A Halloween Prisoner

"Ou-mhm-ch Carm-mhm, th-mhm hurts-mhm!"

Jennifer was on the third kilometer of her 5K run. Sweat dripped down her arms; her entire costume smelled of workout. She was far off her personal best; her body wasn't as fit as it used to be, but the handcuffs and spankings probably played a role as well.

*Whap* *Whap*

Yes, the spankings. The damn spankings. Carmen's spankings were relentless. Every single time Jennifer even teased slowing down, the riding crop found its target: her left buttock. Only her left. Carmen either had religious differences with right buttocks or simply couldn't be bothered to lean in a few more inches. Regardless, her left buttock was probably as pink as a peach, her right buttocks absolutely ordinary.

But Carmen was hardly Jennifer's worst nightmare.

Amara. That bitch. When Amara had informed Jennifer that she'll be mandated to take a one minute break between kilometers, Jennifer was thankful. She really thought that the desi girl, dressed in that sexy prison guard outfit, was showing some mercy. Little did she know Amara's real plan.

Simply put, each kilometer came with a new twist. For the first lap, Jennifer had to wear handcuffs in the front. On the second, the handcuffs were moved to behind her back. She quickly became acquainted with why real police officer's restrain suspects that way. On the third lap, Amara teased--just teased--putting Jennifer in leg irons. Even Carmen thought that was overkill. So, instead, Amara let off Jennifer easy ... if easy meant a big, orange bit-gag.

*Whap*

"It-mhm hu-mhm-rt's!" begged Jennifer, translated to it hurts.

"What's that?" said Carmen laughing. "You want more encouragement?"

Carmen wasn't even being coy. She ended up spanking Jennifer's ass three times--finally on the right cheek. Jennifer regretted complaining about it--each fresh spank hit the moister side of her butt, rocketeer sweaty mist into the air.

*Beep* *Beep* *Beep*

Finally! Jennifer had reached the end of the third kilometer. But she still had two more to go, and she was really starting to tire. At least there was one thing to look forward to--no gag.

As promised, Amara removed the gag from Jennifer's teeth. Her saliva had drooled all over the treadmill mat throughout the previous lap. Amara couldn't stop giggling at her prisoner's predicament; Jennifer couldn't stop glaring at her jailer's glee.

"At least that was my best lap," said Jennifer, eyeing the time.

"My encouragement helped," said Carmen smiling.

"I beg to differ."

*Whap* *Whap* Carmen wasn't fond of criticism or debate.

Jennifer was terrified of whatever Amara had coming up. Not a chance the South Asian beauty was going to let Jennifer off easy for the last two laps.

"Take off your top," ordered Amara, her tone firm.

Jennifer blinked. "What."

"Take. off. your. top."

Jennifer took one glimpse at Carmen's whip, sighed, and pulled off her black and white striped running uniform top, her magnificent breasts sweatily shining under the room's light.

Amara, producing a mischievous grin, produced two pasties that she peeled and stuck to Jennifer's nipples. The whole experience of Amara touching her breasts felt so foreign but also ... good? Jennifer felt a strange sensation whisk from her breasts, down her spine, to her vulva.

Just as the rest of the night had gone thus far ... there weren't ordinary nipple pasties. Because, of course, that would've been too boring. Instead, Amara had stuck the most humiliating pasties that Jennifer could've ever imagined. Their bases were no wider than three inches, enough surface area to securely latch onto her breast and areolas. The bases were plain white, but from the centers stuck out a little stick, and hanging from that stick was a flag. Both flags were white with black text stamped onto them, each reading "INMATE".

Amara gave Jennifer's butt a playful squeeze after she'd finished propping up the pasties, smiling greedily.

"How ..." started Jennifer. "How do you think of these things?"

"Oh, I'm not done," said Amara.

"I know ... I've one more lap after--"

"I mean with this lap." Amara revealed a tiny chain with little hooks on either end. At the center of the chain was a metal plate with the number--Jennifer's prisoner number--298192--embossed onto it. Amara proceeded to clip the ends of the chain to the bases of both flags, such that the number hung between her two breasts. The whole display felt humiliating to Jennifer.

"Granted," said Amara. "Now with your number displayed proudly up there, we don't have much need for these race bibs." She peeled off the bibs from Jennifer's body, the adhesives coming cleanly off from the lubrication of Jennifer's sweat. Jennifer was glad about that--Amara had spared her of one measure of humiliation.

"Thanks," said Jennifer. "Those were stupid."

Amara scoffed. "Stupid?" Carmen appeared ready to whack her, but Amara held out her hand. "No, there is a punishment for such insubordination far more suitable than a spanking."

Amara crumpled up the race bibs, which were incredibly moist from Jennifer's sweat. She proceeded to make a ball out of them, then, pinching Jennifer's nose, plopped the sweaty lump into her mouth and fixed the ballgag back on.

Amara squeezed her butt afterwards tenderly, whispering, "I can tell you're enjoying this, but let's not forget that you are my prisoner."

Jennifer nearly came hearing that statement alone.