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A brand new story from the ruthless pen of author Procter Baldwin.
FROM THE BOOK...
Jacinta found herself pushed against the same mestiza she had been forced to sit next to in the truck, found herself staring at the girls long black hair. Her naked breasts, the nipples standing prominently in the open air, pressed against the objectionable half-breed girls arms.
At her involuntary touch the girl turned her head, and Jacinta could see her lovely eyes, and the full lips around the heavy gag. She looked away quickly, as far as the tight collar of the snatch-stick would allow, unwilling to meet the other ones gaze.
"Face front, you two," growled the man who held the snatch-stick.
When Jacinta strained to look at him, he squeezed the trigger on the snatch-stick, and Jacinta felt the collar tighten around her throat, and continue to tighten until she faced the front. Another soldier pushed her chin up and fastened a collar around her neck. He snapped a chain to the ring of the collar, then moved the hair of the mestiza out of the way to link the chain to the back of her collar.
The snatch-stick was released, and Jacinta once more could breath easier. Again she tried to look around, and again someone yelled, "Face front, slut!"
In any case she could see little of where they were: the side of the truck, a high wall lined with spikes and the blue sky above, that was all. It didnt matter. Jacinta knew well enough where that bitch Ana Sandoval had brought her - Comandante Sandoval, as she styled herself!
A uniformed female guard was going down the line. Jacinta could see her now, checking the collars on each girl, checking their bonds. It was hot standing there in the sun, but she was taking her time, coolly appraising each girl. She moved the hair of the mestiza in front and tugged on the chain with her slender fingers. She gripped a bunch of Jacintas hair and pulled back her head, then tested the chain on the front of her collar. Jacinta looked her in the face. She was a pretty, dark-haired girl, with peasants eyes. A shop-girl, thought Jacinta. Not all her becoming uniform, her little forage cap perched on her head, her tan shirt, her tight brown skirt, even the coiled whip under her arm, none of it could change that. A common shop-girl.
The young woman gazed contemptuously back at her. Jacinta felt her hand slide over her breasts, and feel them appraisingly. She smiled with a look of disdain. "I shall look forward to you," she said.
All around them the soldiers stood watching, grinning with delight and making coarse comments. "Which ones for you?" - "The little Indian, third from the front." - "Sure shed make a good fuck, but what about the mestiza, that one about half way down with the big tits." - "Yeah, you bet. Just as soon as the Generalísimos finished with her, shes for me." - "After me, amigo. After me." - "Trust the sargento to pull rank!"
The female Guardia gave an order. "Move forward." She uncoiled the long whip and cracked it skillfully, so loud that Jacinta thought for an instant that it had actually struck her.
The line moved forward, awkwardly. The Mouse fell against Jacinta, half tripping her up. The whip cracked again. This time it did strike her, stinging the side of her ass-cheek, where her panties did not protect her. She shrieked behind her gag, and threw the Guardia a glance full of venom. The Guardia flicked her wrist and snapped the whip skillfully against Jacintas thighs. "Face forward, Señorita," she said. "Face forward and save your skin."
They passed through a heavy door into the building. They stumbled, falling against each other every few steps, along a narrow stone-clad corridor. They heard the heavy door slam behind them. Then the chains of a portcullis rattle, and the barrier itself rumble down. They were inside the Generalísimoss private prison. And nothing could save them now.
They passed an open door. Not one of them could avoid looking inside the brightly lit chamber. Not one of them could avoid the sight of two naked women, their arms pulled high above their heads, standing on tiptoe, their bodies striped with lash-marks. Nor a third girl, bent forward, her arms pulled up vertically behind her and roped to a ceiling hook. Nor yet the bulky soldier who stood behind her, his pants at half-mast, thrusting his huge cock vigorously into her ass-hole.
Shocked, they entered a bigger room. It was stone clad. On its stone walls were rows of rings; from its ceiling hung rows of chains. A half-dozen uniformed soldiers stood around waiting. The long chain moved forward. Then, as each one entered the room a soldier disconnected her from the girl behind and one by one the collars of the girls were hooked up to one of the dangling chains. Hooked up so that they stood on the very tip of their toes, so that the chains pressed against their faces and pushed their heads to one side.
Jacinta found herself dragged forward, just one more girl amongst all the rest, hooked up by a soldier who scarcely took any notice of her, only matter-of-factly hooking her up like a sack of grain, and going back for the next in line.
She could see the others, hitched up just like her, half-gasping for breath, more of them in tears than ever. They drooled from their gags, and their half-torn clothes looked a sorry sight. Jacinta supposed she must look the same, half-naked and half-exposed.
But not for long. The Sargento strode in, accompanied by the Guardia. After a quick glance to see that all was in order, he gave the command: "Strip them."
Jacintas stomach clenched with real fear. She had expected no less, but all the same she was unprepared for it. Shed heard the women were kept naked in their cells. Shed heard many things. The nightmare was coming true...
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