Monday, July 17, 2017

Maternity Fuck Meat

Stephanie lay in the crate, unable to move.

Her naked body was entirely encased in a spray foam that had hardened and made it impossible to move even a little. Only her face was exposed.

Breathing was an issue; she could not move her chest or stomach enough to get a good breath, so she took many quick, shallow breaths.

Her crate was rolled to the shipping dock, where it remained for an hour. Stephanie was covered with a lid, nailed down. Darkness descended. She could not hear, see, or feel. Panic set in, but it didn't matter... she couldn't move, run, struggle. It was in her mind, she moaned and cried, but she was locked inside a soundproofed crate. Her body sweated and shook, all that it could do in the complete mummification.

The crate was tilted on end... the wrong end. Stephanie found herself upside down, rolling into a truck. She could barely hear the sounds, but she could tell. The crate suddenly slammed down on its side. Bumps and crashes indicated other crates were added.

Stephanie tried to sleep. The crate rocked slightly as the truck moved, then stopped. Then it was lifted up and placed somewhere else. Then there were strange sensations... she was aboard an aircraft. The air was thin, she needed to breathe deeper but she couldn't. She was suffocating, slowly... so very slowly.... and unable to move.  Trapped.

It was probably about two hours later that the plane landed and Stephanie felt her crate being rolled out and stacked with other crates on a truck.  She had peed herself while in the aircraft, not even realizing it. But she could smell it now.

Movement stopped. There was no change. The crate remained still for... hours? Days? Stephanie was going to go crazy trapped in the crate. She tried to move and had succeeded in creating an extra few millimeters of space around her hands and arms by crushing the foam. She started seeing things; flashes of light. Her mother, long forgotten, came and asked what she was doing. Her old boss from the company walked by, stopped, and asked why she hadn't returned from Malsi and why she was naked. He then produced an extremely large cock and demanded she suck him off... she did.

And then she was moving again.

Twenty four hours after being packed in her crate the lid came off and someone started cutting into the foam with a knife, slicing away packing material and finally washing away the remnants until Stephanie was free to move and get up.

It was such a relief she cried, tears streaming quietly down her face as she was able to move her arms and legs and take a deep breath.

There were other crates surrounding her, all in various stages of being unpacked. Several other girls were standing to the side, waiting. Stephanie joined them.

They watched the unpacking process. One crate had been opened and the girl had been pulled out, her body unmoving and stiff. She was dead. The girl had died in transit. Stephanie watched in horror, realizing she too might have died, might have suffocated on board the airplane.

There were two lines of women. Stephanie was with a line of women who still in the early stages of pregnancy. They either did not show, or had only smaller bulges that weren't noticed.

Across the way was another group of girls. They were farther along, perhaps three months, maybe even four. They showed clearly, their stomachs bulging.

"Attention!" barked a tough looking man with short hair. The girls on both sides stood at attention, obediently waiting.

"Welcome to Maternity Center Number 28. I am the facility director."

The director walked down the line, touching and feeling the bodies of each woman, his hands probing their breasts, between their legs, between their ass cheeks, into their mouths. Stephanie felt the man's fingers inserted into mouth and got the light taste of feces from the previous girl's ass inspection.

"Be aware that your time here will last a minimum of nine months. At the end of your term some of you will be transferred to the post natal center to become cows. The rest will be returned to your household of origin, unless other arrangements have been made by your owners."

This was the first that Stephanie had heard that they might become "cows". She could only imagine what that meant, and felt a chill of fear. She had been doing well in the Jackson household, was becoming more trusted and now... the idea she would become a cow, just an animal of some sort made her shudder.

The man paced before the line of subservient women. "During your gestation period you will contribute. Do not think for a moment that you are here to experience ease and be pampered. You will work, you will be used, you will experience discipline just like any other place."

"Absolute, unquestioning, immediate obedience is required here at all times. The slightest infraction will result in discipline."

The man stopped before Stephanie and her heart leaped in fear. Too much attention was never a good thing. Instead he pointed to the cute, young brunette standing next to her. She had a young innocent look.

The director barked out, "What is your name?"

"Zoe, sir."

"Zoe you will serve as an example."

"What? I... I have not done anything!" Protested the young woman.

"Backtalk, protesting an order." The director motioned and two men came over and dragged the poor protesting girl to the floor in front of the rest of the women. The pregnant women watched as Zoe was quickly chained to a huge block of wood that must have weighed 50 pounds. Her wrists, neck and even breasts were secured to the heavy log.

"You will wear this for the first week of your stay," said the director. "All others look on her and know that she is an example of what awaits you."

Zoe was crying quietly. Her breasts clearly hurt, and arms were secured spread wide out to the sides as if crucified. She stood in the center of the floor, obediently trying to carry the heavy beam but it was clearly very difficult to manage because of its size and weight.

The two men that had secured Zoe to the beam were holding it up as Zoe stood before the rest of the women, who looked on with fear.

Suddenly the men let go of the ends of the beam.

The weight of the beam was now carried entirely by Zoe and she collapsed instantly. The beam pushed her to the floor and she went down with a loud grunt and cry as the beam landed on her shoulders and back.

The beam was laying on top of her back and neck and Zoe was motionless, stunned on the floor where she lay. The weight of the beam had hit her head and nearly knocked her unconscious.

The two guards kicked the naked body of the pregnant slave. "Get up! Lazy! Get up! Stand!"

Slowly, Zoe struggled and managed to get the beam to the side and then lifted it up, her legs shaking visibly with the effort. Not only was it too heavy for her, it was fastened in a weird, unwieldy way that made it very difficult to lift.

"Up! Everyone, follow Zoe to your new home!"

The guards whipped Zoe's ass with short canes, forcing her to lead the way down a hall. She struggled, every step painful, keeping the heavy weight on her shoulders up. Each swat from a cane brought a small sob from the poor girl as she walked.

They reached a doorway. Zoe could not fit through, the beam was too wide. This brought a volley of cane strokes, turning her ass bright red in seconds.

Screaming and crying, Zoe turned and went through the door sideways, into the sparse dormitory in which the women would be sleeping. She tripped as she passed through the door, slamming the heavy beam into a bed before she fell to the floor again.

"It looks like Zoe will be needing some extra discipline today. Take her away!"

"No, no! Please, I didn't do anything, I was doing the best I could, please don't punish me.....!!!!" Zoe's cries for mercy could be heard fading as she was dragged down the hallway outside.

The remaining women were lined up, each in front of a bed. It was a better arrangement than Stephanie had first had at the Jackson compound, where she had slept in a bare wooden cupboard. But given she was pregnant and would soon be much heavier, the bare metal beds with one inch mattresses were going to be very uncomfortable.

The pregnant slaves were standing at relaxed attention as a house mother, an evil bitch old woman, walked through and told them the routine of the facility.

"You will be assigned sleeping hours. You will have eight hours to sleep. Ten minutes to bathe in the morning, ten to eat. Five minutes for toilet. That's a total of twenty five minutes, more than enough to prepare for work.  You will have fifteen minutes to eat and toilet in the evening before bed."

"No clothing allowed. If you were allowed clothing at your home compound, tough, you are at the Maternity Center now."

Stephanie couldn't help but wonder and was afraid but raised her hand. "Excuse me... what exactly is our work?"

"For you, my dear, it will be as a fuck toy. Misfit men not allowed to breed can come to the Maternity Center and fuck a girl at any time. We serve as the source of sexual satisfaction for the dregs of the male species, those too insane, too stupid, too filthy or deformed to be allowed to actually impregnate a woman."

Stephanie gasped and stared at the woman. She was to be a fuck slave for disgusting, diseased men? She thought she had already seen the lowest depths of Malsi culture, but she had been wrong.

"First weekly inspection at 12:00, in fifteen minutes. Cooperate and we can get through this fast and you can be on your way to work."

Several men came in and started strapping the women into place at their beds. Stephanie was familiar with the practice though had not been strapped in a long time.

Each woman was laid down on their bed, and their wrists cuffed to the upper bedposts.

Cuffs were then secured to their ankles, and their ankles were lifted up and secured to the same bedposts as their wrists.

This bent the women back, exposing their lower regions quite effectively. Their asses and cunts were readily available for inspection and use.

Stephanie had spent one day in this position when she had first become a slave; random men had come in and deposited sperm into her cunt during this time. It was surprising she had not gotten pregnant then considering the amount of sperm that had been deposited inside her in a very short period.

The women all lay on their back in the exposed position, waiting. In a few minutes a doctor came in and efficiently ran down the row of tied and exposed women, checking vitals, examining their cunts and uterus, and in general doing a rather quick and inadequate pre-natal exam.

In the distance there came the sound of sobs, with an occasional scream. Zoe was being tortured in a room not too far away. Stephanie was used to women being tortured and didn't pay a lot of attention to it. She would probably end up screaming in the same room, not to long from now. It was impossible for a woman to escape punishments in Malsi.

Exam time was over, but the girls were not released. They simply lay on their backs, legs up, exposed and waiting. There was a little chatter between them, talking between the girls. Stephanie did not join in. She did not want to get into trouble her first day and end up screaming down the hall Zoe. She'd postpone that occurrence as long as she could.

Finally... after nearly an hour, Stephanie was released and taken to another room.

"Hands and knees. On the mat there," said the female house mother ordered. Obediently, Stephanie and several other girls went on hands and knees on the mat.

It wasn't long before several men came into the room. It was immediately clear that they were not the same as the men Stephanie had served at her home compound. These men were older, or younger, and smelled. One of them kept making strange noises with his mouth and throat, as if he had a nasal condition that required him to honk. Another was giggling, drool descending from the corner of his lips and a hand inside his pants, moving quickly.

These men were insane or retarded.

The men walked down the row of pregnant girls, snorting and making noises. One of the men leaned down and grabbed each girl's breasts, squeezing hard. The girls did their best to take the abuse silently, but one of them let out a squeal when the man grabbed and squeezed her breast.

One older and rather ugly man stopped behind Stephanie and grunted. He grabbed her hair and looked at her face. "You're pretty..." he slurred. "I like you..."

Stephanie knew she was pretty. She had been a beautiful woman before coming to Malsi, and that had not changed.

The man pulled down his trousers, exposing himself to Stephanie. Disgusted by an acrid odor, like something burned and dead at the same time, Stephanie looked away from the man's erect penis.

Next to her another man was stripping down and grabbing the ass of the girl in front of him.

The man that had chosen Stephanie grunted and Stephanie obediently spread her legs. The man's cock slipped in from behind and he let out a long moan.

To Stephanie, this was a disgusting, humiliating experience. She was not being fucked by the young, handsome men of the Jackson household, or their guests. She was being fucked by some random male that was probably a homeless bum. Back at her home, Stephanie would have not only accepted the cock, but reacted with pleasure, thrusting and moaning, and doing her best to participate in the experience.

Here, the girls simply took the men inside and let them relieve themselves using the girl's cunts

When one set of men was done, the girls were told to clean themselves by wiping between their legs thoroughly, and then another set of decrepit ugly old slimy men would be admitted to the room.

Man after man after man entered the room. Some of them fought over Stephanie, as she was the best looking of the bunch. Eventually they all got a chance to penetrate Stephanie and leave their juicy wad inside her cunt... or her ass as some men preferred. She dripped, white and clear fluid oozing out and gathering in a puddle below her, in spite of her attempts to clean up after each man.

Stephanie's cunt was becoming sore from the constant friction of men fucking her. The semen that gathered in her vagina helped some, but the constant rubbing was causing her to whimper in pain when the last man was trying to cum inside her. He was having some trouble, taking a lot longer than usual and just kept pumping... and pumping... grunting and sweating and pumping.

He finally gave up and slapped Stephanie, blaming her cunt for not getting him off. Stephanie simply apologized. "I am sorry if my pussy is not acceptable to you, sir."

After several hours Stephanie and the rest of the girls in her group were told get up and follow the house mother back to their dorm. It was time for food and sleep.

As they walked back to the dorms they passed a small room. Moans and soft cries were coming from it, and Stephanie paused for a brief moment to see what was inside.

Two girls were inside. One of them showed quite clearly, was probably seven months pregnant. The other was Zoe, not visibly showing.

Both were hanging from crosses, arms outstretched, ankles tied up under them, knees bent. They were writhing, their bodies trying to find a comfortable position that wasn't going to be found.

Zoe was sobbing, crying as she hung from the cross.

Stephanie shuddered. Discipline here at the Maternity Center was as bad or worse than at the Jackson compound. Zoe had done nothing, but was simply being made an example of. How long would she be left up there, hanging from the cross? Was she being given food and water?

At the dorm room, the women were given food, which they ate eagerly as they had not eaten since the morning. It was typical Malsi slave food, a mush made from the leftovers and cast-offs of the male dinners elsewhere.

At least it wasn't moldy or rotten.

Ten minutes to eat, then five minutes for toilet privileges. Stephanie was bursting and almost exploded when she finally managed to get onto the toilet.

Then came sleep time. Each of the pregnant women went to a metal bed, lay down and began to sleep. They were all exhausted from fucking constantly for the entire day.

Stephanie fell asleep and dreamed of her apartment in the west. She had all but forgotten her old life, but it did return in dreams at times. It was bittersweet to remember her old life. Better to simply accept and live in the new environment as a slave.

The next day Stephanie woke to the sound of the woman next to her vomiting. Morning sickness. All the girls here were pregnant and had varying degrees of nausea, especially in the morning. Stephanie was nauseous at times and had thought it was the disgusting men she had been taking inside her, but now realized she was also sick because of the pregnancy.

She managed to make it to the toilet during her toilet time before throwing up herself. When she finished eating, throwing up, and urinating, she joined the group of women who were taken to a different room where they were prepared for the day's sex work in a different manner.

Each girl was forced to lay down on a small wooden table, barely wide enough to support their hips. Their wrists were tied below them, keeping their arms out of the way.

Legs were then lifted up, and extended over the shoulder and fastened to brackets and chains over their heads. With legs spread wide this positioned allowed complete, unfettered access for anyone to reach the girl's cunts and asshole.

It turned out this position was necessary for the most defective of men-- the ones that had limited control over their bodies. They needed complete, easy entry.

The first man to do Stephanie that day was severely mentally defective. He stumbled along, unable to talk or make words. A minder assisted him by locating a girl and helping him remove his pants.

Upon seeing Stephanie laying before him, legs up and spread, cunt exposed, his eyes got wide and he grinned a child-like grin. Stephanie shuddered just looking at him, but there was nothing she could do. She was tied in place and this barely functional male was going to fuck her.

He did too. Once he was placed in front of Stephanie he had no trouble knowing what to do. He dropped his pants and produced a huge cock that stood straight out. It plunged into Stephanie and rammed home so hard it hurt. Stephanie cried, feeling the pain of soreness from the day before, but also feeling stretched and impaled by this mental retardate.

When he came, the man made a grunting, gasping noise and drool poured from his nose and mouth, spraying over Stephanie's stomach. He pulled out of her and tried to stick himself back in, but couldn't because he was getting soft. He howled in dismay and tried again, Stephanie unable to do anything to help or distract him. She was simply a piece of meat, positioned and ready should he be able to find his way.

A minder came and guided the man away.

And so it went for days on end. Each day Stephanie and the other girls in her dormitory were taken to be fuck-meat for the dregs of male Malsi society, and each night they were returned to eat and sleep before doing it again.

Some days the girls were free to fuck the men who came in any position; other days they were tied into a position to assist access for the severely disabled.

Once a week, at the end of her fuck shift, Stephanie received a pussy whipping. Apparently, it was thought that the girls needed it to remind them of their place, and that much, much worse waited them if they misbehaved in any way. It was a common practice and Stephanie accepted it as normal. Punishment for no discernible reason was routine and she had endured it many times.

It was only the slow growth of the baby inside Stephanie's stomach that reminded her that this was temporary. That she would, eventually, give birth. She would have a child, and then this would all be over.

Thursday, June 8, 2017

Women as Art

The sales call completed, the contract signed, Mr. Assid extended an offer to me.

"Your company is only the second to establish regular import/export with the Malsi nation. Let us hope it heralds further cooperation and profitable ventures for us all. Come over and have dinner at my home. We should toast to a long and profitable relationship between our companies. "

I gladly agreed. The Malsi culture was in some ways very similar to the western culture I represented, but in some ways was very different. Their food was exotic, their art bizarre and risque, but the most clear difference was the way they treated women.

Women were slaves. Owned, bred, used by the men at will, in any way desired. They had no rights, not even a right to live. Whatever a woman had in Malsi, it was through the kindness and generosity of a man-- their owner.

I had heard rumors from others that had preceded me that sexual favors were common. Offering a woman for sexual intercourse to seal a business deal was expected. Another sales person had related the tale of a spontaneous orgy that had broken out in a conference room after the conclusion of a deal.

A woman who had been part of the Malsi sales team had gotten on her knees and started sucking the cock of the visiting sales person. He was fortunate to have a female sales counterpart, who ended up accepting the Malsi tradition and hiked her skirt, spreading her legs. (When I asked about who this female sales person was, and where she was, he was evasive. I wanted to meet her, but no dice.)

Unfortunately, I had no female with me that I could offer and as a result Mr. Assid did not offer any of his women for my use. My hopes that an offer might be forthcoming were rekindled when he invited me to his home.

Entering Mr. Assid's home I was immediately greeted by some of the rather unusual and provocative art that typified Malsi culture. In the large entryway to his mansion stood several beautifully done, well proportioned statues of nude women.

There had been a statue of a nude woman outside, but it was rough looking, a sort of plaster or concrete with a very rough surface. It was attractive, but couldn't compare with the beauty of this statue in the entryway.

The statue appeared to have been carved of marble, or some other smooth stone, and polished to a perfect sheen. The accuracy of the features, proportions, and the details of the woman were impressive.

The figure was of a lean, well proportioned woman holding a vase. Her legs were slightly parted to show the detail of the vulva and vaginal lips. Her breasts were small but well proportioned to the lean body. All in all it was a very pleasing peace of erotic art.

The statue struck me as being particularly sensual, both in an artistic way and in a very raw, sexual way. The detail and beauty of the woman who modeled for the statue was remarkable, and the rendering amazingly accurate.

Moving inside we were greeted by several other men of the Assid household. Malsi culture called for families to establish large compounds with family and extended family all working and living together to consolidate their fortunes. Some of these compounds, such as the one of Mr. Assid, were extensive and reminded one of an emperor's palace.

This also meant that each family compound contained a complete stable of female slaves, serving all aspects of the male household.

I had seen some evidence of the slave status of women as I had traveled in the city. A number of women, such as the receptionist at the Assid office complex and the female sales person that assisted in the negotiations, wore slave collars. On the streets, some women were seen only partially clothed and I even observed a few that were in chains. That took a bit of getting used to, but not a lot.

There were about six men sitting down to dinner, along with their "wives". Wives in Malsi are still owned property, they have just advanced to the point of being the preferred woman for a specific man. They are accorded better privileges than the lower classes of women.

At the dinner table I was confronted by just how deep the status of women as slaves went. We all sat down around a long traditional wood dining table. In the middle lay a naked woman, tied in a hogtie position. The ropes were done expertly, preventing any significant movement. The woman was gorgeous, with a lean body, good breasts that were pressed against the table, and a pleasing face that was also pressed against the table.

"That's an interesting... centerpiece," I  mentioned. "She is... decoration? Right?"

A woman sitting next to me laughed lightly. She identified herself as Mrs. Assid. "Yes, of course. Stephanie here is decoration. She was specifically selected for this dinner because she is from your country."

I stared at the woman who was laying on her stomach in the middle of the table. She did have the features and coloring of a woman from the west. She didn't appear to be from Malsi. I was a bit shocked. She was laying on the table, bound, accepting and obedient just like any Malsi woman.

"What... what do you mean? From..."

"Oh, don't worry. She was sold here some time back as a slave. Her owner sold her to a business partner of Mr. Assid."

I wondered if I should mention that it wasn't possible for a woman from the west to be sold, but then... there she was. I wasn't going to cause waves to our newly inked deal by questioning the status of a woman in Malsi. It wasn't worth it. When in Malsi...

"Oh... I see..." I said carefully.

"Ah. I see what you were thinking. No, no. She is not one of the dinner courses. Though you have heard correctly that in Malsi we will sometimes consume women. But it is not often, and usually part of a ritual. This meat is almost always from a criminal of some sort."

The term almost always caught my attention but I said nothing.

The dinner began and was delightful. Roast pork tenderloins, an interesting mix if exotic vegetables, and some truly good wine. The Malsi have a strong tradition of good wine and strong seasonings.

During the dinner the woman on the table who had been identified as Stephanie was fed scraps. It seemed to be a sort of cute pastime, rather like feeding the begging family dog under the table. I kept glancing at her, partly because she was gorgeous and had a gorgeous body, but also because she was, very clearly, western and not Malsi. And yet she seemed to have adapted and become a Malsi slave woman.

When dinner was over, Stephanie was untied and bent over the table. This action was apparently expected, for the woman moved from the table top to leaning over its edge without instructions. She simply slid over and put her feet on the ground, bent at the waist.

Once she had spread her legs, the gentleman next to me decided he would partake of the lovely woman.

"Is this... common? That there be a centerpiece of... I mean, that a woman would be.."

Mrs. Assid laughed a little and nodded. "Yes of course, at least at formal dinners such as this when there is a guest. Providing a little art and entertainment is all part of having a fine meal, don't you think?"

As she spoke, the woman bending over the table was grunting louder as the man behind her pushed and moaned his way to an orgasm. She seemed to be enjoying the fucking as much as the man. When he was done, he pulled up his pants and returned to his seat, smacking the woman's ass as he left. The woman didn't change position, she simply lay on the table bent over, ready for the next man.

I wanted to try her out, but was embarrassingly unfamiliar with Malsi protocol in such matters, so I waited.

To my surprise, Mr. Assid intervened and said, "Vera, would you please offer yourself to our guest?"

Mrs. Assid immediately got down on her knees and said, looking up at me, "May I service you, sir?"

I nodded, a little surprised and unable to find words. I unzipped my pants. Taking the cue, Mrs. Assid, a very lovely woman, pulled out my cock. It was already quite hard and sprang out, almost whacking my host's wife on her cheek.

The rest of the people at the dinner party continued their conversation, and another man decided to fuck Stephanie and slipped behind her as Mrs. Assid proceeded to suck my cock, doing the most delicate, expert job of it. Her lips found the head of my shaft on each stroke, which was then brought deep inside her so that her throat enveloped my shaft and the head. Her tongue slid velvety smooth across the underside of my member, and it wasn't long before I was moaning, closing my eyes, concentrating on a mounting orgasm.

I tried to pull out at the last moment, though I had not thought this part through. I would have ended up spurting white semen all over Mrs. Assid's beautiful black dinner dress. But Mrs. Assid grabbed my ass and made sure I was buried deep in her throat when I came, grunting louder than I had intended.

When I was done, Mrs. Assid slid my shaft out slowly, making sure her lips caught every last drop of my ejaculate, leaving me clean as could be. She dabbled the corners of her mouth, grinned up at me and I grinned back.

"Thank you my dear," I said seriously.

"Of course, sir. It was, quite literally, my pleasure." She smiled as she returned to her seat.

As the dinner came to a close I sat relaxed and happy.  Mr. Assid sat down next to me, and asked, "How do you enjoy the Malsi view of using women as art? Have you enjoyed my little collection? I am quite proud of it."

"Oh, it is quite different than where I live, as you know. I find it... gratifying. Pleasing, really." I motioned to the girl who had been bent over the table and was just now cleaning up the copious amount of jizz that was dribbling down her leg. She must have taken all five of the men at the table. "I wish such pleasurable traditions could be practiced at home."

"Oh, no, no sir," Assid said. "That's entertainment, not art. No, I mean the art. Come, let's go look."

He rose, and I rose with him, following him out into the hallway. "Here is the first example," he said, stopping before a gorgeous full size statue of a woman squatting. It was sitting on a pedestal and looked to be made of steel except the surface was far too smooth and the molding too precise.

The artist had managed to capture the exact likeness of a woman to such a degree that I almost expected her to move.

"Oh, this is truly a fantastic statue," I said. "Such realism! I am not sure we have anything so realistic and beautiful in my country."

Assid looked a little confused and then said, "Well, our technique is certainly well developed. We are especially proud of the process we use here, in the Assid compound."

He touched the silver statue lovingly, sliding his hand down the back to the buttocks. "This was Vera's sister."

"Vera... your wife's sister. She makes a beautiful model."

Assid looked puzzled again and then suddenly a look of understanding flooded his face. "Oh. I see. You don't understand, not fully. Vera's sister did not model for this. This *is* Vera's sister."

I was quite confused as to what he was getting at until suddenly I looked at the object before me and saw it in a different perspective, and understood. The perfect proportions; the tiny defects that only occur in a real human body; the incredible detail everywhere.

This was literally a woman, somehow encased in a metallic covering, changed or converted into a statue.

"Oh..." I said, taking a step back. I wasn't sure whether to be horrified or amazed. Or both.

"Then... the statues... as we came in. The one outside, the one just inside the front entrance..."

"Well, yes. More or less. The one outside was an early attempt using different materials and is rougher." He guided me down the hall to the door and outside. There was a beautiful plaster or concrete statue of a woman. Not nearly as perfect as the silver one in the hall, but still...

"The statue out front used a plaster casing. The woman was actually dead when she was encased. Not so this one. This is made using a special material of crushed marble and quartzite, and sprayed on the living core. The result is a much more detailed preservation."

I staggered slightly, realizing that there was a body inside this plaster statue, that inside was the body of a woman that had given her life to become a permanent piece of art.

That said... it was an absolutely beautiful piece, and I said so.

"Thank you sir. You may remember the statue in the lobby of our business building. It is one of our finer pieces. A woman named Jana. She was placed there about six months ago."

I did remember. The image of her golden, perfect body had occupied my attention briefly as I waited for our meeting. It was gorgeous, perfect.

My assumption was that it was a statue, symbolizing Malsi's dichotomous obsession with women as objects and their essential worship of the feminine form, even though it was enveloped in a slave culture.

I was right in a way, but was not clear at just how deeply Malsi had reduced women to the level of objects. To the point where they were actually turning women into objects.

"Yes, Jana was the first of the line where we perfected the metallic coating. We now supply a variety of companies with such art. It's turning into a rather nice side business for the Assid family. Other companies do this as well, of course. It is an ancient art. But not using modern materials in the way that we have."

I returned to the statue of Vera's sister--- or I modified my thinking. To Vera's sister, encased in metal. Examining it carefully I saw that every detail was present. The covering was perfect.

"The coating, it must be very thin. How can this be, to create a hard metallic shell and yet conform to the body... um, underneath... so perfectly?"

"Yes, that's the challenge," Assid said. "It is what the Assid companies do best, you see. New construction materials, chemistry and the like. This is in essence what you are here contracting for. Our special expertise in thin but durable materials. Come and I will show you."

Assid led me downstairs to an underground basement. Apparently the entire compound was a warren of tunnels under the ground.

Moving down the concrete hallway he stopped and unlocked a door, entering and leading me into a workshop of sorts. Work benches were scattered around with cans and jars and mechanical devices. The entire room smelled heavily of chemicals, an usual tangy but slightly sweet smell undercut by a metallic scent.

In the center of the room were two women. Each only partially covered with a metallic coating, they stood together with hands touching each other, faces together, lips nearly touching in a kiss. The form of the statue was beautiful, presenting two women lovers in an embrace that still exposed their bodies fully.

One woman was silver, the other gold.

It was clear neither woman could move. Their bodies had been covered with the metallic coating all the way up to their necks and hair. Only their faces remained uncovered. Their expressions were pained, stressed, but they were silent.

"This is a work in progress," Assid said. "Our finest work to date, involving two women in an interactive pose, as you see."

"They... they... they are still... alive..." I said, staring.

"Oh yes. Yes, they must be kept alive until the metal coating is completely hardened and then their faces are covered. They suffocate soon after that, and the artwork is complete."

I stared at the nearly finished artwork in horror and fascination. On the other hand, I had to admit it was probably one of the most erotic, beautiful statues I had ever laid eyes on.

"Elam here is about to begin the final process. Would you like to watch?" Assid suggested.

A workman, covered with silver and gold stains over his clothes, was approaching the almost completed statue. The two women were clearly unable to move, their breathing was labored and one of them was moaning slightly.

I cringed but could not take my eyes off them.

The workman came up to the golden one, lifted a large tub over her head and poured. A soft golden liquid poured out and down, covering the girl's face quickly. She opened her mouth, attempting to continue breathing.

As the gold covered her face, the woman's breathing became shorter and more labored. Her nose was covered and sealed. The gold liquid was entering her mouth, coating the inside. The girl's lips moved slightly, struggling against the rapidly drying covering.

The workman took a hose with a nozzle at the end, and pressed a button on the nozzle. A blast of air came out, which the workman used to smooth and even the gold sealant as it covered the girl's face. At one point he blew air inside the girl's mouth, smoothing and sealing the insides of the mouth.

By then of course the girl had stopped breathing. If she wasn't dead, she would be very soon.

Moments later the gold statue stood finished. The silver girl remained, face exposed and very close to the gold covered face next to her. She continued breathing, slowly and with difficulty. A tear trickled down one cheek.

I think I was a bit green after seeing a woman actually encased in a liquid metal and killed. I backed out of the room, trying to get fresh air.

"Yes, the chemicals in there can get to one. The workers are only allowed to stay in a workroom for an hour at a time."

The seriousness of what these people did in Malsi was overwhelming. I could not imagine being a woman who was chosen, and then willingly be covered with solid metal until it filled my mouth, suffocating me.

At the same time, what I had seen and what Assid was telling me had given me an erection. A nice, hard cock, that I was having a hard time hiding.

Leaning over to me as if in confidence, Assid said, "I see you are fascinated by this, and I want to show you something. It is new, something we are experimenting with, but I think may work. Eventually the materials may be something our companies may trade in, make a lot of money in. But for now... the art is worth it.

I shuddered to think what he might mean, but followed him down the hall to another room that was double locked. He scanned a hand print and then used a key to open the door.

Inside was a work area like the last one, except the equipment seemed more modern, more technical, and the smell was different. Not as pungent or offensive though there was a slight odor of ammonia.

To the side was a a statue of a woman. At least, that's what I thought but immediately questioned my assumption. I had learned.

Assid took me over to the statue. It looked like it might have been a real woman. The detail was there, it even had a somewhat more realistic color, more like actual skin. Some of the color detail of the body was there.

But in other ways it wasn't as perfect as the metallic statues I had seen earlier. It's coloring was off, there was a sense of decay and disintegration about it even though it appeared to be smooth and shiny.

"This was one of our earlier attempts. Racine here was encapsulated three weeks ago. She died a day later."

I looked at the statue more clearly and suddenly jerked back. The covering, the coating... it was clear. I was actually seeing the flesh of the dead woman encased in some sort of clear plastic coating.

"It didn't work. The seal wasn't good enough, the body started to deteriorate, and while the woman lived for an entire day in the encasement, it wasn't enough. It's still a beautiful work but... not what we are looking for."

This woman had died, mummified in the plastic casing, suffering for an entire day.

"This... this is where we are now. This is Bette. She's been encased for three days."

Assid flipped on a light which shown down on another statue, a woman that appeared perfect in almost every way. Flesh tone was there, hair was perfect, the shape and beauty of the woman was amazing.

In fact, it looked very much like a naked woman sitting absolutely still, except her body was incredibly smooth and shiny.

I examined the body, understanding that a woman's perfect body was encased underneath a layer of acrylic. It really was beautiful, though I was certain it would be a matter of a short while before it looked decayed like the statue containing Racine that stood nearby.

"May I?" I reached one hand out tentatively.

"Oh certainly. The Plasticine is completely hardened now."

My finger tips ran along the woman's breasts, feeling the curves of her body, running down across her stomach and to her groin. There appeared to be tiny pockets of air in some spots, where the plastic coating had not clung exactly to the flesh. These were mostly at joints and bends. Soft curves were always perfectly covered by the plastic.

I walked around the statue, marveling at the technique and skill that it took to create something like this. My horror with the situation was beginning to fade, I am embarrassed to say. The beauty of the encased female body was just too perfect. My cock throbbed at being so close to it.

I came to the face, which was an absolute marvel. The shiny surface covered the face perfectly, the skin color underneath was perfect, the eyes were open and looking at me (so it appeared), and the slightly open mouth showed Plasticine covered teeth.  The woman's beauty was perfectly preserved in a most incredible manner.

As I looked closely at the face I received a sudden shock that nearly made me piss my pants. The woman's eyes moved. They followed me as I moved around her. I screamed and hopped back.

"She... she moved!!!"

"Well, yes. She is still alive. She's been encased for three days, and is still alive. That's the whole point! The only way of creating the perfect statue, the statue that has the perfect aura of the living, is to have an actual living statue!" Assid announced this with pride and triumph.

I could see now that the small gaps between the shiny plastic coating and the flesh were used by the woman to take shallow breaths. The plastic around her mouth and nose was pierced with tiny holes, allowing for some limited air flow. The woman was alive, but completely mummified in clear plastic.

"Oh... oh my god... " I couldn't help but swearing in shock and dismay. "How can she breathe? How can she have food, and water?"

"Look carefully," Assid said, pointing to the mouth.

There, I saw that the lips were covered with plastic but there was a tiny gap between that. What I thought had led to a plasticized inner mouth was in reality simply an opening. Listening carefully I heard the air flowing back and forth through this small opening, as she breathed.

"I... I... so you feed her? Give her water?"

"Most certainly. She is a living creature, entombed completely in plastic for our enjoyment. Movement of about two or three millimeters is possible, but nothing more." Assid picked up a small water bottle with a straw like protrusion and raised it to the woman's lips, upside down. Water flowed down into the straw and into the small opening, where it disappeared.

A significant amount of excess water collected around the plastic lips, and dribbled down. Assid wiped it away after a moment.

Bette had just had a drink of water.

"But how, I mean, what about body functions?"

"Observe. See the area in the groin; there are dozens of small holes. Urine passes out of the plastic casing there. Come around back."

We walked around to the back of the woman. Embedded in the plastic casing was a small tube that ran into the woman statue's buttocks.

"We flush her once a day. Water is pumped in through this tube, and the sewage result is pumped out. There isn't much, she is kept on a strict liquid diet, so this small tube is sufficient to keep her bowels clear."

My hand went out, almost involuntarily, and ran across the woman's perfectly encased back and shoulders. The process and result was amazing. I perfectly preserved woman, alive, encased and mummified. My hand continued stroking around to the living statue's breasts, stomach and then down to her pussy and thighs.

"Come, look at our other current example." Assid drew me over to a dark corner of the workshop. When the light came on, there stood another perfectly encased woman.

This one was standing, rather than sitting.

"Shari here has been encased for two weeks. She is our longest living example, so far."

I could not imagine the psychological agony of being completely mummified, unable to move more than a couple of millimeters. Such beauty. Such agony. Together, encased and presented for the pleasure of others.

I wondered what thoughts were going through the poor woman's head as I observed her and touched her plastic shell.

"Don't the women... well, go insane inside? Unable to move?"

"I don't know," said Assid, a little puzzled. "Does it matter?"

I said nothing, but asked. "How long will they survive? It can't be indefinitely, surely eventually muscles will atrophy, there must be other medical complications?"

Assid nodded. "Yes. But think of long term coma patients. They are fed through a tube, ventilated, and they survive for years. It is true the body will lose muscle tone, and that will be a problem. We expect that Bette and Shari will last in the range of several months before we will throw them out."

Assid moved closer as if in confidence. "But, we are working on a method to keep muscle tone. It will take some time to finalize, but once we are done we may be able to keep a living statue alive for years, even decades."

My hand went up to touch Shari's face. Her eyes were open and followed me. She was obviously completely aware of our presence, but showed little emotion.

I wondered if the plastic coating would allow for facial expression. I was pretty sure there could be at least some movement underneath, but Shari didn't really express anything. Her face was dead, emotionless.

I wondered if perhaps her mind was already gone.

"How on earth could you keep muscle tone on a mummified woman?" I asked.

"I can't tell you everything, but it involved surgically embedding some electrodes deep into the muscles before mummification. We can then invoke muscle spasms, like cramps, as will, and that will keep many of the muscles well exercised."

"Cramps... won't that hurt?"

"I suppose it would. Probably agonizing." Assid shrugged and turned to go. "That's about all we can show you this evening."

We went upstairs and Mr. Assid showed me to my room. "I know you have to fly back tomorrow, so we have provided excellent accommodations for you, with a few amenities that we hope will help you get a good night's sleep."

Entering the bedroom I discovered the western slave, Stephanie, on my bed. She was tied spread-eagle and blindfolded.

Like most women in a Malsi household, she was naked.

"Enjoy," Assid said and closed the door behind him.

I undressed quickly, getting completely naked, and then went to the bed. I lay on top of the beautiful woman whose legs were spread for me, and let my cock slip into her.

She moaned and arched her back, and I shoved in, pulled out, shoved in, and fucked the hell out of her.

I asked her no questions after fucking her, I simply untied her and we slept together, arms and legs intertwined, a brief liaison between two people of the same country.

When I flew back I thought that I sincerely hoped that Stephanie would never fall victim to the Assid family's artistic side. I liked her.

Thursday, April 27, 2017

CSJC: On Display

In time the Social Justice Movement came to mold and redefine the justice system. A new phenomena rose and was tried in some of the larger cities-- The Corporal Social Justice Center. In these centers the accused were tortured publicly, and in many cases the public was invited to participate in the punishment as part of the public shaming ritual of the social justice principles. As part of the Social Justice code, conviction of a crime was not required for punishment to be assigned; accusation was enough.

Melanie stared at the community college social justice tribunal in disbelief.

"I never called her a gorilla. I called her a guerrilla. As in the military insurgency soldier. It had nothing to do with her being black!" complained Melanie.

"I am not sure what you mean; a gorilla is a gorilla," said the tribunal prosecutor. There was no defense representative, of course. "Plus, you said this within her 25 foot safe speech zone."

"It was meant as a compliment, and had nothing to do with her being black, it was because she looked good in her camo pants and army green T A guerrilla!"

"What you actually said is of no importance. What is of importance is Miss Jackson's feelings, and she felt severely offended by your comment. Therefore you are guilty of offensive and insensitive communications within a protected person's safe speech zone."

The president of the tribunal stamped a piece of paper. "That's enough. Melanie Poulos, you are hereby accused and therefore convicted of offensive and aggressive behavior toward protected classes of individuals with negative comments and criticism; aggravated by safe space violation; aggravated by your white privilege. You are assigned to eight hours class three punishment at the CSJC, to be served..."

The 19 year old tribunal president consulted a schedule. "To be served next Wednesday at 8:00AM. Secretary, see to it that Melanie's punishment is publicized in the usual locations throughout campus."

"But... I didn't say anything wrong!" protested Melanie.

The tribunal president made a note. "Also aggravated by lack of contrition; special circumstances added to punishment bumped to class four punishment. May you find peace in your suffering."

And that was that.

Melanie had never been to the CSJC before. Many of her friends had gone, just to see the men and women who were being publicly tortured and humiliated. Some felt it was their civic duty; others simply went because it fed some sexual lust or kinky desire. So she had heard of some of the horrors, the humiliation and pain people were put through for breaking social decency standards in the modern word.

It was a large building just outside of campus. It stood three stories tall, and included inside and outside chambers, viewing areas, administration offices, research centers, and the like. Melanie went to the main entrance on Saturday, several days before her own scheduled punishment. She wanted to know what she was in for.

She signed in at the front desk and surveyed the schedule of punishments. There was even a public execution scheduled for 10:00 in the morning... she didn't want to see that. She examined the boards and determined which poor people were receiving a class four punishment, the same as she had been sentenced to.

Following the signs she passed by a cluster of giggling women in the hall. She overheard a bit of their conversation. "But he had an erection! I wouldn't think that was possible, with that thing rammed up his ass... " "Oh, but what about the redhead. She seemed like she was having a nervous breakdown and I can't believe those spikes hurt much at all. It had to just be the humiliating position she was in."

Melanie passed a girl that stood crying in the hall. "What's the matter?" She said comfortingly.

"My mom is in there..." she motioned to a closed door. "I... I... I came to support her but it is just too much..."

Melanie avoided a lone man walking down another hall with his zipper down and a stain on the front of his pants. She didn't want to know.

Finally arriving, she slowly opened a door and entered the viewing room she was looking for.

The room had three rows of seats elevated several feet high. At the front was a standing viewing area, for those that wanted to get close. There were about ten people in the room, all looking intently at what was happening in the punishment area, just beyond a railing.

And there it was. Three women, being punished.

They were naked. Not a stitch of clothing on them. All seemed relatively fit, though having their bodies stretched out probably made them look thinner than they actually were.

And stretched they were. All three hung by their wrists from the ceiling, secured by cuffs that were locked tightly. It was clear by their red and purple hands that the cuffs were quite tight and the women were in no danger of coming loose or wriggling free.

Their arms were stretched out at a 90 degree angle, in a wide V shape above their heads. The muscles and tendons in their arms stood out, partly as they strained to move, and partly because of the stretching force on their arms, pulling them down.

The women's legs were also tied apart, separated and spread at a 90 degree angle like their arms above them. It was a classic spread-eagle.

This position allowed the audience to clearly see the victim's inner thighs and sexual organs.

Melanie sat down in shock, the sight of seeing actual people before her, just a few feet away, pulled and stretched and hung like that... stark naked...

Melanie had never been naked in public before, and had never seen anyone else naked in public. She avoided the girl's showers, and while she allowed her boyfriend to see her naked, she usually tried to cover herself by sheets or blankets or a towel...

These poor women were being stretched wide in total nudity, just so everyone could see every aspect of their nakedness. A nakedness that also belied their suffering.

And these women were suffering. You could tell that just by listening. They were all panting to some degree, making quick gasps and breaths. Hanging like that must make it hard to breathe, Melanie thought.

The women were also moaning at times. On girl threw her head back so that she looked up at the ceiling from between her outstretched arms and let out a low, guttural moan that almost became a low scream.

Melanie stared in fascination at the women who were being punished. She tried to picture herself in their place, but couldn't. There was no way she could this.

Another woman was led in, apparently just to begin her own punishment. She shuffled in with little emotion, staring at the floor. The victim refused to look at the audience with Melanie sitting, watching.

Above each of the women on display was an LED sign with the name of the girl. It also displayed a countdown timer showing how long each girl had left on her sentence. The brunette that had her head thrust back had seven hours left... the blonde with her head sagging forward, drooling a little, had five.

The new victim was placed into position, and two ropes lowered. Her wrists were fastened in front of her, the bindings tightened, then tightened again. Melanie saw her wince as the wrist bindings were tightened so they had no possibility of coming loose.

The name of the new girl suddenly displayed on the LED screen. Sally. Her name was Sally. The man dressed in black that was preparing Sally kicked her legs apart, and then fastened a wide stick between them, a leg spreader that forced the ankles apart. Melanie watched and saw as Sally's legs were forced open, exposing her vaginal lips and labia.

Sally was crying silently, tears trickling down her cheeks, but people in the audience were excited by Sally's appearance. Melanie was simply dismayed.

With a sudden jerk Sally's wrists were hoisted above her head and spread out. The ropes continued to climb, higher and higher, slowly stretching Sally as her arms rose above her. Her body elongated and then her toes left the floor, her feet swinging free.

The bar holding the legs apart was connected to the ground with a chain, though, and that stopped Sally's upward ascent. Her legs suddenly became taught, her arms began to show signs of muscles and tendons stretching and her stomach became concave as her body stretched as well.

The hoist motor whined a bit with the effort of pulling Sally up against the chain that held her down, and Sally let out a moan and cry... and the hoist stopped going. Sally was hanging there, on display, her body pulled tight. She was unable to move anything but her head. She tried anyway, jerking and flexing her body as best she could, her head flopping back and forth. It was to no avail.

Sally was in place and would go nowhere. She would simply suffer.

The sign above her lighted up with the countdown timer. 8:00 hours.

Melanie could not watch any more. As she left the observation area she passed a young man with his hands in his pants. The bulge underneath was moving up and down quickly as he stared at the brunette shuddering in her suspension.

Melanie almost vomited out in the corridor. She understood now why the young girl had been so upset about her mother being in a place like this.

On her way out she passed a room that was marked as a Class 3 punishment viewing area. It couldn't be as bad as what she had seen... and she wondered if she could get her sentence reduced. What would happen in a class 3 punishment...

She opened the door and went in.

This room had no specific viewing area with seats. In the center of the room was a single naked woman, hanging by her arms. The cute brunette seemed very unhappy but not in as much pain as the girls in the class 4 punishment.

Several observers were standing about the room on all sides of the victim. Melanie stepped in and found herself moving between the observers until she came to a spot a little behind the prisoner.

She was hanging from her arms, but not in a spread eagle position, and it didn't seem quite as tight. Her toes touched the floor giving her some support.

But, there was a wooden bar behind her shoulders, forcing them forward. Or her wrists were tied behind the bar. It looked like the bar was there to create a more uncomfortable position.

Melanie was only a couple of feet away from the poor suffering woman. She could see the muscles twitch and strain, her weight shift on her toes. The victim tried to avoid eye contact with the observers but at times she did look at someone. She looked at Melanie and Melanie saw something... like recrimination. Blame. As if the girl was saying you did this to me... by coming and watching me you have made my misery possible.

A small sign said "Do Not Touch". Most of the observers respected the request, but one guy put his hand out and ran it down the smooth curve of the girl's breasts, and down the bumps of her rib cage. There was nothing she could do to stop it.

Melanie quickly left the CSJC and went home, climbing into bed with the covers over her head.

The time came. Melanie's alarm went off at 7:00 AM on Wednesday. She had been told to be there 15 minutes early for processing. She showered, dressed, had a light breakfast and then drove to the CSJC to serve her sentence.

The victim's entrance was in the back, and the parking lot was already full. There were a lot of people there today, being punished. The sky was cold and grey and Melanie trudged into the entrance. She got in line with about 20 people ahead of her.

When she reached the front she gave her name. The clerk looked her up and directed her to sign two forms and then go to a specific room.

The room was an austere locker room. Signs announced the process.

"Remove all clothing and place in locker of your choice. No jewelry, contact lenses, piercings. Remove everything. When naked report to technician."

Melanie was already crying in humiliation. Two other girls were with her, already mostly undressed. Melanie began to undo the buttons on her top.

As they stripped Melanie hid her face and tried to cover her private parts. The other two women didn't care and were simply getting naked but Melanie was humiliated by the fact she was having to undress.

She removed her rings, an ankle bracelet, and her earrings. When she was done she was as naked as the day she was born.

Terrified and shaking, Melanie walked to the end of the locker room, where a door labeled "Intake Processing" was located. She attempted to cover her breasts and genitals with her hands. It was cold and unfriendly and felt like she was being made into cattle, but she walked into the room with several others. A technician dressed in white lab coat was there, talking.

"After a brief medical exam you will be offered --- you, you are late," she said to Melanie. Melanie looked confused. She had arrived exactly at 7:45 as she had been told...

"As I said, you will be offered some options to your punishment. The first is the privacy option. If you wish to remain anonymous you can selection this option. It involves wearing this sack over your head the entire session." The technician held up a large burlap sack. Melanie had at first thought she would opt for privacy, but... eight hours in that thing, she thought she would suffocate.

"You have the option of experiencing enhanced discomfort for a reduced sentence. In this case, an additional 20 lbs of weight on your body will reduce your sentence by one hour."

Melanie thought of hanging with an extra 20 lbs of weight... for seven hours... she had no idea what that meant. She might try it. Anything to get out of there faster.

"Some of you have enhancements added anyway. For example, Melanie here has an enhancement for being late, as well as an enhancement for... let's see... ah yes. Lack of contrition. Common mistake. All right, line up for your medical exams."

"What..." Melanie said, dismayed. She already had enhancements?

The technician spoke a little more then had the girls line up. There were five in all.

The medical exam was conducted quickly. The tech listened to their heart, took blood pressure and pulse, checked their eyes for dilation, and took their temperature. The exam was not too bad until they had to get on their hands and knees and have the thermometer thrust up their anus. Melanie gasped at that.

The medical exam was over quickly and the girls had cuffs placed on their wrists and ankles. The cuffs were a wide leather but had a metal cable running inside the leather. This was tightened sufficiently that the cuff would not come off even with the weight of the victim placed fully on the cuff. The cuffs were made to be sturdy, not for comfort.

These cuffs were chained together and the girls were told to stand and wait. The girls did as they were told, standing and waiting. One girl was shaking uncontrollably. Melanie was feeling faint, wondering if she would make it. There was so much fear in the room you could smell it.

One of the girls had apparently been to the CSJC before. "The medical exam used to be more thorough. I guess they don't care that much any more. Well... this is it. Next stop... our punishment."

They were led away. Chains clinking softly, they walked in a line down a hallway.

The CSJC had a pleasant, modern decor for the observers and guests. Behind it all was a warren of concrete passages and rooms where the workers and condemned were processed and transported. Melanie found herself following the girls down the grey hallway, turning right and then entering a metal doorway into a tiny grey room. They were told to sit and wait their turn.

The room was tiny, cramped. Clearly it was just a temporary holding area while the main punishment area was beyond the door on the other side of the room.

One by one they were taken. The chains were released and a girl would be taken through the door. A few minutes later the technician would return, unlock the next girl and take her through the door.

It was finally Melanie's turn. The technician came in, unlocked the chains that fastened her wrists and ankles to the girl next to her and told her to get up. Melanie rose, but fell again. She was faint, weak with fear. The technician prodded her, no sympathy given, simply demanding.

Melanie rose and followed.

Three girls were already in their punishment positions, already stretched out. The audience area could be seen clearly, though there were stage lights shining on the floor were Melanie stood.

The shock was seeing the three girls. They weren't just hanging spread-eagle... they were hanging upside-down!

Melanie gasped and jerked back-- only to be stopped by the tight grip of the technician.

"Don't be givin' me any problems now," she growled.

Melanie knew that those who resisted social justice were simply put to even worse tests and had their punishments extended. It was better to cooperate and get it over with... but... upside down???

"Lay down on your back, here." The technician pointed. Melanie did. Working quickly, the tech attached ropes to her ankle cuffs, and then other ropes to her wrists.

Melanie was sobbing softly as this was done. It was like waiting to be executed while the hangman put the noose around your neck and tightened it. Any second now....

With a whir, the hoist began pulling the rope up. It was the rope attached to Melanie's ankles, and she felt her legs slowly being lifted into the air.

Higher... higher her legs were pulled until her ass also left the ground. She felt the beginning tug of the ropes, separating her legs. High and higher, the ropes pulling further and further apart as they lifted her. "Oh... my god..." she said as her back left the ground her only her shoulders and head touched the concrete.

Her head dragged on the concrete as her shoulders left the ground and then suddenly, she was fully suspended. She swung back and forth the whole world upside-down. It made her nauseous.

But the hoist kept going. Her legs had been spread wide apart by now, and her entire weight was on them. But the hoist pulled her up and her arms stretched out wide as she lifted further off the ground.

Suddenly, the hoist reached the limit-- her arms were tightly pulled out now, the ropes tight. But the hoist kept pulling, groaning. Melanie cried out, "It's not working, I'm all the way up... it should turn off!"

The hoist was designed to place a very specific amount of tension on the victim's body. A certain number of pounds of pressure, and it pulled Melanie up until her arms felt like they would separate, her shoulders coming out of their socket. She screamed out just as the hoist stopped, having reached the proper tension.

Melanie was in agony. Her punishment had just begun... and she wished to die.

Her head pounded as the blood flowed the wrong way. Her feet and hands were numb from the tight pressure of the cuffs. Her elbow, shoulder, hip and knee joints all felt the pressure, all felt as if they might give way at any moment.

Melanie was so glad she had not opted for the additional weight to shorten her sentence... it would have been unbearable.

Melanie's screams had excited the audience. Some laughed, some were cringing, some were... masturbating... as Melanie hung before them.

She had no idea there would be immediate pain. She thought that the suspension would be all right for a while, that over time the muscles would tire and it would get more uncomfortable. But this... it was like being stretched on a rack! Her joints ached, her back was cramping, and her head was going to explode.

Nakedness was now a small part of Melanie's problems.

The last girl was brought in and strung up next to Melanie. She too sobbed when the hoist pulled her, creating increasing tension in her body.  The audience applauded when she screamed, and there was excited chatter as all the girls simply hung, unable to do anything but cry.

Tears came from Melanie's eyes, and trickled down her forehead, finally becoming lost in her hair, which hung toward the floor.

She wished she could see the countdown timer. She knew there was one, above her feet along with her name. But she couldn't see it.

As she suffered, hanging upside down, the audience shifted and changed. People came and went. Time went on, but it seemed like an eternity. She couldn't move. Any attempt at struggling just caused more strain on her joints, and when she cried out in pain it seemed to excite the audience.

At one point she heard a guy say, "That girl. the one called Melanie, yeah. Fantastic body. Look at her cunt. Damn, I hope she fucks up again and gets sent to the rape rooms. I'd pay a lot to get a piece of that."

A technician appeared, a different one. "Melanie. Time for your lack of contrition enhancement."

A rope was encircled around Melanie's neck. She cried out, "What are you doing? Are you killing me? Am I going to die?"

The technician laughed. "Not likely dear, though you might wish to before the day is out."

The ropes themselves didn't bring any extra discomfort to Melanie... until the iron ball was added as weight.

Melanie choked, gasping for air as the ropes tightened around her neck. "Oh god... oh godohgodohgod..."

The weight was not enough to strangle her, just enough to make it harder to breathe. And upside down, it was hard to breathe anyway.

The weight also added a bit of stress to her back and leg joints.

The technician was right, Melanie wanted to die. She actually found it impossible to talk any more, but if she had been able to she would have asked for more weight so she would just strangle... and die.

But Melanie hung, unmoving. Her body was completely still except for her labored breathing.

The whirring click of a camera would sometimes fill the observation area. Someone took photos of the punished girls, hanging upside-down.

Just when she thought she was going to lose consciousness the original technician came in and stood in front of Melanie's agonized body.

"You don't think I forgot you, did you? Here's your enhancement for being late today."

Nipple clamps. Tight ones. First the right nipple; Melanie sobbed and cried out when it went on. Then the left nipple; Melanie once again cried out...

A few minutes later she forgot she even had the clamps on. Her nipples were numb and other areas of her body hurt a lot worse.

The girl on her left had opted for the privacy option. Her sobs had initially been muffled by the sack which enveloped her head and upper body.

After a while, it appeared that the girl was no longer making any noise. Melanie wondered if she had, in fact, suffocated in the sack. She didn't think so, but in her agony Melanie believed anything was possible.

She might be hanging next to a corpse.

There came a point where Melanie realized she needed to pee. She held it briefly but finally realized that just added to her agony. She released it. A stream of urine shot out from between her legs and arched in front of her, splattering on the floor in front of her face.

This brought cheers from some in the audience. Clearly, Melanie had exchanged the pain of holding her urine, for the humiliation of peeing on herself in front of an audience who enjoyed the show very much.

As the stream of urine subsided, it fell on her stomach and trickled down to her breasts, and finally covered her face. Some got in her eyes, and Melanie cried out again from the stinging.

Event such as these were actually welcomed as they broke the tedium of constant pain hanging upside down... hour after hour.

The punishment of one of the other girls had included extra humiliation.

This turned out to be forced orgasms. A vibrator was suspended from her rigging and pressed against her exposed pussy. It was turned on every hour or so for about 15 minutes.

The girl tried to resist. She was in pain, after all, from being suspended and stretched upside down. But eventually the vibration directly on her clit got to her and she shuddered and moaned with pleasure, instead of pain.

Time was a blur marked only by slight changes in her agony. She lost consciousness at one point but was brought around by a splash of water and some smelling salts.

The audience changed, though who they were was not important. They were simply people come to watch her pain. At one point she recognized a guy she had dated some, and even slept with a couple of times. He was watching her with intense concentration. Probably reliving the time he came inside of her, she thought.

The black girl she had referred to as a guerrilla came by to gloat. She made a few comments and laughed as Melanie suffered.

Melanie actually managed to find words in her state and called the girl a corrupted bitch. "Wait until you are here, and I will come see you," said Melanie.

She then passed out again from the pain.

When she was finally released, Melanie was unable to walk for a day. It took her two days to recuperate before getting back to classes. Once she did, everything seemed perfectly normal.

In her Social Justice 101 class they learned about the very first social justice corporal and humiliation punishment, some 20 years before. It was a girl named Fiona and she had been strung up naked in the arboretum of a major university for a few hours while passers by taunted her. Her crime had been to complain that men were using the women's bathroom, pretending to be transgender.

Melanie laughed at the photo in their textbook. That girl had it easy.