Read Online Condemned to Slavery by Bruce McLachlan - Free Book Online

spat the woman, raising her palm threateningly to make her captive cower in anticipation of another offensive.
    Lydia nodded softly, trying to stroke her throbbing cheek onto her shoulder, her arms still locked under her felled body. She tried to shield herself from any more abuse but bound as she was, and sprawled on the floor, there was no way she could defend herself from the harridans.
    The woman spitefully ground the heel into Lydia’s chest, digging into the skin and making her scowl and squirm under the pinning foot.
    “I asked if you understand, Ramera?”
    “Yes, yes, I understand,” she winced.
    The pressure increased, threatening to snap her ribs as her mouth dropped open and she tightly closed her eyes, gasping for breath under the sudden extra pain.
    “I understand, Mistress . Now say it properly before I crush you underfoot like the maggot you are.”
    “Yes Mistress, I understand, Mistress,” she rambled hastily.
    “Good. Now shut up and lay there while we process you.”
    With her identity given, the guards diverted their attention to filling in the papers, guessing her height and weight and detailing her appearance and the circumstances of her arrival and incarceration.
    Once the questions were answered, the receptionist rummaged in a sack and handed over a stout leather collar, like those she had seen upon the other prisoners without, revealing that it was no mark of punishment but a standard piece of attire. Fingers locked into her hair and yanked back, exposing her neck so that the other guard might thread the implement around her throat, tighten its twin buckles to a snug fit and then padlock them in place.
    “Que es su humero?” inquired the viper at the desk.
    The guard behind her twisted further back, making her roots shriek as she grimaced and strove to endure the derogation. The guard before her cupped her chin and lifted up, examining the small plate riveted to the side of the collar.
    “Seis-uno-nueve-dos,” she announced, the receptionist entering her serial code and then slotting the papers into a folder before handing it to the guards.
    “I think that is everything. Take her up to the Warden for the standard welcoming speech. She is expecting you,” came the accented English reply, the woman at the desk leaning back and granting her a wicked knowing smirk.
    The women yanked Lydia to her feet and drew her onwards and onto a set of ascending stairs. After quickly clearing three floors they stopped at a metal gate where another guard on the opposite side sat behind a small desk, reading a book.
    “New prisoner to see the Warden,” one of them declared rigidly.
    Without further need of explanation the guard slipped in a mark to keep her page and wandered around to open the gate. After granting ingress she closed the reinforced portal behind them and returned to her position.
    The corridor was cool and fragrant, the stink of sweat and moisture having been eradicated by strategically placed overhead fans that turned slowly, carrying a soothing breeze through the passages.
    Turning a corner she found herself staring at a dead end, a polished mahogany door at the end bearing a gold plaque, the words Warden Folter embossed upon it in black. A bench lay to one side, flowing along the wall opposite to an alcove in which lay a small desk.
    A pale skinned woman sat at the table, her blonde hair tied back with a black ribbon, her slender physique dressed alarmingly in a latex dress. The plunging neckline revealed her cleavage in full, her breasts contained within sculpted cups. Despite this bizarre choice of attire she seemed a normal secretary, sitting quietly and browsing through several documents. A typewriter and potted plant adorned her desk, with a variety of files and cluttered office paraphernalia.
    Glancing up at the new arrivals she returned to her work, completely at peace with Lydia’s nakedness and the marks of ill treatment.
    “New prisoner, the Warden’s expecting us,”