He attaches the hoist to the rope that ties her wrists to her neck and punches her in the stomach. He kicks her. He pummels her with Mr. Pogo. Catherine eats it up.

A metal gag goes deep into the back of Catherine's mouth, pressing down the tongue. Drool runs everywhere. PD hoists her onto her toes with the gag. He's relentless, locking her head and wrists in stocks. A cane, singletail, a pussy whip. As time goes on, there isn't much PD doesn't hurt her with. He clamps her labia to Mr. Pogo then gets her off. But Catherine forgot to ask permission.

Her ass hangs down through a hole. She's hooded and locked in place. She's caned, smothered, and caned again as wire hooks twist her face into a freaky clownish grin. Mr. Pogo desecrates her ass, held in place by labia clamps again. She's vibrated as he canes her labia. She comes big. Then she's upside down with her ass up in the air. He canes her with a vengeance. I'm sorry, she screams over and over. I'm sorry, sorry, sorry.

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She stretched as she could, arching her back, rolling her head a little. Finally she drew her legs up and back, drawing her knees into her chest. She rocked her weight back onto her shoulders, and then drew her wrists down, grunting a little with exertion as she drew them down under her buttocks, then pulled them over her legs.
She sat up now and swung her cuffed legs over the side of the bed. The keys to the handcuffs were on the night table, and she reached for them, fit them into the lock and set herself free. She unlocked her ankle cuffs then got to her feet. She drew back the heavy curtains and raised the blind. It was still daylight, but the sun was low in the sky. She pulled open her drawer and drew on a pair of cotton, string bikini panties, then a tight athletic bra. A pair of simple, gray cotton shorts followed, then a gray tank top with a large red image of the roadrunner on its chest.



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