Miras
Tribune
This is something I´ have recentlu put together for Reddit, while solving complicated issues with The Princesses in the Tower. I guess it is much closer to the spirit of this page. Enjoy!
I admit that I was always puffed up with pride when I saw envy in men's eyes. It always appeared there when I told them that I worked in a women's prison, and when I became the director there, I felt like an angel, like an ambassador of God. My predecessor was a super guy, but I always considered myself more careful when it came to figuring out ways to make imprisoned women suffer - especially the attractive ones. It was enough, and no one could prove to me how many guards they had to show themselves in all their beauty and masturbate on top of that, how much the new work schedules strained them, and how the luckiest guys could hit them, especially in places that the wenches didn't want to show anyone.
It was all made a little easier by the new legislation, according to which institutions such as schools, hospitals, and prisons could corporal punishment of their charges. In the case of the fairer sex, previously protected, it was recommended for them now. Science said they weren't as sensitive to pain anyway, and they were lifelong pranksters who needed to have their heads fixed often. In addition, we did not have to give them beatings only as a punishment or part of the interrogation but also simply as a "medical intervention". Well, it certainly benefited someone when my boys left the door open in the disciplinary room, and the whistle of straps, switches, birches, canes, and whips carried through the corridors, which drowned in the screaming of the bitches anyway.
Loud screaming of the bitches.
Yesterday, I had to reorganize a lot for today to receive a visitor, our new bird, at eleven. One of the guards was almost punctual. He didn't open the door until 10:59 and ushered in a shackled addition to our family. Right after a medical checkup.
Catherine Reacher still had remnants of self-confidence in her eyes, looking at me, trying to guess if I would do her favors. Excellent! A woman's pain is all the better when you can not only slice skin on her bottom or back but also shatter her hopes.
The new prisoner was wearing a white sweater and pink/purple pants. The guard behind her carried a folded orange uniform. She came this way for a good reason.
"Sit!" I roared at her and watched in delight as she opened her mouth and sat down on the chair, her handcuffed hands falling over the armrest.
"Miss Reacher, so you are the person who likes to do insurance frauds. I think we need to show you how we are doing it in our institution. You will learn our rules, and you must be honest and truthful. Stand up!"
The convicted fraudster stood up, shaking from tits to thighs. Far greater fear must have taken hold of her when I pulled out two things from under the table. Sheet of text and a long, thin cane.
"Uncuff her," I ordered the guard, who was more than happy to oblige. Catherine rubbed her wrist shortly, but my next instruction followed soon. "Undress and take the top of the uniform!"
Catherine froze. "In front of you two?" It was hard to understand her, but it was clear what she was asking.
"Of course! You have to show that you're not hiding anything from us, and what better way to do that than naked? Of course, we'll get something else out of it too.”
Catherine couldn't hold herself and fell. However, the guard already knew what to do. Helping her up, he offered her a few smacks on her trembling butt. She slipped out of his hands but immediately began to do my bidding. I felt the bulging of my cock as soon as she took off her pants, making the movements emphasize her hips and nice legs. The guard gave her another pat as she removed her sweater.
"Bra too. You'll get a new one soon anyway."
The pink bra soon ended up on the chair, like the previous pieces of clothing.
“Stand at attention with your hands behind your head.”
“Stand at attention with your hands behind your head.”
So for two minutes, the guard and I enjoyed looking at the beautiful, grand tits that contrasted with her otherwise slim figure. However, neither of us reached out. However, other joys await us, and she will enjoy a lot of pinching and squeezing in the following years. For now, let her cry in her naivety that this is the worst thing that could happen to her.
Catherine was now red with shame and orange from her shoulders to her waist. I placed the paper on the table´s edge in front of my chair and approached the woman, cane in my hand. She went several steps back when she heard its vibration, but I grabbed her wrist.
"Now you pull your panties down to your knees and lie across the table. There are rules for prisoners on the sheet. You read the first thirty-five, and after reading each of them, you receive a small souvenir, so you have something to think about and don't want to break the rules. "
Catherine sniffed a little. "If I'm going to be beaten anyway, the rules become meaningless."
So it's time to threats. "You came to us to learn something. Professional thrashing will teach you, even if it precedes a misdeed. If you want to know the real punishment, i.e. to introduce your back or tits to our whip, keep talking. Otherwise, start reading with your butt accepting what is coming to it."
She lowered her head to the ground. I think it was at that moment that the originally independent person became our prisoner. She confirmed this by taking the necessary steps forward and pulling down her green panties. It was clear she didn't want us to see her cunt, but one thing at a time.
My breath caught already the moment the proud female bent over the table and her firm ass arched on the edge. I poked the small of her back with the cane and then leaned it across her cheeks, preparing myself for the blow.
"Prisoners are supposed to wake up at 6:30" a.m. and go to sleep no later than 10 p.m. and be quiet at night."
You won't be quiet, my dear... I spread out my busy hand, and with a backward movement, I arranged for the rod to taste the fraudulent's ass.
"Ow!"
I started a little more gently, but Catherine was still twitching. It even looked like she was trying to get up. So I pushed her back, even slapped the spot on her bottom where the first red line was slowly starting to form, and enjoyed her squeal. She began studying the rules again, though her speech on further reading was less coherent.
"P-prisoners are expected to follow rules of personal hygiene!"
SWISH!
"AAAAAWWWW!"
I put a little more force into each blow, which we heard in the screams of the punished convict. She'd probably scream anyway. She's a little princess who was never even slapped, let alone spanked, and thats why she ended up here. We have to fix it now. We have a hard lot.
"No more, please. I will abide by it!"
She begged like this for the tenth stroke and started waving her hands over the table. I ordered the guard to hold them for her. Soon, she was whimpering almost as loudly from his grip as she was from her rapidly growing welts.
"You're not supposed to talk now, only read! You'll thank us for forgiving this backbiting, but we won't forgive you for the rest of the beating!"
"Pppprisoners are not supposed to engage in lesbian activity!"
SWISH!
SWISH!
Since she couldn't move her arms, she kicked her legs backward. To be honest when I stepped back a bit, I liked it. It made it easier for me to see what she hid from me, and in addition, the cane sometimes hit a little below the place I was targeting. It was also cute how her panties stretched and gradually slid down. A woman is perfectly complemented by her underwear but even better complemented by helplessness!
At the seventeenth stroke, I realized we were halfway through, and the blows probably merged to her. However, I had to admit I could still understand her despite swallowing an endless waterfall of tears.
"Break," I announced, but I was already thinking about how to make the second part special. Catherine needed to rest a bit so that she wouldn't either pass out or stop feeling the pain. I decided that after ten minutes of constant crying, she would benefit most from a change of position. It will be inconvenient for my colleague, but he will like the result.
“Come to me,” I ordered her as the time passed for her bottom to enjoy a rest. "Grab your ankles," I ordered her, enjoying the sight of her stretched, striped ass.
“Go to her and give her a list of rules.” Guard did so somewhat reluctantly, bending to her face.
"You can continue."
We both did. It was enough for Catherine to say: "Part of the prisoner's afternoon program is reserved for manual activities, and prisoner participation is compulsory” and I gave her another healing cane across her ass. However, I felt more like a conductor than a doctor. The movements of the rod in my hand made divine noises. Although Catherine limited herself to AAAEEIII!, it was an art to find places that wouldn't flow with red and purple welts, so I had to cut even parts where the delicate skin was already tearing. Our convict lasted eight strokes and then fell forward. Guard caught her and tried to intimidate her. How else than by violent slapping of that tortured behind? But she was already crying and unable to stand up.
"I think we'll finish it in a different position." Damn, she is such a pain to correct. I told the guard to put her back on the table. Meanwhile, I caressed those pretty legs, turned them up, and clamped them at the top of the ankles. I finally removed her panties. The guard held the woman firmly on the table, one hand on her shoulders and the other on her developed chest. I split the last eight strokes between the buttocks and thighs, with one stroke inadvertently ending up in her lap, which I now had a much better view of.
I thought Catherine was crying tears of happiness when she read the last rule, and I slashed her across both thighs with all my might.
It was difficult for her to leave my office, and she could not take the bottom part of the prison uniform. So I entertained the image of her being led to a cell with her ass and legs marked, singing some tune as she desperately tried to regain her sanity. The young lady will have to work hard to earn our trust and not have to sleep on her stomach.
I admit that I was always puffed up with pride when I saw envy in men's eyes. It always appeared there when I told them that I worked in a women's prison, and when I became the director there, I felt like an angel, like an ambassador of God. My predecessor was a super guy, but I always considered myself more careful when it came to figuring out ways to make imprisoned women suffer - especially the attractive ones. It was enough, and no one could prove to me how many guards they had to show themselves in all their beauty and masturbate on top of that, how much the new work schedules strained them, and how the luckiest guys could hit them, especially in places that the wenches didn't want to show anyone.
It was all made a little easier by the new legislation, according to which institutions such as schools, hospitals, and prisons could corporal punishment of their charges. In the case of the fairer sex, previously protected, it was recommended for them now. Science said they weren't as sensitive to pain anyway, and they were lifelong pranksters who needed to have their heads fixed often. In addition, we did not have to give them beatings only as a punishment or part of the interrogation but also simply as a "medical intervention". Well, it certainly benefited someone when my boys left the door open in the disciplinary room, and the whistle of straps, switches, birches, canes, and whips carried through the corridors, which drowned in the screaming of the bitches anyway.
Loud screaming of the bitches.
Yesterday, I had to reorganize a lot for today to receive a visitor, our new bird, at eleven. One of the guards was almost punctual. He didn't open the door until 10:59 and ushered in a shackled addition to our family. Right after a medical checkup.
Catherine Reacher still had remnants of self-confidence in her eyes, looking at me, trying to guess if I would do her favors. Excellent! A woman's pain is all the better when you can not only slice skin on her bottom or back but also shatter her hopes.
The new prisoner was wearing a white sweater and pink/purple pants. The guard behind her carried a folded orange uniform. She came this way for a good reason.
"Sit!" I roared at her and watched in delight as she opened her mouth and sat down on the chair, her handcuffed hands falling over the armrest.
"Miss Reacher, so you are the person who likes to do insurance frauds. I think we need to show you how we are doing it in our institution. You will learn our rules, and you must be honest and truthful. Stand up!"
The convicted fraudster stood up, shaking from tits to thighs. Far greater fear must have taken hold of her when I pulled out two things from under the table. Sheet of text and a long, thin cane.
"Uncuff her," I ordered the guard, who was more than happy to oblige. Catherine rubbed her wrist shortly, but my next instruction followed soon. "Undress and take the top of the uniform!"
Catherine froze. "In front of you two?" It was hard to understand her, but it was clear what she was asking.
"Of course! You have to show that you're not hiding anything from us, and what better way to do that than naked? Of course, we'll get something else out of it too.”
Catherine couldn't hold herself and fell. However, the guard already knew what to do. Helping her up, he offered her a few smacks on her trembling butt. She slipped out of his hands but immediately began to do my bidding. I felt the bulging of my cock as soon as she took off her pants, making the movements emphasize her hips and nice legs. The guard gave her another pat as she removed her sweater.
"Bra too. You'll get a new one soon anyway."
The pink bra soon ended up on the chair, like the previous pieces of clothing.
“Stand at attention with your hands behind your head.”
“Stand at attention with your hands behind your head.”
So for two minutes, the guard and I enjoyed looking at the beautiful, grand tits that contrasted with her otherwise slim figure. However, neither of us reached out. However, other joys await us, and she will enjoy a lot of pinching and squeezing in the following years. For now, let her cry in her naivety that this is the worst thing that could happen to her.
Catherine was now red with shame and orange from her shoulders to her waist. I placed the paper on the table´s edge in front of my chair and approached the woman, cane in my hand. She went several steps back when she heard its vibration, but I grabbed her wrist.
"Now you pull your panties down to your knees and lie across the table. There are rules for prisoners on the sheet. You read the first thirty-five, and after reading each of them, you receive a small souvenir, so you have something to think about and don't want to break the rules. "
Catherine sniffed a little. "If I'm going to be beaten anyway, the rules become meaningless."
So it's time to threats. "You came to us to learn something. Professional thrashing will teach you, even if it precedes a misdeed. If you want to know the real punishment, i.e. to introduce your back or tits to our whip, keep talking. Otherwise, start reading with your butt accepting what is coming to it."
She lowered her head to the ground. I think it was at that moment that the originally independent person became our prisoner. She confirmed this by taking the necessary steps forward and pulling down her green panties. It was clear she didn't want us to see her cunt, but one thing at a time.
My breath caught already the moment the proud female bent over the table and her firm ass arched on the edge. I poked the small of her back with the cane and then leaned it across her cheeks, preparing myself for the blow.
"Prisoners are supposed to wake up at 6:30" a.m. and go to sleep no later than 10 p.m. and be quiet at night."
You won't be quiet, my dear... I spread out my busy hand, and with a backward movement, I arranged for the rod to taste the fraudulent's ass.
"Ow!"
I started a little more gently, but Catherine was still twitching. It even looked like she was trying to get up. So I pushed her back, even slapped the spot on her bottom where the first red line was slowly starting to form, and enjoyed her squeal. She began studying the rules again, though her speech on further reading was less coherent.
"P-prisoners are expected to follow rules of personal hygiene!"
SWISH!
"AAAAAWWWW!"
I put a little more force into each blow, which we heard in the screams of the punished convict. She'd probably scream anyway. She's a little princess who was never even slapped, let alone spanked, and thats why she ended up here. We have to fix it now. We have a hard lot.
"No more, please. I will abide by it!"
She begged like this for the tenth stroke and started waving her hands over the table. I ordered the guard to hold them for her. Soon, she was whimpering almost as loudly from his grip as she was from her rapidly growing welts.
"You're not supposed to talk now, only read! You'll thank us for forgiving this backbiting, but we won't forgive you for the rest of the beating!"
"Pppprisoners are not supposed to engage in lesbian activity!"
SWISH!
SWISH!
Since she couldn't move her arms, she kicked her legs backward. To be honest when I stepped back a bit, I liked it. It made it easier for me to see what she hid from me, and in addition, the cane sometimes hit a little below the place I was targeting. It was also cute how her panties stretched and gradually slid down. A woman is perfectly complemented by her underwear but even better complemented by helplessness!
At the seventeenth stroke, I realized we were halfway through, and the blows probably merged to her. However, I had to admit I could still understand her despite swallowing an endless waterfall of tears.
"Break," I announced, but I was already thinking about how to make the second part special. Catherine needed to rest a bit so that she wouldn't either pass out or stop feeling the pain. I decided that after ten minutes of constant crying, she would benefit most from a change of position. It will be inconvenient for my colleague, but he will like the result.
“Come to me,” I ordered her as the time passed for her bottom to enjoy a rest. "Grab your ankles," I ordered her, enjoying the sight of her stretched, striped ass.
“Go to her and give her a list of rules.” Guard did so somewhat reluctantly, bending to her face.
"You can continue."
We both did. It was enough for Catherine to say: "Part of the prisoner's afternoon program is reserved for manual activities, and prisoner participation is compulsory” and I gave her another healing cane across her ass. However, I felt more like a conductor than a doctor. The movements of the rod in my hand made divine noises. Although Catherine limited herself to AAAEEIII!, it was an art to find places that wouldn't flow with red and purple welts, so I had to cut even parts where the delicate skin was already tearing. Our convict lasted eight strokes and then fell forward. Guard caught her and tried to intimidate her. How else than by violent slapping of that tortured behind? But she was already crying and unable to stand up.
"I think we'll finish it in a different position." Damn, she is such a pain to correct. I told the guard to put her back on the table. Meanwhile, I caressed those pretty legs, turned them up, and clamped them at the top of the ankles. I finally removed her panties. The guard held the woman firmly on the table, one hand on her shoulders and the other on her developed chest. I split the last eight strokes between the buttocks and thighs, with one stroke inadvertently ending up in her lap, which I now had a much better view of.
I thought Catherine was crying tears of happiness when she read the last rule, and I slashed her across both thighs with all my might.
It was difficult for her to leave my office, and she could not take the bottom part of the prison uniform. So I entertained the image of her being led to a cell with her ass and legs marked, singing some tune as she desperately tried to regain her sanity. The young lady will have to work hard to earn our trust and not have to sleep on her stomach.
