Corporate Enslavement

by Steven Drukker

  Meredith lay with her arms folded under her supporting her torso and shoulders alongside her breasts so she wouldn’t have to press her breasts uncomfortably into the hard bottom of the basin. She kept her head raised looking down at the round drain hole near the end of the copper sheet under her. It was silver in contrast to the rich deep hue of the tub. It looked to her like some gaping bright maw where her free will and dignity, her former status and self assurance would be sluiced down like some unwanted female attribute by strange men who had come to control her to the point of ownership. They expressed their control by prying her tightly clenched fists from under her shoulders by her wrists. They pulled her arms out to each side and positioned her wrists in the manacles. A second pair of steel bands circled her arms near her bent elbows and she lay with her arms in a position of universal surrender with her chest flat on the hard surface of the tub. She had to turn her head putting her cheek down on the copper surface because of the positioning of her arms, which denied her the ability to rise. Her back arched and her buttocks appeared even higher with her shoulders flat and her breasts squashed under her. She quietly moaned when a hand at each ankle wrenched her legs open and she felt the cold hard steel of shackles close and lock holding her totally still and helpless. She looked like some bizarre lab experiment spread out with a silver pipe rising from between her elevated bottom cheeks. Both women shrieked in pain when the steel nozzles were brutally ripped from the tight warm receptacles where they were buried. Their anuses gaped as if screaming too, closing slowly, and reluctantly regaining the tight crimped dimple that had yielded to the dilating instruments earlier.

  While exulting in the residual agony of having her anus so pitilessly violated, bathed in the memory of being whipped to acceptance of cruel insertion, Meredith whimpered from the lingering pain of abrupt withdrawal helplessly displaying the gaping consequences to all the men in the room. The warm spray between her raised bottom cheeks and the probing of rubber gloved fingers cleaning the lubricant internally and externally as if to remove telling evidence of her violation imprinted the experience indelibly while she lay hopelessly demeaned by the continuing cavalier manipulation of her bound nudity. She could neither lower her buttocks nor draw her legs together. Draped over the bar in bound exhibition as if putting her most intimate anatomy on offer Meredith suffered the ignominy of being bathed by men she not only didn’t know, but who treated her with the same careless indifference they would show as if bathing an animal, a pet dog perhaps. In spite of the humiliation, the warm water was relaxing and the scrub brushes were not the bristly coarse instruments they appeared to be. After an invigorating scrub, her shackles were unfastened and she was ordered over on her back. As she rose on her hands and knees, she saw Darlene flat on her back next. Her position and the glimpse Meredith got of what they were doing gave Meredith a clear picture of what further indignities she was about to suffer. Groaning with the effort to turn and with an expression on her face that looked like she was on an express bus to hell, Meredith lowered herself with the bar under her at the join of her buttocks and thighs. Supporting herself on her elbows, she slowly began to recline. Impatiently two of the men wrenched her arms out throwing her on her back with a shrill protest and quickly fixed her wrists and arms securely into the steel shackles once more. When her ankles were drawn wide and secured firmly in the shackles at the sides of the wash basin, Meredith lay with her pubic mound raised prominently by the bar holding her hips and buttocks raised and arching her back off the bottom of the copper basin. Only her arms and shoulders rested on the surface above and only her heels below. They sprayed her hair and face causing her to splutter, then the warm water was directed at her proffered mons and exposed vulva. While one of the men poured shampoo in her hair and vigorously massaged her scalp with strong fingers, another lathered her pubic hair thoroughly in preparation for shaving. In a peculiar concatenation of physical and emotional sensations, Meredith relaxed, enjoying the soothing attention at her head while her pubic thatch was shaved clean and bare. Something beyond the hirsute covering of her mons and labia were removed by the slick glide and scrape of an expertly wielded cut-throat razor, it was a further reduction of dignity and denial of concealment bringing her down the path whose goal was her complete ownership and control by the corporation. The physical manifestations of owning her were only the visible signs of possession, mental and emotional property rights would be thoroughly inculcated through discipline and training. The path led in only one direction-Meredith’s subjugation and surrender to intrinsic feminine servitude. Her will to be anything but what was required would be stripped as smoothly and irrevocably as the hair on her pubic mound. Jonathan would see to it personally. Meredith strained to look down at herself after she was shaved. What she saw made her sob softly. Her freshly denuded mons bulged conspicuously at the base of her belly. Her tautly bowed thighs and elevated hips made the prominence of her mons the apex of her nudity and her inability to draw her legs together, with her ankles held wide to the sides of the basin, forced her to display her vulva in all its bareness and vulnerability. The bar under her pressed hard into the softness of her buttocks and thighs offering no relief from her arched exposure. The steel bands circling her wrists and arms held not only her arms in the position of surrender, but also pinned her shoulders to the basin flaunting her ample breasts high and wide on her chest. Pleasingly rounded and raised by the slight slope of her torso they to rose in eminence peaked by large aureoles and generous nipples only marginally less ostentatious than her hairless mons. Jonathan looked down on her lushly displayed nudity as an attendant sprayed her with a final rinse. She seemed nearly luminescent from the fresh pink glow left by the scrub brush and the water sheeting and dripping from her naked body.

  Bereft of modesty and makeup, her hair a sodden mass under her head Meredith looked up at the discipline and punishment master hovering above her helplessly displayed nakedness. Straining against the steel bands fixed to her arms and legs as if she could somehow escape their adamantine grasp and cover herself, she simply demonstrated their effectiveness writhing in futility against their unyielding grip. Adding to the healthy pink glow left by her scrubbing, Meredith crimsoned from brow to breasts as she heard Jonathan announce to the attendant how he wanted her brought to him for punishment.

  Meredith felt more than ridiculous as she was escorted into the dining hall her arms in the firm grasp of two guards. They marched her briskly through the tables where all the other girls sat watching her progress. Once she stood on the raised dais in full view of everyone, she felt even more exposed to ridicule. They had forced her to nearly run up the few steps, then left her shame faced on the dais alone with Jonathan and the Spartan requirements for her public punishment. She’d no idea she would be punished in front of everyone, that realisation, the innocuous looking padded bench, and the less innocent short cane dangling from the iron hand rail at its back were reason enough to give her shivers of dreadful anticipation. But the kit they had made her wear was above all else most embarrassing. Meredith was a mature woman; some years senior to most of the girls and women who had been indentured and committed to the severe regime of the company-training annex. Therefore, her schoolgirl dress and demeanour were quintessentially humbling. Shiny patent-leather T-strapped shoes with no discernible heel over white knee-high socks revealed a good deal of her bare thighs beneath the short hem of her pleated tartan skirt. The starched whiteness of her blouse contrasted starkly with the dark plaid of her skirt straps lying over her breasts in front and crossed in back. They had done her hair in two fluffy falls behind her ears giving her a juvenile look not unlike that of some sixth-former. Meredith felt the fool for being presented to all in such a juvenile kit; it hardly seemed fitting for a woman in her mid-thirties and an executive vice president at that. She was having a good deal of trouble shedding her former status and position. Jonathan would have her in a position that would reduce her to a snivelling schoolgirl in short order.

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sp; The stillness of the room was palpable as though some physical force was isolating Meredith and Jonathan throwing each movement they made into high relief. Meredith’s humiliation was embellished by the mental confusion induced by her schoolgirl uniform amplifying and exaggerating her presence on the dais as if she were some unruly schoolgirl to be chastised for girlish misdemeanours. Her sense of being observed dissolved in a strange feeling of solitude controlled entirely by the overpowering physical presence of Jonathan. The light in her eyes reflected youth and beauty confronted by an adult obligation to relinquish her will to the commanding black man who was her discipline and punishment master. The tenderness she saw reflected on his face was unexpected and an added confusion factor that induced only abject surrender and complete obedience to his domination. Her subjugation to his imminent discipline and punishment was tacitly agreed to by both as Meredith stood like a schoolgirl in front of her master.

  “Kneel up on the caning bench, Miss Montgomery.”

  The near whisper of his voice carried no further than Meredith’s lowered head. And like the obedient schoolgirl she resembled, Meredith stepped to the high bench. The soft scuffle of her shiny shoes was the only sound in the still dining hall. The nearly fifty girls watching from their places at table seemed to be holding their breath magnifying the silence and making Meredith’s movements and quiet rustlings significant beyond their softly sounded obedience. Since the top of the wide narrow bench was near mid-thigh, Meredith had to raise her knee high and to the side while grasping the low black iron rail at the back of the bench and then pull herself up to properly mount and kneel as she had been ordered. Once she knelt up on the bench positioned high as the visual focal point in full view of all in the room, Jonathan moved in front of her and issued further instruction.

  “Move up with your knees pressed well into the board. Lean forward and raise your skirt to your waist. Lower your panties to bare your bottom then grasp the bar with your palms forward. Keep your arms straight, arch your back, and bend your knees slightly offering your buttocks to the cane. Keep your head up.”

  With that he removed the short whippy whalebone stave from its hook and, once Meredith had arranged herself as ordered, offered the instrument of her chastisement to her lips.

  “Kiss it,” he commanded.

  Meredith brushed it with her lips.

  Her own role in preparation for chastisement diminished her more by far than if she had been bound naked and helpless for her punishment. Raising her skirt and lowering her panties to offer her bottom cheeks not only to the cane, but in full broad bareness to the other women watching showed them more than the bared white globes of her behind. It showed her acceptance of Jonathan’s authority and her meek acquiescence to his right to thrash her for her insolent behaviour. There was no questioning or hesitation when he told her to raise her skirt and lower her panties. Meredith raised the hem of her skirt high on her waist, and with her fingers inside the elastic, slipped the tautly stretched swath of black silk down over her hips lowering them to divulge the swell of her broadened buttocks and hips. The waistband clung to her thighs underlining the pale distension of her bare bottom with the crotch panel, as if on tenterhooks, stretching beneath the deep cleft of her buttocks darkly adumbrating the bulge of her sex and suggestively pointing to the concealed pucker of her anal rim between the deep rift of her pale cheeks. She gave herself up to Jonathan, the cane, and the other girls empathetically watching her self-preparation.

  After she kissed the whalebone rod, Meredith raised her head staring at the blank wall she faced. With her arms straight, elbows locked gripping the stout steel bar tightly she felt Jonathan’s broad hand in the small of her back.

  “Arch your back more,” he commanded.

  Meredith did as she was told distending her cheeks wider raising and presenting them prominently. She was ready.

  The presentation she made to the interested observers beneath the dais lent an air of anonymity to the woman perched on the punishment bench. All they could see was the broad exhibition of her white bottom cheeks, the back of her thighs with her black silk panties lowered to their fleshy pillared fullness in proper half masted divulgence, and the light tan soles of her shoes. She was simply a still life study of ‘Woman Positioned for Punishment’. Jonathan lent animation to the still life.

  The tableau was visually completed as Jonathan wrapped his right arm around Meredith’s waist holding her close to his side while bending and bracing his knee against the bench. The thin whippy switch appeared tiny and ineffectual in his ham-fisted grip. When he applied it, the colours of sound and motion it adduced in the hapless Meredith demonstrated its effectiveness brightly and loudly. Her first cry was one of astonishment, not pain. She was astonished at the burning pain it laid across her nates.

  The contrast of Jonathan’s calm and deliberate motion with Meredith’s frantic kicking of her lower legs and the futile rolling of her buttocks to escape the cut and bite of agony laid on remorselessly by her discipline and punishment master was like a peculiar and erotic Punch and Judy show. While Jonathan painted her pale bottom cheeks with stripes of crimson agony Meredith painted the walls of the dining hall with the scarlet screams of her suffering. Nothing had ever hurt so much as the burning incisions made by the tirelessly flagellating whalebone splattering pain and punishment across her bottom, forcing it through her brainstem and out her mouth in strident exhalations of obedience to its rhythmic splat. Her fleshy cheeks shuddered and quaked at each pain-splashing stroke dancing agony in blazing fiery welts across her proffered buttocks. Her cheeks glowed like two quivering suns emanating searing heat and light in an iridescence of torment. The strident tortured tone of Meredith’s wails and the authoritative splat of whalebone sending shock waves across her juddering bottom cheeks dispelled the appearance of a schoolgirl being punished by her master. Her squirming pain filled punishment drenching the auditorium like setting with the naked tortured screams of a mature woman being given a lesson in obedience. In spite of the severity of her discipline and against all reason, Meredith clung to the bar of the caning bench with a grip that kept her in position as relentlessly as Jonathan’s methodical and maddening painful application of the whippy whalebone. A raspberry flush glowed brightly like garnishes of agony on her pale globes dancing and quivering in vulnerable presentation for the bone cane and its blazing ministrations. The louder her sobbing squeals of pain and agony, the more frenetically she wriggled her hips and bottom in animation of her suffering, the more acutely she arched her back and thrust her buttocks rearward as if to escape her disciplining by broadening and offering her bottom cheeks beyond the merciless range of agony burning and flaming her bared bottom. The lusty and lascivious exhibition of her nates declared an emotional state beyond those evoked by punishment and discipline. A slick vaginal exudate as unctuous as it was plentiful shone wetly on Meredith’s swollen labia. Her pain, humiliation, and public denigration triggered a sexual response that was as surprising to her as it was commonplace to Jonathan. When he saw the unmistakable signs of her sexual arousal, he stopped her punishment. Unfulfilled need surged through Meredith’s mind and body as she sobbed uncontrollably displaying her pain polished nates and the intensity of her excitement in seeping wetness on the bulge of her shaved vulva and the soft whiteness of her inner thighs. Her inner lips extruded pink and nearly dripping with desire as a sign of her successfully administered punishment. Her response was as Jonathan expected it to be. He made her give him thanks in the standard fashion of those indentured to the annex.

  The nadir of her humiliation was not in the act itself, but in the mortifying return to her table with the evidence smeared over her face. Jonathan had her fellate him in front of everyone. His sexual equipment was more weapon like than anything Meredith had ever experienced in her active sexual life. Nevertheless, she took the truncheon-sized member in her mouth as well as she could. Her efforts left most of his thick shaft a dusky dull charcoal with her saliva glistening onl
y on the glans and forepart that she could accommodate in her widely opened mouth and pliant lips. She knelt before him moving her upper body forward and back sucking and stimulating his rigidity in crushing humiliation as the gathered assemblage watched. Gurgling and groaning, sobbing and choking with her efforts, holding her wrists crossed behind her back and her ankles as well, just as Jonathan had ordered, the rough fabric of her skirt seeming to lacerate her burning bottom cheeks, in extension of her pain and punishment. Meredith knelt up in her short skirt and white knee socks orally servicing her discipline and punishment master. Meredith again looked like a schoolgirl. Her former dignity and elevated station in life disappeared as she gulped and gargled with Jonathan’s penis in her mouth. His firm hand on the top of her head guided and urged her back and forth making her take the length and girth of him as deeply as she could then pushed her back to reveal the slick gleam of her saliva on his emerging staff as she hollowed her cheeks and pursed her lips in pouty fullness drawing her lips along it as if reluctant to let it slip from her mouth. Repeatedly moving her to and fro, distorting her attractive features as he penetrated her orally Meredith whinged with her cheeks bulging and lips dilated gagging from the fullness over her tongue and at her gorge, and when she could no longer breathe, he withdrew once more only to repeat the process. The concentration on her aristocratic features as she avidly applied herself to taking Jonathan as fully into her mouth as she could, detracted from her youthful appearance, as did the act itself. On the other hand, the eagerness of earnestness with which she applied herself seemed to display an enthusiasm often seen only in the very young. Eyes wide from the thrust into her throat, closed in what appeared to be rapt attention when the bone hard erection was extracted from her grasping lips as if a huge black bar were being withdrawn from her gaping maw, Meredith ignominiously lent tongue and lip to the task forced on her.