EXTRACT 1

 

"Yes!"

Penny gave a fist pump. She'd won!

"You deserve it." Her attorney told her, shaking her hand.

Penelope Dix had just won over 90 percent of her husband's assets in their divorce settlement. The philandering bastard could run away and leave her, he could fuck off and set up with his slut mistress, but he couldn't take his fat bank account with him. Oh no. Even in 2025, there was still justice to be had!

"And what are you going to do now?"

"I'm going to go on a long vacation somewhere." Penny smiled at her legal team. "And think about how to spend the rest of my life."

After all, she was still only 39, no kids, and no ties. She'd dedicated her adult life to one person, her bastard ex-husband, Negan Dix. Well, she was still going to dedicate her life to one person, but somebody else.

Herself.

 

***

 

Giles strode to the head of the queue.

He passed a long column of half-naked laborers who were patiently shuffling forwards to use what were amusingly known on the Farm as 'The Facilities'.

This particular facility - Hut Number Two - was one of 8 identical concrete huts scattered around the West Hills acreage. They were simple structures built using breeze blocks, cement and wooden batons. There was a painted sign over the entrance with 'Hut 2' on it and those washroom-style 'male' and 'female' silhouettes below.

But some joker had scrawled graffiti in brown spray paint over the male and female shapes saying 'animals.' Naturally, all of the facilities were mixed gender.

Giles had designated Hut Number Two for the sole use of 'newer arrivals'. It was conveniently located for him to keep a close eye on. Newer arrivals were defined as those female and male laborers still serving the first couple of months of their sentences; those who were still getting used to life without privacy, let alone proper bathrooms.

His design was a single open-plan space that contained 10 toilets. There were no cubicles, or even side-partitions, and there were no toilet seats or toilet paper. The pans themselves looked more like bidets and they faced each other in two rows of five.

 

EXTRACT 2

 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please help yourselves to champagne or, if you prefer, an elderflower cordial?"

Millie adored her job. She was 23yrs old and a volunteer on PC9 having studied Biology and Social Studies at uni. Thanks to her mixed ethnicity, bubbly character and outgoing manner, she'd been selected as a hostess and guide. Many visitors to the 'Resort' enjoyed a guided tour of the 'Farm' as part of their weekend's entertainment.

She'd already shown today's group around the perfectly manicured fields and grasslands, the barns and storage, fresh crops and shiny vegetables, the grazing animals and bounteous grains. Every single guest who saw the Farm was amazed by its perfection.

They'd also seen the workforce that made such old-fashioned husbandry viable, the half-naked laborers toiling under a warm sun, and the demanding overseers who made it all happen.

Of course, the guests had already dined in the exceptional restaurants of the Resort, such as 6-star "La Velvetero", the gourmet "Delicioso", and the outdoor "Al Fresco" with its nightly entertainments, perhaps followed by a nightcap at "The Cock and Tail".

Everything was unlimited and free. These Farm tours provided the visiting dignitaries with reassurance about their food's provenance and it also gave them a small peek behind the scenes of Penal Colony life.

Millie watched the group of 12 guests knocking back glasses of imported champagne. The Colony made its own sparkling wine but it gave a better impression if actual French stuff was served.

A total of twenty four guests had come on the earlier 'Farm Tour', split into two groups. One group of a dozen had headed back to their hotels when the tour ended, having expressed no interest in learning about the prisoners' sustenance.

But this, second group, were keen to understand more. They were a typical bunch; multi-hued and a range of ages, some here alone, some as couples. There were 6 women and 6 men.

"More champagne? How about a canapé?" Millie asked.

A topless prisoner was handing round a tray of delicious hors d'oeuvres. Her specially-designed tray had a strap that went round her neck, and clips that attached to her nipples. This meant both of her hands were free to hold and serve bottles of chilled champagne.

The official smiled at Millie and helped himself to a large slice of Colony lobster.

"And who's this?" he smirked at the waitress.

Millie knew the names and titles of every guest, as well as any interests that they'd chosen to download before their visit. Some opted to reveal little. Some sent her long - and even shocking - bucket lists.

"Answer the gentleman." Millie snapped. "Full details!"

"Eleanor, sir. I am 28. Married. Serving State's Pleasure for my husband and I being intolerably rich, sir."

"Excellent. What did you both do?"

"He was a landowner, sir. Disgusting inherited wealth. I'm afraid I was naïve and fell in love with him and we married 3 years ago."

Millie smiled at Ged Monk. The official was 52 and apparently something called a GDPR in a government department. Millie knew the acronym stood for a 'Guidance Decision Process Reviewer' but not exactly what the job entailed. It had to be important though.

"And where is he now, this slimeball husband?"

"I don't know, sir. We've been here over a year now and I haven't seen him again since the day we arrived. I think he was sentenced to work in a Factory."

"Turn around." Mr. Monk said. He was balding, with neat silver hair and beard, and bright eyes. He reminded Millie of that militant leader from a few years ago she'd forgotten the name of.

"What a delicious backside."

Eleanor was wearing only a pleated mini-skirt and leather sandals. Her bare back and legs were tanned and perfect, with 0 3 2 0 6 9 F P C 9 freshly tattooed in black along the base of her spine. She was still holding the two bottles of champagne.

Mr. Monk raised her skirt and winked questioningly at Millie.

She smiled, understanding his wink. Mr. Monk's bucket list had been overly long but he'd prioritized a couple of things. Eleanor would be as good as anybody else available.

"I'm sure Eleanor is flattered you think so. Aren't you?"

"I'm honored. Thank you, sir."

Although only a volunteer, Millie had carte blanche over the team of prisoners at her disposal. She could do whatever she wished with the ex-landowner's 28yr old wife.

"Would you like Eleanor delivered to your hotel later, sir?" Millie asked. "Or would you prefer to spend a little time with her here?"

The official smiled, his bright eyes beaming. He used his thumb and finger to expose Eleanor's puckered anus.

"She looks nice and clean?"

Millie smiled back at him. "Oh, indeed she will be. When was your last enema?"

"An hour ago, Miss ... Sir"

Mr. Monk slid his fingers between her thighs to check her hairless pussy as well. He seemed satisfied with his own Decision Process Review.

"Well," he said to Millie, "I don't think bringing her to my hotel's necessary. It's not as if the cunt is that pretty. But I think that a little AOB agenda item just before we finish up here might be worth ten minutes of my time?"

"And ... hic ... mine."

The other guests were milling around in small groups and a couple of them had latched onto Millie's conversation. A jowly man who was clearly half-drunk was helping himself to some caviar off Eleanor's tray. He hiccupped again.

Millie smiled at him accommodatingly. He was exceptionally ugly with long strands of greasy hair combed over his bald head, several days of stubble and crooked teeth.

"Of course. The more the merrier. You don't object do you Mr. Monk?"

"Couldn't give a flying fuck after I'm done."

"Great, because it's been a while since Eleanor enjoyed any affection at all, I think?"

"Yes, Miss. Thirty seven days, Miss."

"Fucking ... hic ... hell." The ugly man laughed. He was wearing a colorful Hawaiian shirt and baggy shorts. "Bitch must be gagging for it."

Millie nodded, patting Eleanor's ass. "Oh, I'm certain she is." Then she looked around the room. "And speaking of gagging, it's time to start our 'Noshing Time' entertainment."

 

END OF EXTRACTS