Yuki Wantanabe Pt. 02

Last in line was the Oriental Division. The Slants, as they were called by the guards, wearing their red and white stripes. Yuki was too far away to be reached by any inmate in line while strapped in place where she was. It was when they sat down to eat that she would be irresistible prey. She was grateful for being out of reach when the Slants started to see her. There were many Chinese who would have thrown more than hateful words at her.

It was the words that started to get to her. The Primes had been calling her Yucky as they crept past. She had no idea if they had known her real name was so similar. A few talented spitters were able to land wads of phlegm on her exposed holes. As the Tribals passed, word had spread of her having to suck up her own piss off the Warden's boot. They added several more loads of phlegm and Yucky Sucky was her name. That hurt her in ways that physical pain could never reach. But when the Chinese gang got close and held up the serving line, she was being called Yucky Sucky Wannabe Whore. From then on, the inmates and guards called her any combination of those names. Only in the presence of the Warden and during official business was she ever Inmate 123-23-32.

Yuki cried freely behind her mask. She had left that horrible nickname behind when she left high school and her evil bully. Yucky Wannabe was not supposed to exist anymore. So she denied it was happening and imagined she was not really here. Her mouth was mounted on the cock of her master, her owner, instead. He had placed her on his cock like this as punishment for agreeing to whore herself and now had her spread open for free and public use. Every load of phlegm that landed on her pussy was another man having his way with her. The burning and itching in her holes were just men rutting her. Every time they called her Yucky Sucky, she gulped down on the cock in her throat, desperate to make Master happy with her and end this torment.

As she fantasized being held open by a gang of men, fingers clawing down the inside of her thighs, actual fingers clawed the insides of her thighs. Yuki screamed as fantasy and reality met and she exploded in an orgasm that had been held back too long. Pain had been the trigger she needed to fall over the edge. She shook like she was having a seizure. Her sex quivered and spurted, drops of her cum falling to the floor below her.

Li-Li, Inmate 12-22-30, scratched and clawed all over the restrained girl, keeping her from fully focusing on any one thing. She loved getting fresh meat delivered right to her table like this. She knew the guards were aware they were putting the cute Japanese girl in jeopardy when they attached her to this spot. As a Japanese, she should have been on the back row, not up front like this. They were humiliating her on purpose and this sadist was more than happy to help.

As the rest of the prisoners ate, Yuki was forced to endure threats from her fellow inmates. Deforming her. Mutilating her. Ruining her body. Breaking bones. She would prefer the gangbangs of her imagination over this. And all the while, she was Yucky Sucky Wannabe, Whore. She wept, knowing she could endure this. She could. She was strong. She had to be Yucky Wannabe again. It was the worst when they touched her. Fingernails scribing over her breasts, threatening to remove them. As if anyone would notice, they would say. Pinching her clit hard and pulling it until their fingers slipped off, threatening to remove it forever. Pulling on her catheter line, knowing there was a balloon of saline holding it inside her, threatening to pull it out.

Yuki cried as they tortured her. She cried in pain and she cried in shame. Her mind hated everything they were doing to her. Her body was loving every bit of attention it was getting. She had never been so aroused before. It took her a few minutes to realize that the room had gotten quieter, so she chanced a look around. The place was clearing out fast with lines of women dumping their food into a tub before placing their trays on a conveyor belt to be washed.

She had been left strapped on display. She realized her neck was sore and it was hard to hold up her head anymore. She wished she could rest her head. But this was prison and she knew her day was just going to keep going. When the guards finally arrived to unstrap her, she saw there were five other women who were wearing humiliation or discipline masks. One was a smiling face on a white woman, making her look like a happy idiot. Two were leather dog masks, a red one and a black one. Yuki could guess that it was an Asian and a white woman, especially based on the rest of their bodies. Another Asian was wearing a pink pig mask, a metal one similar to her own, and it looked massive. The girl could barely lift her head. The last woman was a Black lady, her huge breasts bound with a thin rope, making them swell. Her mask was a white lady face with a shocked expression.

Each mask had a connector similar to her own, right in the center of the mouth. The guards led all the other women over to the tub of discards before attending to Yuki. The pig and the dogs were placed where they could dip their tubes down into the soggy mess. The other two were kept standing and were attached to a different set of hoses hanging down from the ceiling. As Yuki watched them, she decided she was not going to suck up her food today. She was not going to help cement her horrible nickname right after that humiliation. She would rather starve and face the punishment for refusing to eat.

Two guards came over and released her from her bondage at the table. They carried her over toward the tub and Yuki immediately began resisting. As much as she wanted to lower her head due to the weight of her ahegao mask, she was not going to be Yucky Sucky for these women. Not on her first day. The guards looked at each other for a moment and shrugged shoulders before hooking her tube up to the lines dropping down from overhead.

Yuki felt a bit of pride in getting her way. She knew her strength of will was going to help her endure her stay here. They were not going to break her. They could restrain her and wear her out physically, but they could not break her will. Especially not on her first day. She was smiling behind her orgasm face mask, eager to receive her meal from the tube that was now attached to her. A milky white fluid started to run down the clear plastic lines. For a moment, Yuki was concerned. She hoped it was not really milk but a nutritional mix instead. She had severe sensitivities to lactose. Would the prison know that? Would they care?

She relaxed her throat and allowed the mixture to flow. Her empty stomach welcomed the fluid, easing her hunger pains. After a few seconds, she noticed that the fluid was also flowing down extra tubes and falling on the floor. She gulped and sucked on her cock gag, trying to get as much of it as she could before it was wasted. Yuki was upset when the guards disconnected her and she stared at her meal being poured out onto the floor. The instant one of the guards moved the flow into the waste tub of food, all three remaining prisoners pulled their heads out. Yuki did not understand why they moved so fast.

She was having trouble keeping her footing because the floor was now slippery from the discarded fluid. The boots of the guards were making squeaking noises as they gathered up the six inmates. They paused when a slim red-headed guard in a too-tight shirt arrived to take Yuki. She had to start her whore training, and that meant another visit to the prison tattooist. She looked at Yuki with curiosity as she asked how much Inmate 123-23-32 had for lunch. The guards shrugged. They weren't monitoring her consumption rate. One of them rubbed her belly and pressed. A half-gallon of soapy water was the estimate.

The red-head got very mad at the guards. Soap meals were not to be given to new inmates, especially ones who had not been cleared for it by Medical. Yuki's eyes widened in fear and surprise. She had been drinking soap water! She was too shocked to fight being moved out of the cafeteria and did not comprehend what was happening until she had been strapped down to the tattoo chair again. The test buzzing from the vibrating needle brought her back around to reality. She was having cold sweats now and her digestive system was making horrible noises. There was pressure building inside and she knew there was only one exit available.

The artist worked quickly and etched four simple lines on her pubic mound, a capital W framing her slit, Her clit sat in the middle of the letter, just below the center peak. Now she was a whore as far as the Loosahatchie River Detention Center was concerned. The pain from the inked brand barely registered in Yuki's mind. She had not gotten far away from the tattoo stations before her bowels released. She passed out almost instantly. The red-headed guard was calling for Medical assistance as they dragged her limp body over to the shower area for a quick cleanup.

Yuki woke up hours later in the Infirmary. She was restrained to the bed but not as severely as any of her other recent bondage experiences. Just some wide hospital grade cuffs that kept her from using her arms and legs. She saw a clear tube was attached to the center of her gag. As she started to panic, thinking she was drinking more soapy water, the bubbly woman from earlier bounced back into view, her large tits bouncing with apparently endless enthusiasm.

Yuki was told she had been severely dehydrated from her soapy water meal and that she had been passed out for hours. It was well past midnight, so she was going to be held here until the breakfast klaxon. The woman was happy to tell Yuki that the guards promised to give her a very light whipping for missing dinner time last night. Just enough to mark her up so that the other inmates will see she was properly punished. She also informed the bound woman that the next time the guards guide her to a meal, she needs to allow them to feed her. Yuki tried to nod her head and could barely move. She drifted back off to sleep.

Inmate 123-23-32 spent her second night at the Loosahatchie River Detention Center in the Infirmary. She knew it was her own fault she was there. She had no idea at the time that she was forcing the guards to connect her to the soapy water dispenser used for cleaning the cafeteria. She assumed it had been a food dispenser, since two other inmates had been connected to the device. She was unaware that it was a punishment for the two women and a test to see if they could prevent the fluid from going down their throats.

As she lay there, her stomach growling, she tried lifting her head and found she was too weak to move. She made sounds from her throat, hoping someone would realize she was awake and needed help. She had no idea that it was still two more hours before breakfast was to be served. There was no one in the area to help her.

She could feel the burn from the tattoos she had been given. The one on her chest and shoulder were still irritated from the delousing powder they had thrown on her at arrival. The newer one on her pubic mound throbbed a little, but she was not sure if it was actually the tattoo or if she was becoming aroused from thinking about being tattooed. It had been a frequent mastabatory fantasy of hers. Marked and used, over and over by uncaring men and women. Her entire existence just an outlet for sexual release.

She tried again to lift her head, knowing it was only restrained by the colorful ahegao mask. The cast iron held her down oppressively, the screen across her vision making it hard to make out any details around her. After a while she gave up and laid there. She felt pressure on her bladder and wished she could get up to pee. Then she remembered she had been wearing a catheter. She shook her leg and could feel the tubing still taped there. She would not be urinating without permission.

When she heard footsteps approaching, she tried to lift her head again but quickly gave up. She could tell something was wrong but did not know what. She resorted to waving her hands and feet, trying to move any body part she had left to get some attention. She wished she had a larger bust. Her A cups were not large enough to be eye catching to very many, despite still having a youthful jiggle to them.

A stern looking face appeared over Yuki. This was not the bubbly attendant from earlier. After a quick inspection, the new woman determined that Yuki had strained her neck muscles, probably from wearing the mask. She explained it was a common injury. Normally, the mask would only be worn for a few hours at a time to allow the inmate to work their way up to full time use. Yuki, however, was locked in hers by order of the Warden for three days. She had two more to go.

So instead of releasing her, the new attendant went out of view for a few minutes and returned with a black leather cuff. Yuki knew exactly what it was as soon as she saw it. A severe, rigid posture collar. She had tried one on before, with a boyfriend who was willing to experiment with some kinky fantasies she had. She did not like how it felt then. She didn't have a choice this time though. It was going to be put on. Yuki could not fight the woman as she opened it up and placed it over her throat. The woman laced and tightened it, keeping Yuki restrained the entire time.

Once the woman was done, she removed the restraints holding down the Asian and helped her to sit up. A locking strap was added to the collar. Pain from her bladder made Yuki motion to her catheter line. The stern woman just laughed at her. All pissing was to be done before lining up for meals, she was informed. Like the Warden had instructed every inmate upon arrival. Yuki felt stupid for not knowing this and she wished she had been able to listen to the Warden instead of reacting to whatever nerve agent had been on her new gag.

She was then led by the woman over to a tall pole which had several long strips of leather attached to a ring at the top. When the woman asked Yuki if she wanted cuffs or was she going to be a good girl, she did not know how to respond. The attendant decided for her. Good girl. She threaded a leather strip through one of the four rings set in the posture collar. It was pulled tight and forced Yuki on her toes, her gag pressing hard down her throat. She relaxed so she could keep breathing and for the next few minutes, she partially hung there, so she explored the tattoos she now had. It had been a long time since she had freedom of her hands like this.

Yuki traced the number she had been given. It hurt and was sore. She could feel the scab that had formed over the wound. The attendant warned that she should not pick at the scab. Let it heal. Yuki tried to nod that she understood but she was surprisingly immobile.. She experimentally touched the new W that decorated her. It was sore as well but it had never had the delousing agent spread on it. She imagined her pimp had marked her instead, the cheap bastard making her suck off the artist instead of paying out any cash for the job. With a round of handjobs for the customers and staff.

That's when the first whip lash landed. It stuck her shoulder and ran diagonally down her back and deflected off her ass cheek. Yuki howled into the gag, but barely made any noise. She twisted and squirmed at the next three strikes before the attendant was beside her, pushing her against the pole, pissed that Yuki was not standing still for her whipping. It said clearly on the chart that she had missed dinner the night before, so she knew to expect this. She informed the prisoner that when someone ties you to a whipping post, you should be expecting to get a whipping.

The woman stepped away again and Yuki knew what was about to happen. She put her arms around the pole and held on tightly. Lashes began to rain down on her back, the only protection she had was the wide straps of her cupless bra. Then the woman moved to her ass. Instead of nearly vertical strikes, these came in horizontally. The attendant had real skill with her whip. She curled it around several times and landed strikes on her belly and pubic mound. It was only after Yuki was simply hanging by the strip of leather that the whipping stopped. Her arms and breasts had taken many horizontal hitsl.

Yuki could not understand why her pussy was so wet right now, throbbing with heat. She was resisting the urge to stroke her clit and she kept surprising herself when one of her hands would drift over to her pussy. Her vision was slowly blacking out and all she wanted to do now was cum Someone grabbed her in the armpits and lifted her up into the air. Then she was set down on her feet and turned around. It was one of the guards from yesterday, here to administer her 'light' morning whipping.

As the guard directed Yuki out of the room, she fist-bumped the attendant and winked at her. They both made a chef's kiss gesture and smiled at each other. Yuki didn't like that the guard was now guiding her through the hallways, alone, with her hand firmly on an asscheek. The pain from the grip was one issue because it was muscular. The other was the cane and whip marks on her skin. Each step that flexed her asscheek was agony.

They went straight to the area where the lines formed for breakfast and the guard showed her what was considered the toilet area. It was just a large square room right off the hallway. There was no attempt to hide the function of the room with shaped walls or pleasant odors. The floor was just grating and it hurt Yuki's feet in a tortuous way. She felt like she was walking on spikes, her full body weight being supported on edges of steel. The guard said her feet would toughen up over time, since shoes were not allowed except for outdoor work.

Once she was inside the room, the guard pinched open the clamp on her catheter and allowed her bladder to empty. She was not sure she actually heard it, but right before she groaned at the release of pressure, she thought she heard someone scream out in shock, like they had just been peed on. She later found out, that is precisely what happened.