EXTRACT FOR
Sanoon Sarem - The Virgin Years
(Stanley Stephens)

    The Hoormen depended on fear to keep their charges under control, but Jarro was not easily deterred.  Together we slipped into a large duct, one she had been into on a previous attempt, and after closing the hatch behind us we were alone at last and unlikely to be missed until the prisoners were locked back in their cells again.

    It was hot and dirty clambering around in there.  Sometimes the pipe narrowed so we had to wriggle our way forward on our bellies, my only view forward being of Jarro's legs and backside. She was quite a character.  A year or two older than me, she had been taken by the Hoors after evading capture for a month in the wooded country to the south of the desert. She had escaped once whilst being held in a holding camp and it was a week before they had caught up with her again.

    The Hoormen were not about to let us just wander freely about in here and in due course we could hear them scrambling about in hot pursuit. Jarro loved the idea of them getting just as filthy as us in the old tunnels.  We came across no sign of any shuttles to steal.  Jarro and I led our pursuers a merry dance through the ducts until they finally cornered us and we were prodded into submission.

    We were taken before Commander Vascal, both of us filthy and smeared with grime from the ducts and bruied at knee and elbow from crawling about.  The Hoor was not pleased with us.  Jarro didn't seem to be learning that they would not tolerate any escape attempts, and now it appeared she had recruited a partner in crime.  She decided it was time to teach us both a painful lesson and called in an underling proficient in such matters.  I was not looking forward to this.

    With her prod set at the merely painful calibration, The Hoorchick, stripped to the waist for action, hurt us girls where it was guaranteed to hurt the most. She did a very professional job on us for what seemed the rest of the day, obviously relishing the experience. I'd almost be prepared to give her a reference. 

    I don't know if you've ever had your pink bits stroked by a Hoor prod wielded by someone who knows what they are doing as opposed to a mere sadist who just wants to hurt you, but it's not something you'd ever want to go through more than once in the average lifetime.  When they thought we had screamed enough, we were dragged twitching, and with no control over our bodily functions, back to our cells where they hoped we would reflect on the advisability of making another escape attempt.

    What the Hoors hadn't factored in was what we imagined the fate that would befall us and our unprotected genitals after we reached the slave markets, and while not relishing the thought of enduring another prodding session we were both determined to keep on trying to find a way off the ship.