Congress established the American Penal Colonies in 2025...four Caribbean islands to hold two million U.S. convicts. The big reason was money, the country was broke and unwilling to pay fifty-grand a year to lock up a convict, but Americans were also fed up with 70% of all inmates returning to jail within three years. The plan was simple: exile all convicts, men and women, to the islands and let them govern themselves...for better or worse, eliminating all parole, work-release, job training, education and other corrective-action programs.

Five years after its inception, President Teddy Callow, the father of the new law, declared it an unqualified success that had saved the country nearly one trillion dollars and reduced recidivism to less than 10%.

The press jumped on the story declaring the penal colonies "the greatest achievement in penal reform since the invention of prisons." Foreign governments joined in praising America's advanced thinking and talking about their own plans for prison islands. Liberal college professors went on TV to explain how the "Revolution in Penology" forced sociopaths to modify their behavior. Harvard even opened a new college called the School of Banishment Science to teach its core principles.

Of course there was some dissent.

An independent study by Guardian, a Swedish human-rights group, claimed that the reason recidivism was down was because the death rate had double. Further, they said, prisoners who fail to appear at the end of their sentence were simply counted as missing. They claimed that the colonies were being ruled by criminal predators who preyed on the weak; that the decision to intermix men and women, rather than foster normal relationships, had resulted in widespread female slavery and trafficking.

"This new American Gulag, with its absolute ban on visitation and inspection, is in the same league with the worst of the Nazis and the Soviets."

This strong rhetoric led to a well-rehearsed congressional hearing in which former exiles testified that life was "hard but fair" in the colony; that it forced them to take responsibility for themselves. "Being unconditionally separated from family and friends was a severe punishment," one former exile said through tears, "but the tough love I found on PC (Penal Colony) Dominica made me a better man."

His emotional testimony reinforced the public's view that all criminals were basically shiftless and that forcing them to care for themselves built character. The real death blow for any reform, however, came from the PRA (Penal Reform authority) Director himself who said:

"If the American public wants us to govern the colonies like prisons, we are going to need a lot more people and a lot more money," he said. "Our mission today is containment. We are no longer babysitting criminals. What happens inside the colony is the responsibility of the Prisoners' Council and the prisoners themselves not us."

"Look," he said leaning in towards the TV cameras, "we're talking about criminals, men and women who have attacked us, stolen from us, killed us, preyed on our children. We don't want them living among us any longer. If they can't learn to live with their own kind then..."

He left the rest unsaid.

Most Americans agreed. Even though there were probably terrible things happening in the penal colonies, they were only happening to criminals

.

Zoey

 

Master, if it pleases you,

 

My hands tremble as I kneel here in your chains. I struggle to gather my thoughts, to remember the details of my story. I am terrified that I will forget something and displease you, but I have no choice but to begin...

 

The following account, written at your order, tells of this slave's recent offense and her just punishment.

 

Before I begin, let me finally admit that my suffering is deserved. I lived selfishly for twenty years, believing the conceit that my beauty warranted adoration and attention. In a moment of blind conceit, I helped to commit a robbery in which someone was killed. I was exiled to Dominica and eventually abducted and sold into slavery. Even then my self-obsession continued as I sought unfair advantage over my sisters in bondage.

One day your stable-master took me off the coffle and chained me by my collar to a ceiling beam. My arms were belted behind at the elbows and wrists. He ran his hands along my body testing the firmness of my breasts, my mound, my ass. He fingered my nipples and flicked my clit. Then he kissed me long and hard on the mouth.

The bondage and his touch excited me in a way that I have never felt before but instead of responding honestly, I shied away, hiding the tremors, withholding my tongue. In effect, I deceived him. Instead of punishing me, he laughed generously forgiving me for my coldness then he began to harness me for a pony cart.

He carefully placed the leather over my head, the bit in my mouth, the belts around my narrow waist. With gentle care he greased the dildo-tail and pushed it slowly and lovingly up my ass then locked it in place with another belt he ran between my legs.

He was being kind and I knew it, but instead of feeling grateful, I felt rage, rage that someone would treat me so casually. Men have always catered to me. Even in my bondage, I expected the same. I wanted to have power over him, to command him, to fuck him on my own terms, to bend him to my will.

I now realize that this was the same perverse emotion that had brought me to this place, but at the time all I wanted was to make register my disapproval in a way that would be remembered and noticed by everyone.

He bent down and carefully pushed my bare foot inside the heavy hoof-like heel then did the same for the other foot. When he was finished he looked up and smiled running his hand soothingly up the inside of my naked leg. There was a tenderness in his touch that I could not abide--I wanted control over him not human consideration.

I lifted my long leg, cocking it at its highest point, and kicked him in the face with the heavy shoe.

Chaos erupted in the stable: blood was everywhere, men were shouting, slaves screaming, the place was reeking of fear and I felt...proud. Finally, I had demonstrated the power that rightfully belonged to me. Whatever the penalty, whatever the consequences, I knew that whoever touched me again would feel afraid. Once again, I was intimidating men!

You were summoned, but even then I wasn't afraid.

You stared into my eyes and you immediately understood that no common punishment would do in the face of such rage. Only an exorcism would allow me to survive in this place.

I expected to be whipped, perhaps even branded as a kicker. This was the normal punishment for such an offense. Instead, you had me put in a birdcage that closed tightly on my neck. My lower body was encased in metal bars, but my head was free.

I was delivered to your room and the cage hung from the ceiling a few feet off the ground. A ball gag was put in my mouth. Later, you came and sat on a nearby chair. Your face was only inches from mine.

"You've heard of someone dying a thousand deaths," you said quietly, "that's what you are going to experience--a thousand deaths."

My eyes widened as an ordinary clothespin closed on my nose. I struggled against the bars, strained my muscles, desperately tried to suck air through my nose and mouth; my eyes locked on yours as my body began to convulse. I felt a final indescribable agony then my eyes rolled up and darkness came.

But I wasn't dead, far from it. After a time my vision cleared and I awoke to find your face staring at mine.

"That's number one," he said, making a small mark on the metal under my face.

The clothespin went on again and I died a second time. He did it three more times that evening until my convulsions were just weak tremors.

"Two hundred days like this," he said, "that's how long it will take for you to die a thousand times.

"Don't worry. I will keep you healthy and alert for that full time. I want you to feel every one of your thousand deaths as if it was your first. Over time your body will make changes to deal with the horror of it, the pain. But I will make adjustments as well"

You put your face an inch from mine.

"It's an instinct you know...your response to suffocation. You can't really control your body's response. Each night you will be strangled and die a kind of horrible death and each day you will wait in this cage anticipating it happening again."

On the second day, I cried and pleaded for mercy. On the third day, I begged to be allowed to suck your cock, your balls, your ass, to grovel at your feet. You laughed. On the fourth day, I promised to serve you, to serve all men to whom I was enthralled in any way they wanted. You listened and nodded then continued to use my clothespin.

On the fifth day, I spoke the truth. I confessed that I was a selfish bitch who even now felt entitled and expected all men to beg for my favor. I admitted that it would take a hard master a very long time to overcome my programming, my perverse will...that perhaps it might never happen at all.

Magically, the cage door opened and you allowed me to demonstrate the sincerity of my words. I was elated, ecstatic when you entered my holes; even in the pain of those penetrations, I felt the joy of salvation. I still do. Through your will, your kindness, I was resurrected from the Hell that I so richly deserved.

I know that my submission is not complete, that I might never be totally submissive and will need to suffer...forever.

However long it takes, I thank you and your assigns for the pain and humiliation you inflict on me and for the sexual activities you allow me to perform. I understand now that these are gifts.

 

Respectfully submitted,

Your slave, Zoey (née Kerstin Landau, recently renamed by your gracious will).

 

P.S. And one final admission...my submission has unlocked female instincts of such strength that I am frequently overwhelmed mentally and physically. The thought that those responses might continue to grow stronger is both frightening and unbelievably exciting. Ironically, Master, I have never been happier. I know that this is unimportant to you, but in the interest of telling the full truth, as you ordered, I must declare it.