The soft click of the door unlocking woke her. Then the room flooded with light, and she screwed her eyes shut against the glare, rolling her head into the hard pillow and pulling the single thin blanket tight around her neck. Her back ached, her head ached, and she felt bruised all over. She tensed, realising she was naked apart from that one blanket. She heard footsteps – heavy, slow tread of a big person – and deep, slow breathing. He stopped by the head of the bed, and she jumped as a large, warm hand clasped her shoulder, shaking her gently. She yelped in pain, and he stopped, then sat on the side of the bed, his weight sinking it down so she had to brace against rolling towards him.
‘You’re awake. What’s hurting?’ The voice was hardly more than a whisper, but deep and rich, a voice that reminded her of gentle, huge ocean swells spending themselves on a slow-shelving beach.
His hand was still on her shoulder, warm and heavy.
‘My back hurts’ she whispered. As if to prove her words, another shaft of pain shot up from her pelvis, and she gasped and tensed against it.
‘Hey, gently, gently. Come on, relax.’ His hand moved, slowly, stroking down her spine, feeling the muscles bunched tight each side of her spine. The pain eased, and she relaxed a little, leaning against his strong fingers as they worked on her.
‘That’s it. Good girl.. just relax. Let it go.’
He moved, turning around so he could get both hands onto her back, and she shivered as he took the blanket out of her grip, pulling it down to expose her torso.
‘Easy now, girl. Easy. Not going to hurt you.’ His arms were bare, thickly haired, and the soft pelt felt good on her skin. He was using his forearms now, pressing gently on her back, stretching out her spine – as the pressure increased, she felt something ‘give’ deep inside her spine, with an audible crunch - immediately, the nagging pain stopped, and as he lifted his arms slowly off her, she breathed deeply for the first time in days.
‘It’s stopped.’ She said in surprise.
He chuckled, a deep sound that made her smile in automatic response.
‘Good. Thought that’d do it, either ease it or snap your back completely. You’re a big strong lass, a lot of muscle to have in spasm like that. Can you move now?’
She heaved herself around gingerly, clutching the blanket under her chin. He was, indeed , huge – a big, dark-haired mountain of a man, with enormous hands now resting on his thighs. He was dressed as they all were, in the black uniform of the guards, but she had a powerful impression of him wearing that authority lightly, as if it was almost incidental to his power.
She sat up, her back flinching from the cold painted wall of the cell, huddling under her inadequate cover.
‘You’re cold.’ He rumbled, frowning, and she nodded, shivering.
He took off his jacket and put it around her shoulders, his hands warm on her cold flesh. It was huge, like being engulfed in a great bear-hug, and she gave him a small, careful smile.
‘Thank you. I don’t know where my clothes are.’
‘Taken away for examination. They’ll be returned to you in due course. Are you hungry?’
She nodded, then hesitated.
‘I – I need to use a toilet.’
He glanced away, and she wondered if he was embarrassed.
‘It’s over there. I won’t look.’ She looked at the far corner of the cell, and there was indeed a toilet, half-screened by a low wall.
She stood up slowly, and he moved to allow her past – even in his shirtsleeves he was an imposing figure. She did her business – flushing with shame as he stood, gazing out of the single high window – then, tucking the blanket sarong-style around herself, returned to sit huddled on the bed.
He sat on the bed again, moving easily in spite of his size, and she realised that the bulk was muscle and bone, not fat. His dark, curly hair was short, and heavy brows jutted out over deep brown eyes that seemed to look straight into her mind. A broad, broken nose, and a mouth with sensually curved lips, but held in a severe straight line, and a heavy, determined jaw and chin, combined to show her a warrior, someone accustomed to conflict and heavy fighting, but still held under firm discipline.
He gazed at her, the woman allotted to him, and felt pleased with his bargaining. Not young, not slim, but strongly built and curvy, with deep generous hips and big, full breasts, her long tangled hair lay in dark curls on her shoulders, and her blue eyes looked at him with wary interest. She’d been in a lot of pain, until he released her back spasm, but now she was huddled up, trying to cover herself with that wretched blanket, still cold in spite of his jacket around her shoulders. She looked oddly appealing – the jacket was so huge on her, and her soft, clear skin almost glowed in the harsh light of the cell, in spite of the grime covering her.
He knew what he had to do, what they’d be expecting him to do, and he had no choice – to divert from orders was to invite disgrace, even at his rank.
‘Do you know why you’re here?’ he asked, and she shook her head.
‘You’ve been brought in to perform a – service. It’s a privilege. You - should be pleased to be selected.’
She dropped her eyes, and he knew she understood. He dared not say any more, but when he reached out to take the blanket from her, he gripped her cold hand briefly, and mouthed the words, ‘I’m sorry.’
She shook her head, her eyes dark with fear, but there was no more he could do. Already he was behind time, and he set his mouth hard, then ripped the blanket from her, and roughly pulled her down onto the bed.
She whimpered in fear as he held her down, one huge hand pressing onto her stomach, and he felt the firmness of her tensed muscles as he unzipped his fly, bringing out his cock. Even limp it was an impressive length, and as he stroked it the blood pumped in, bringing him to an erection that she watched with amazement.
‘I – I can’t, it’s too big’ she whimpered, but he dared not stop now.
‘Spread your legs, bitch. You’ll take it.’ He said in a loud, clear voice, and glanced up to the corner of the room where the camera was concealed. She followed his glance, then looked at his face, and he risked a brief nod.
Obediently, she opened her legs, and winced as his fingers explored her crack. He took her hand and placed it on his cock, and she gripped it, her fingers hardly able to meet around it. Then she moaned softly, and he realised she was becoming aroused, even in this god-awful place. Quickly, he lowered his trousers, and her hand caressed his genitals, sweeping down the shaft of his cock and cupping his heavy testicles, then back up, her fingers expertly teasing the sensitive hood. A drop of lubrication oozed out, and she gasped as he moved his hand from her cunt, now wet and open, to her breasts, pinching and rolling the dark red, erect nipples as he moved onto her, his huge body covering hers. She arched up against him as he played with her nipples, and guided the tip of his cock against her cunt. The electricity was amazing – she couldn’t wait to have him plunging deep inside her, stretching and filling her hungry cunt. He growled and thrust against her, missing at first, but then she held herself open for him, and he plunged in, and she moaned with the intensity of it.
‘Sorry’ he whispered, and she moaned again.
‘No, it’s wonderful. Oh god, it’s wonderful’, and she squirmed and clenched tight around his pole with her cunt muscles, making him shudder in delight. He’d chosen well – this woman, too dowdy and fat to appeal to the others, was a sensual, powerful bitch, hungry for a good fuck, and well capable of taking his tool.
As he settled into the rhythm of thrusting, she rose to meet him, her legs winding around his thighs, holding him close – within seconds they were both moaning and gasping for breath, then with a great shuddering cry he climaxed, spurting deep into her welcoming cunt, and he felt her flowering and gripping around him, in her own release.
He fell down onto her, shaking and unable to support himself on his arms. She held him close, her mouth soft and warm on his shoulder, kissing him and burying her face against his flesh.
‘Oh, that was glorious.’ She whispered, then gasped as he managed a few last deep thrusts before he slid out of her, soft and damp. She held him there, revelling in the weight of a powerful male body on her, but he pulled away after a minute, and covered her quickly with the blanket. She was damp with their combined sweat and love juices, and he stroked the curling hair off her forehead, and then stood up to dress and get back to his duties.
‘I’ll make sure your clothes are returned to you this morning. You’ll be expected to do a few jobs around the place. You won’t be harmed.’ She realised this was for the benefit of those watching, and nodded, trying not to smile.
He left her then… and shortly afterwards, another guard appeared with her clothes in an untidy bundle. She washed herself, shivering in the cold air, then dressed quickly, grateful for the warmth of woollen stockings, petticoats, overskirt, and thick jacket. Over her hair she tied her black wool scarf, concealing the long, shining curls. All black, all rather old, definitely in need of a wash, very unflattering, but practical and warm. And underneath the familiar roughness, she glowed and pulsed with the after-shocks of his lovemaking.
She was taken, with the other women, to the kitchens and laundry of the station, and set to work preparing food. There were other women there, already – some heavily pregnant, all working in near-silence, keeping a wary eye on the guards supervising them. One woman was resentful, obviously new, and started talking loudly about ‘slave labour’ and being raped… in spite of the warning pinches and hushings from the more experienced women, she kept on, then turned and addressed the guard directly. He was a tall, slim man, with a dark face and cold eyes, and he acted swiftly, in what was obviously a well-practised routine.
He went up to her, where she was chopping onions, took the knife from her hand, bent her forward over the chopping block, and ripped her skirt up the back, exposing her bare thighs and bottom. She wriggled and squealed, but he merely slapped her over the head, then undid his flies and fucked her from behind, thrusting brutally up into her cunt. When he’d finished he slapped her buttocks, hard, and then hauled her upright by her hair. She had chopped onions sticking to her face and front, tears streaming down her cheeks, and was flushed deep red with humiliation. The guard gave her back the chopping knife, and she stood there for the rest of the morning, chopping onions, her torn skirt exposing her bottom to everyone. The other women averted their eyes from the sight of the red hand-print on her buttocks, and the slime slick on her thighs, but the guards passing by all looked and laughed, joking with the kitchen guard about his methods of control.
