Chapter 12
The Science of Abuse
Daphne Maxwell and Hector Ceballos rose from the leather sofa as a young woman in prison uniform walked into the reception foyer. Pamela Clayton strode across the pristine white tiles with a firm athletic tread that reminded Daphne of Rosa Ortiz. The uniform of tight skirt, white blouse and dark blue tie was not as revealing or as tempting as Rosa's outfit of black boots and skin tight grey leggings, but Daphne noted her ample breasts and broad shoulders. Carmel had often spoken of her chief guard, the woman who orchestrated the schedule of pain, degradation and humiliation that ensured The Foundation transformed whores, drug dealers and criminals into convict bondage whores, ready and able for every possible indignity.
"Judge Maxwell, Senor Ceballos, thank you for finding the time to visit us. I know that you have both taken a keen interest in our work here. I'm sorry that Miss De Bois is not available today, but she asked me to show you Dr Cartwright's excellent work in our infirmary."
"I completely understand. I never work on my birthday."
Hector noticed the lingering handshake between the two women, and realised why Carmel had chosen her birthday, a day when she would be absent from work, to invite Maxwell to visit the breast augmentation clinic. He decided to help.
"Carmel speaks so highly of your work, Miss Clayton. She told me only last week that, without you, we would be six months behind our timetable."
Clayton only offered her guests a modest smile as she led them into the prison.
They passed a prisoner squatting on a plinth, driving her anus into a wide wooden plug set into the concrete block.
"What is your crime, whore?"
"I was last out of the yard after mealtime, Mistress Clayton," the prisoner gasped, breathless from repeatedly impaling herself on the stick that, Daphne noticed, was smeared with juices and traces of blood.
"So, for punishment they asked you to sit here and gently nudge yourself like a grandmother on a Sunday afternoon."
"No, Mistress, please." The pace of the anal hammering increased as Clayton ran her baton along the open thighs of the prisoner.
"Faster, bitch." The prisoner unleashed a frenzied pounding against the plug, almost reaching the concrete base with her buttocks as she grasped her breasts to massage the nipples, reaching down to lick the hardened skin. She turned to the two visitors.
"Please, kind Sir, kind Mistress, I'm begging you. Ask Mistress Clayton not to punish me, please." She panted out a promise to lick the judge's pussy and suck the cock of Senor Ceballos if they would plead her case. Ceballos cast a swift glance at Clayton, and she gave him a brief nod.
"Are you a complete slut?" Ceballos asked.
"I am, kind Sir. I deserve to be abused. I was late, and I'm sorry. I promise it won't happen again. Please don't let Mistress Clayton torture my sore pussy."
They agreed to leave the girl on the plinth to ravage her anus for another hour, Hector declining her gracious offer of fellatio. They discussed the prisoner's breasts as she bounced on the plinth, Daphne being greatly impressed with their shape and consistency. Pamela mentioned that the backside had also been altered and the prisoner removed herself from the pole to show her reshaped buttocks to her guests before mounting her spike to continue her ordeal.
"Do you notice that she was abusing herself without a guard? She's been conditioned to accept her pathetic role. She wanted to avoid an electric shock from my baton, but she does not ask to avoid two hours of anal torture for being the last from the yard after lunch."
"Is that why you didn't hit her, because she was doing as she was told?"
"Judge Maxwell, you understand our work so well. She would only be punished if she had stopped altogether, but she was ravaging herself even though she did not see us. You can also see that she is neither bound nor gagged. We only use restraint in the early phases or when we wish to demean and degrade them before visitors, who usually like to see our subjects in chains." She stroked the prisoner's hair as she panted on the plinth. "The occasional warning and reminder of our power is all that is necessary. She has now learnt the lesson not to be slow from the yard and to be energetic when punishing her holes, even when no one is present." Pamela only needed to tap her baton on the plinth for the captive to heighten the length and speed of her strokes. "Our prisoners are often required to abuse themselves, or abuse other prisoners. It is a question of control rather than simply inflicting pain. However, we need to demonstrate that we can impose pain or discomfort. That is one of the reasons why so much of our treatment involves anal penetration. Anal sex is painful for most women and offers them little chance of sexual release." Daphne asked for the prisoner to rub her clitoris, and she immediately reached between her lips to stroke herself, moaning with delight with every caress.
"It is a question of maintaining a consistent, dedicated and persistent approach. The methods must be systematic and measured, and you must never lose your temper. You must show virtually no interest in them. You only abuse them to exploit their bodies for financial gain. That is the objective of The Foundation. This woman is no more than a piece of meat. She is three holes and a pair of breasts to be used by paying customers. The subject must learn that their value rests on their sexual performance."
"Subject?" Daphne questioned the word.
"You need to adopt a scientific approach if you wish to transform these subjects into willing bondage whores, able to perform all forms of degrading and painful sexual acts."
"You have no interest in abusing them without just cause?"
"No. The purpose is to make them shameless. As you can see and you heard earlier, they have no dignity. She begged you to help her avoid a single dose of this electric baton. There is virtually no disgrace too great for them."
"Is there anything you would not do?" Hector asked.
"I have my limits, Senor Ceballos. Others, well, some others do not. I cannot claim to be perfect, and I have ... occasionally indulged myself, but I like to keep my working day and my leisure time separate. Once my work here is done, I am quite willing to take one of the subjects and ... entertain myself. Let's leave this whore to her ... therapy and find Dr Cartwright."
The door from the courtyard opened into a large darkened room with four sets of stocks set beside a large table. A nurse dressed in a short blue dress with a white cap and apron emerged from the darkness at the back of the room. Neither her stare not her silence welcomed her guests and an awkward moment ensued until Dr Cartwright, a short woman in her early forties with a sweep of auburn hair and hazel eyes behind her glasses, appeared from her office to eagerly greet her visitors and offer them a tour of her dismal laboratory.
"We have four booths to treat prisoners, but usually we just administer two doses at a time." She wheeled out a trolley holding a large black machine smothered in tubes attached to bottles of green liquid. She removed two metal discs to reveal two hubs, each with two rings of needles radiating out from a large spike.
