Theirs to Use: A Punishment Reverse Harem Romance(2)

“We’ll have to paddle you if you don’t,” the baritone said, a tinge almost of regret in his voice.

Another pause. The bass spoke. “What do you think, Joe?”

“I’d put her on the list. That’s two.”

“Go ahead and get up and get dressed, sweetheart. That’s Joe and I’m Pete. You’ll see us again. Alright, the warden said the next girl down is probably one we’ll want to show to Mr. Green. Says he’s been saving her.”

Oh, no.

The door of the other girl’s cell closed. Karen told herself she should try to prepare somehow, should think of a speech begging for mercy that would make these men take her out of corporate prison but not for whatever terrible fate they had planned—maybe she could seduce the one with the pleasant voice? She knew how pretty she was, in a blonde-haired, blue-eyed way that men seemed to find very appealing. Her tries at sex with the one boy she had ever really dated hadn’t gone very well, though. Could she… give herself to these men somehow, in exchange for her freedom?

Even as she formed the thought, though, she knew it wouldn’t work. Even if she could manage to pretend to want to have sex with this Pete or this Joe—or, she thought with a hard swallow, with both of them—it didn’t sound like they were here for that, and the thing they were here for would probably happen to her anyway, whatever it was.

A face appeared at the window of the cell door, dark-haired and bearded. Pete or Joe? she wondered, as if it mattered. A smile, obviously fake, broke out on the face, as if the man was trying to use a bland, sympathetic expression to cover over a deeper, more animalistic delight at the sight of Karen.

“Look at that,” said the face, in the deeper voice of Pete. “I’m not sure we even have to put all three on the list.”

The beep of the lock, and then its loud click, cut through the stillness of the tiny room. A bunk and a metal toilet were the only furniture, indeed the only contents, of the cell, besides Karen, who had stood when she heard the men moving down the cell block. She took a step back, involuntarily, so that she was almost against the wall opposite the door as Pete came in, followed by the slightly taller Joe. To her dismay, Joe’s face, though handsomer, also seemed crueler than Pete’s, with a disdain in his blue eyes that struck fear into Karen’s heart the more, she thought, because of its contrast with his red-haired good looks. Looking down, she saw that Joe carried the paddle in his right hand.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Pete said. “Go ahead and take off your clothes for us. We need to get a good look at you.”

Karen almost asked the same question the other girl had—Why?—but she knew it wouldn’t get her anywhere. She looked at the paddle in Joe’s hand and felt all her rational attempts to find a way out of this horrible moment start to slip away.

She put her hands out in a beseeching, warding-off gesture. “Please, no.” Her voice quavered, and though she hated the weakness it showed, she hoped, without any reason, it might evoke mercy.

“I know you haven’t had a visit…” Pete looked down at his handheld. “Karen. But I think you’ve probably figured out how it works around here. When they sentenced you to corporate prison, you gave all your rights to the company you failed to pay back. That means we’re going to have a good look at your body whether you like it or not. My friend Joe will use the paddle if he has to, but wouldn’t it be much easier if you just took off your uniform and your underwear and showed us what we want to see?”

“But…” Karen said, holding her hands up higher.

Pete gave a theatrical sigh. “Joe?” he said, in a tone of regret that Karen could tell the man didn’t even want to sound authentic.

Joe stepped forward swiftly. Two paces brought him right in front of Karen, who cowered back against the wall. He grabbed her shoulder with his left hand and hauled her, struggling and saying, “Please, no,” over and over, backwards those same two paces, to the end of the bed. He thrust her down over it, on her knees with her chest pressed against the awful synthetic blanket. When, flailing, she managed to twist away a little, she found Pete there too, grabbing her arms and holding them firmly behind her at the small of her back.

“You got the arms?” he asked his partner.

Joe didn’t speak a reply, but she felt his left hand move to seize the wrists Pete held still for him.

“Take the panties down, too,” Pete said then. “She needs to learn a real lesson.”

She cried out as she felt Joe’s hand reach inside the waistband of the orange prison-uniform pants and the waistband of her panties, too. He pulled them down unceremoniously to the bottom of her thighs.

Pete, to her horror, gave a low whistle. “That’s an ass I think even Mr. Green will appreciate.”

Who? What the fuck are these men doing here? What is this ‘program’?

Ever talkative, Pete spoke again. “Paddle it good, now. Don’t ruin it, though.”

Joe said, “You let me know when you’re ready to take your clothes off, Karen.”

Then she felt him shift his weight, and she felt the puff of air on her bare bottom-cheeks, and then the crack sounded in the little cell. The pain was so great that Karen writhed over the bunk, in the man’s grasp, feeling her bottom clench and unclench and moving it desperately to try to find a position that didn’t hurt so much.