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The soft click of the door unlocking woke her. Then the room flooded with light, and she screwed her eyes shut against the glare, rolling her head into the hard pillow and pulling the single thin blanket tight around her neck. Her back ached, her head ached, and she felt bruised all over. She tensed, realising she was naked apart from that one blanket. She heard footsteps – heavy, slow tread of a big person – and deep, slow breathing. He stopped by the head of the bed, and she jumped as a large, warm hand clasped her shoulder, shaking her gently. She yelped in pain, and he stopped, then sat on the side of the bed, his weight sinking it down so she had to brace against rolling towards him.

‘You’re awake. What’s hurting?’ The voice was hardly more than a whisper, but deep and rich, a voice that reminded her of gentle, huge ocean swells spending themselves on a slow-shelving beach.

His hand was still on her shoulder, warm and heavy.

‘My back hurts’ she whispered. As if to prove her words, another shaft of pain shot up from her pelvis, and she gasped and tensed against it.

‘Hey, gently, gently. Come on, relax.’ His hand moved, slowly, stroking down her spine, feeling the muscles bunched tight each side of her spine. The pain eased, and she relaxed a little, leaning against his strong fingers as they worked on her.

‘That’s it. Good girl.. just relax. Let it go.’

He moved, turning around so he could get both hands onto her back, and she shivered as he took the blanket out of her grip, pulling it down to expose her torso.

‘Easy now, girl. Easy. Not going to hurt you.’ His arms were bare, thickly haired, and the soft pelt felt good on her skin. He was using his forearms now, pressing gently on her back, stretching out her spine – as the pressure increased, she felt something ‘give’ deep inside her spine, with an audible crunch – immediately, the nagging pain stopped, and as he lifted his arms slowly off her, she breathed deeply for the first time in days.

‘It’s stopped.’ She said in surprise.

He chuckled, a deep sound that made her smile in automatic response.

‘Good. Thought that’d do it, either ease it or snap your back completely. You’re a big strong lass, a lot of muscle to have in spasm like that. Can you move now?’

She heaved herself around gingerly, clutching the blanket under her chin. He was, indeed , huge – a big, dark-haired mountain of a man, with enormous hands now resting on his thighs. He was dressed as they all were, in the black uniform of the guards, but she had a powerful impression of him wearing that authority lightly, as if it was almost incidental to his power.

She sat up, her back flinching from the cold painted wall of the cell, huddling under her inadequate cover.

‘You’re cold.’ He rumbled, frowning, and she nodded, shivering.

He took off his jacket and put it around her shoulders, his hands warm on her cold flesh. It was huge, like being engulfed in a great bear-hug, and she gave him a small, careful smile.

‘Thank you. I don’t know where my clothes are.’

‘Taken away for examination. They’ll be returned to you in due course. Are you hungry?’

She nodded, then hesitated.

‘I – I need to use a toilet.’

He glanced away, and she wondered if he was embarrassed.

‘It’s over there. I won’t look.’ She looked at the far corner of the cell, and there was indeed a toilet, half-screened by a low wall.

She stood up slowly, and he moved to allow her past – even in his shirtsleeves he was an imposing figure. She did her business – flushing with shame as he stood, gazing out of the single high window – then, tucking the blanket sarong-style around herself, returned to sit huddled on the bed.

He sat on the bed again, moving easily in spite of his size, and she realised that the bulk was muscle and bone, not fat. His dark, curly hair was short, and heavy brows jutted out over deep brown eyes that seemed to look straight into her mind. A broad, broken nose, and a mouth with sensually curved lips, but held in a severe straight line, and a heavy, determined jaw and chin, combined to show her a warrior, someone accustomed to conflict and heavy fighting, but still held under firm discipline.

He gazed at her, the woman allotted to him, and felt pleased with his bargaining. Not young, not slim, but strongly built and curvy, with deep generous hips and big, full breasts, her long tangled hair lay in dark curls on her shoulders, and her blue eyes looked at him with wary interest. She’d been in a lot of pain, until he released her back spasm, but now she was huddled up, trying to cover herself with that wretched blanket, still cold in spite of his jacket around her shoulders. She looked oddly appealing – the jacket was so huge on her, and her soft, clear skin almost glowed in the harsh light of the cell, in spite of the grime covering her.

He knew what he had to do, what they’d be expecting him to do, and he had no choice – to divert from orders was to invite disgrace, even at his rank.

‘Do you know why you’re here?’ he asked, and she shook her head.

‘You’ve been brought görükle escort in to perform a – service. It’s a privilege. You – should be pleased to be selected.’

She dropped her eyes, and he knew she understood. He dared not say any more, but when he reached out to take the blanket from her, he gripped her cold hand briefly, and mouthed the words, ‘I’m sorry.’

She shook her head, her eyes dark with fear, but there was no more he could do. Already he was behind time, and he set his mouth hard, then ripped the blanket from her, and roughly pulled her down onto the bed.

She whimpered in fear as he held her down, one huge hand pressing onto her stomach, and he felt the firmness of her tensed muscles as he unzipped his fly, bringing out his cock. Even limp it was an impressive length, and as he stroked it the blood pumped in, bringing him to an erection that she watched with amazement.

‘I – I can’t, it’s too big’ she whimpered, but he dared not stop now.

‘Spread your legs, bitch. You’ll take it.’ He said in a loud, clear voice, and glanced up to the corner of the room where the camera was concealed. She followed his glance, then looked at his face, and he risked a brief nod.

Obediently, she opened her legs, and winced as his fingers explored her crack. He took her hand and placed it on his cock, and she gripped it, her fingers hardly able to meet around it. Then she moaned softly, and he realised she was becoming aroused, even in this god-awful place. Quickly, he lowered his trousers, and her hand caressed his genitals, sweeping down the shaft of his cock and cupping his heavy testicles, then back up, her fingers expertly teasing the sensitive hood. A drop of lubrication oozed out, and she gasped as he moved his hand from her cunt, now wet and open, to her breasts, pinching and rolling the dark red, erect nipples as he moved onto her, his huge body covering hers. She arched up against him as he played with her nipples, and guided the tip of his cock against her cunt. The electricity was amazing – she couldn’t wait to have him plunging deep inside her, stretching and filling her hungry cunt. He growled and thrust against her, missing at first, but then she held herself open for him, and he plunged in, and she moaned with the intensity of it.

‘Sorry’ he whispered, and she moaned again.

‘No, it’s wonderful. Oh god, it’s wonderful’, and she squirmed and clenched tight around his pole with her cunt muscles, making him shudder in delight. He’d chosen well – this woman, too dowdy and fat to appeal to the others, was a sensual, powerful bitch, hungry for a good fuck, and well capable of taking his tool.

As he settled into the rhythm of thrusting, she rose to meet him, her legs winding around his thighs, holding him close – within seconds they were both moaning and gasping for breath, then with a great shuddering cry he climaxed, spurting deep into her welcoming cunt, and he felt her flowering and gripping around him, in her own release.

He fell down onto her, shaking and unable to support himself on his arms. She held him close, her mouth soft and warm on his shoulder, kissing him and burying her face against his flesh.

‘Oh, that was glorious.’ She whispered, then gasped as he managed a few last deep thrusts before he slid out of her, soft and damp. She held him there, revelling in the weight of a powerful male body on her, but he pulled away after a minute, and covered her quickly with the blanket. She was damp with their combined sweat and love juices, and he stroked the curling hair off her forehead, and then stood up to dress and get back to his duties.

‘I’ll make sure your clothes are returned to you this morning. You’ll be expected to do a few jobs around the place. You won’t be harmed.’ She realised this was for the benefit of those watching, and nodded, trying not to smile.

He left her then… and shortly afterwards, another guard appeared with her clothes in an untidy bundle. She washed herself, shivering in the cold air, then dressed quickly, grateful for the warmth of woollen stockings, petticoats, overskirt, and thick jacket. Over her hair she tied her black wool scarf, concealing the long, shining curls. All black, all rather old, definitely in need of a wash, very unflattering, but practical and warm. And underneath the familiar roughness, she glowed and pulsed with the after-shocks of his lovemaking.

She was taken, with the other women, to the kitchens and laundry of the station, and set to work preparing food. There were other women there, already – some heavily pregnant, all working in near-silence, keeping a wary eye on the guards supervising them. One woman was resentful, obviously new, and started talking loudly about ‘slave labour’ and being raped… in spite of the warning pinches and hushings from the more experienced women, she kept on, then turned and addressed the guard directly. He was a tall, slim man, with a dark face and cold eyes, and he acted swiftly, in what was obviously a well-practised routine.

He went up to her, where she was chopping onions, took the knife from her hand, bent her forward over the chopping görükle escort bayan block, and ripped her skirt up the back, exposing her bare thighs and bottom. She wriggled and squealed, but he merely slapped her over the head, then undid his flies and fucked her from behind, thrusting brutally up into her cunt. When he’d finished he slapped her buttocks, hard, and then hauled her upright by her hair. She had chopped onions sticking to her face and front, tears streaming down her cheeks, and was flushed deep red with humiliation. The guard gave her back the chopping knife, and she stood there for the rest of the morning, chopping onions, her torn skirt exposing her bottom to everyone. The other women averted their eyes from the sight of the red hand-print on her buttocks, and the slime slick on her thighs, but the guards passing by all looked and laughed, joking with the kitchen guard about his methods of control.

M. worked in silence, keeping her mouth closed and her eyes open, and noted the above episode with little surprise, but sympathy for the poor silly hen who hadn’t realised where she was, nor how the guards kept control. She’d noticed immediately the tiny red lights in the corners of the ceiling, and knew that was why the women hadn’t leapt on the guard while he was busy with the foolish one, and ripped him to pieces.

Also, in spite of the violence with which they’d been snatched from their normal lives, and the confinement, at least here they were out of the aching cold of winter, they had somewhere to sleep, and regular food, and they earned it by doing basic domestic tasks. It was a pleasant change from starving. M’s plump body had suffered less than thinner women in the recent weeks, but it was still good to have hot food in her stomach rather than muddy, raw root vegetables.

That night she was led to his quarters, a couple of rooms with a tiny bathroom, overlooking the central courtyard. His bed was wide and comfortable, he said little, and she noticed that even here there were surveillance cameras, up in the corners of the room.

He showered, then sat in a long robe in front of the television, and she stood silently by his chair, waiting for him to instruct her.

‘You’d better go and clean up. You stink of the kitchen. Wash your clothes as well, there’s more for you over there.’

She obeyed in silence, revelling in the gush of hot water that rinsed off the dirt of recent weeks from her hair and body, lathering herself generously, humming with pleasure.

He came into the bathroom as she was rinsing off for the third time, and chuckled. She fell silent and still.

‘You’ll wash away into nothing. Have you done your clothes?’

She nodded, and he reached in and turned the water off.

‘Towel. Get dry before you start shivering.’

She took the big, warm towel, and dried herself quickly, intensely aware of his gaze. Even after scrubbing under the water, her skin still felt dirty, but she was glowing pink.

‘Turn around’ he ordered, and she turned her back on him, releasing the towel as he pulled at it.

He rubbed it briskly down her back, with hard, sure movements, and she braced against it, enjoying the rough massage.

‘Robe. On the hook. Dry your hair.’

Once clean, robed and with her damp hair spread out on her shoulders to dry, he allowed her to sit in the other easy chair, her bare feet tucked up under her, and he questioned her about her background, family, how she’d survived the coming of the cold, what skills she had. He’d noted her deep, sweet humming, and she admitted she had some ability as a singer.

‘Sing for me. Something soft.’

She hesitated, then sang an old folk song. She didn’t remember all the words, but it seemed two verses were enough.

‘I like that. Come here, and kneel down.’ He beckoned her, and she knelt between his parted thighs. His huge cock lay relaxed on a bed of thick, soft hair, and cushioned by his scrotum. He gazed into her face, stroking her soft, long hair.

‘We must conform to expectations. You understand?’ he whispered, and she nodded. He took her hand, and placed it on his cock. It stirred under her touch.

‘You are here as my pleasure woman. You will work in the kitchens by day, and pleasure me at night. Do you understand?’

She looked into his deep, warm brown eyes, and nodded again, then to his amazement, smiled sweetly, lowered her head, and very gently kissed the tip of his cock. It was almost an act of homage, and his heart thundered in his chest as she proceeded to lick, nibble, and mouth his tool until it stood aching upright. Then she took it in her mouth, just the hood at first, then a little more, and he nearly passed out with the intense pleasure she gave him. He lay back, gripping the arms of his chair, closing his eyes, feeling as though he were floating, and the only point of existence was his cock in her warm, skillfully moving mouth. He was dimly aware of her fingers caressing his balls, and the shaft of his cock, and even reaching down, beyond his testicles, exploring and stroking his anus – he exploded into action, thrusting bursa escort hard up into her mouth, bucking and groaning as she stayed with him. Then she moved, stood up, her robe falling open, and he pulled her down to straddle him, her big full breasts in his face as he fumbled to get his cock up into her crack.

She moaned as he thrust and impaled her, and lowered herself slowly onto him, her warm, wet tightness admitting him slowly, as he kissed and mouthed at her breasts, one then the other. She winced, gasped, and her cunt tightened almost painfully on him when he sucked her nipples, and pinched them – then arched her back, and begged for more, harder, tighter attention to them. He ached with the need to come, and she kissed his forehead, then his mouth, driving herself down onto him, shuddering with arousal. He speeded up his thrusting, gripping her by her hips, and she bounced on him, hair flying wildly around, moaning – ‘yes, yes, oh god yes… ‘ he could hold back no longer. As her eyes rolled and she quivered with her own orgasm, he shuddered and spurted up into her, a fountain of hot semen, draining his balls and shaking him to his core.

She collapsed onto his chest, both of them slick with sweat, holding and caressing him with shaking hands.

He stroked her back under the coarse robe, feeling the smoothness and strength of her, then the broad shaping of her hips and bottom, and those amazing, powerful thighs. His hands were trembling when he reached her labia, and felt how completely she’d taken him, totally impaled on his length.

They remained joined for several minutes, she straddling him, leaning forward to lie on his broad, hairy chest, kissing his neck and face, as they whispered to each other.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t like ordering you around like a slave’ he murmured, and she kissed him, her nipples brushing his chest deliciously.

‘I understand. It’s fine.’ She replied, her tongue tracing the outline of his ear, then her soft lips kissing him there. It tickled, and he shivered, making his cock inside her twitch. She tensed her cunt muscles briefly in return, and he felt himself building up to another erection, the blood pumping into his cock while it remained in her, soft, wet and sated. She rocked her pelvis and tensed her buttocks, tightening further around him, and smiled into his eyes, darkening again with arousal.

‘Mmmmm… you are indeed a strong warrior. Ready for a return bout?’

‘How about you? Shall we go to the bed?’

She nodded and made to move, but he held her firmly to him, and stood up carefully, her legs and arms winding around him, as he lurched across to the bed. They laughed silently, as they managed the move without uncoupling, and she squirmed happily on the soft mattress, his great body looming above her, holding him firmly in with her strong legs.

‘You. Are. The. Most. Amazing. Wench.’ He kissed her breasts and face between each word.

She giggled, then sighed in pleasure as he lay heavily on her.

‘With a man like you, how could I be anything else? Oh… oh, yes, yes…’ she moaned as he thrust again into her, slowly and deeply, almost withdrawing completely and then plunging very deliberately, pile-driving into her warm wetness.

They did sleep, eventually, lying close together spoon-fashion, his arm flung over her, his hand cupping one breast. She lay quietly, just enjoying the feel of a large, warm male body so close to hers, the hair on his chest and belly lightly tickling her back, and that wonderful big, soft cock lying so comfortably just below her buttocks. He slept deeply, oblivious to anything, sated and exhausted. She dozed, slept, woke, then dozed again, more aware of her surroundings and the slowly increasing dim blue light of a winter’s morning. She slipped from the bed early, used the toilet and showered, then returned to the warmth of his body.

He nuzzled her neck.

‘Mmmmm… you smell nice.’

‘It’s your soap’ she murmured, but he just kissed her.

‘No. It’s you. D’you always get up this early?’

‘It’s seven thirty. Not very early.’ She yelped as he sat up in shock, turning on the light and groaning.

‘Oh FUCK, I should’ve been up at seven, and you’re due in the kitchen in ten minutes.’

He kissed her once more, hard and quick, then flung himself into the bathroom, showered and out within three minutes, threw her a pile of clothes, and got himself dressed with neat efficiency.

They were both ready within ten minutes: she, transformed by drab skirt, blouse and kerchief into a kitchen worker, he a smartly uniformed officer. He patted her rounded bottom, and they hurried off to their day’s duties.

The uniform for women workers was simple. A long, white cotton shift, over which a stomacher provided some support for the breasts, but no modern bra or panties were allowed. A long dark woollen skirt, knee-high socks, and thick wood and leather clogs, and a low-cut front fastening top completed the look, with a headscarf for kitchen workers. Any woman could be punished at any time by being forced to have sex with a guard – he would simply lift her skirt and shift, expose her naked arse, and fuck her on the spot. The top was cut low enough that undoing the top hook would allow the breasts to be exposed, a lesser humiliation but one that meant any passing male was permitted to touch the tender flesh, and play with the woman’s nipples.

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