The Foundation

The Foundation

24

The Best Whorehouse in Texas

Senator Simpson stepped out from his limousine and a naked convict, dressed only in dark blue stockings and high heels, stepped forward with an umbrella to shelter him from the downpour.

“Thank you, Miss.” He gazed at the damp, naked flesh. “Good Samaritans come in all shapes and sizes.”

The Senator examined the row of sodden women, thrusting their naked bodies at the guests as they strolled through the grounds towards the entrance of the prison. He stopped by another blonde with blue eyes and asked her to heighten the pace of her thrusts and stroke herself. She obliged, panting in the rain while the Senator enjoyed the spectacle beneath his umbrella. After a few minutes the girl’s rubbing brought forth an orgasm that dripped through her fingers onto the damp grass. The Senator patted the prisoner’s cheek and strolled away through the front gates of The Foundation, into the landscaped garden decorated with rose bushes and manicured hedges.

A trio of guards stood by the main doorway, safe beneath their umbrellas while the deluge cascaded onto the whores standing by the far wall.

“Good evening ladies, I hope you’re not intending to spend the evening out here in the rain.”

“We’re just here to make sure you know where to go after the speeches. There’ll be a map of the prison so that our guests can visit their favourite area.”

“What delights do you have on offer? Will we see some genuine ‘therapy’ this evening?”

The three women smiled and Senator Simpson nodded gravely, touching the side of his nose as he winked.

“You know how to make an old man happy,” he said as he passed into the main lobby, decorated for the evening with dark blue livery and Texan flags.

Wendy, having been briefed on the guest list, approached the Senator and offered her hand for a kiss.

“My dear, I saw your performance on the television.” The Senator’s hand began to stray towards Wendy’s belt, and she knew that it would not be halting at the border. “I was … enraptured by your beauty. You have an elegant grace that is denied these to these sluts.” His hand had now reached her buttocks.

“Senator. I may not be a married woman, but you have Missus Simpson to consider.”

“True, my precious. Very true. However, we cannot part without you allowing me to offer you … my regards, and my thanks for the best whorehouse in Texas.” He gently grasped Wendy’s backside before departing with a gallant wave in search of the bar.

Carmel stood by the small stage set in the middle of the far wall, awaiting the arrival of the Governor. The presence of the first citizen of the state had only been confirmed earlier that day, after a frantic telephone rally between Carmel’s office and Austin. It was a notable success for The Foundation, and Carmel knew to thank both Judge Maxwell and Senator Hodges for the visit.

Senator Hodges appeared through the crowd, accompanied by a young blonde in a bright blue dress. She possessed an elegant figure, but she wore such a sour face, it undermined her beauty.

“Senator, it’s a pleasure to see you once more. Do I still address you as Senator?”

“Of course, there’s no change between Washington and Austin, only the taxis are more expensive in Washington and no one knows how to cook steak.”

“Well, I’ve not had the opportunity to congratulate you on your election or to thank you for all your work on our behalf.” Carmel smiled at the young woman, as if demanding an explanation for her sullen mood.

“This is my niece, Denise. She’s a bit low at the moment. Boy trouble.” The Senator whispered the last two words.

“It’s not boy trouble. It’s that slut Maxie Keston. She stole my Harry.” The young girl turned away for a sob, and the two women exchanged a glance.

“If there is anything I could do …”

“Well, now that you mention it.” The Senator led Carmel away to return five minutes later, both women smiling at the outcome of their talk.

“Denise. We’ve a girl in one of the rooms that will look exactly like Maxie.”

“I doubt she’ll have her pig eyes and that slut’s fat bum.”

“She’s close enough to be convincing, my dear. Miss De Bois has agreed to allow you … free rein on her after the speeches and desert.” Denise offered only a wan smile, but it was the first positive sign since she discovered that her college beau had been pilfered by a trailer park whore. There was some compensation in abusing a convict who looked like Maxie. It would ease her anger until the opportunity arose to punish the real whore.

As soon as the Governor arrived to a flurry of camera flares, Carmel stepped onto the stage to offer a brief address, thanking the guards, the administrative staff and the politicians for the courage to embark upon this brave adventure. She explained how some of guards would take small parties on a tour of the prison, and that the guests were invited to “partake of any of the delights they encounter on their travels.” Carmel knew not to detain her guests once the prospect of viewing the bondage whores in action was imminent. She offered a toast and the speech concluded with a round of hearty applause from the distinguished gathering.

Some guests began immediately to wander into the prison, exploring the yards and cells, but most waited to be guided by a senior guard along a route carefully designed by Carmel and Pamela to highlight the values and the benefits of The Foundation. The entire range of facilities available in the prison was presented during the tour. In the dance studio the convicts perfected their routines for the brothels and the shows for the forthcoming TV channel. The fitness centre housed an array of weights and treadmills. The sun tan beds provoked surprise, but Pamela explained to her party that the convicts were expected to look gorgeous for their customers. The studios were viewed in full operation, with three sets simultaneously recording films. The Dungeon studio attracted considerable interest, especially as the counterfeit Rozanov Sisters were torturing two unfortunate Latino girls.

Throughout the tour the convicts were constantly playing with both their breasts and their holes, often at the same time. The guests soon learnt that The Foundation catered for the most depraved and disgraceful women in the state, leaving even the most sceptical visitor in no doubt that the prisoners deserved their fate. However, Wendy’s group included Bethany Carmichael, who was visiting The Foundation for an item in the following week’s Samantha Tannon Show. The young officer struggled to maintain her composure as the reporter asked a series of facile and objectionable questions. The interrogation became so persistent that one guest asked Bethany why she had come to The Foundation if she found the activities so objectionable. Wendy only smiled at the insults and pondered her revenge.

All the tours concluded in The Consequence House, which was now an entire building teeming with young women in various bondage and torture poses. The guards entertained the guests with a display that included a crab race followed by punishment of the loser along with a plug race and finally a bout of prolonged sodomy of prisoners by other prisoners, all administered with abundant use of the electric baton and the cane. Once the session was over the guests were invited to stroll in the garden, still damp from the rains that had mercifully ceased, to choose a partner for any sex sessions that the guests might wish to enjoy in the comfort of the ‘hospitality’ suites located at the far end of the garden. 

However, most of the guests preferred to torment the whores on offer in the garden, despite a distinct chill in the night air. The whores endured an array of humiliations such as sucking on dildos, masturbating against the concrete posts and statues displayed around the grounds, or being sodomised by fists or vibrators. Pamela also noticed that the guests were reluctant to employ the canes on offer, preferring to leave discipline to the guards. Clearly, they opted to watch the convicts being abused rather than inflicting abuse themselves. The message from the television show was confirmed at the opening of The Foundation, the prison officers were a distinct attraction.

Pamela observed a small party of two women and four men while they enjoyed the sight of a brunette squatting on the grass as she drew apart her vagina lips to vigorously rub her gleaming red clitoris. She noticed that the women were more active than the men when commanding the whore to perform. One of the women drew back her head to show to the audience and massaged her enormous breasts.

“Rub harder, you cunt.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

After less than a minute of chafing the whore’s knees quivered and an orgasm cascaded from her hole as she gasped with pleasure. The surge was greeted with words of disapproval, even disgust, by the guests as the whore rose to stand in the display pose.

“Who told you to stop?”

The whore immediately returned to her squat and resumed her enthusiastic masturbation. Pamela noticed that the girl was staring down to the grass at her feet and ordered her to raise her head to look at her clients. One of the women asked Pamela how many times “these sluts” came during a normal performance, and she had to admit that she had never thought to count. The woman smiled, and asked whether or not that might make for an enticing competition.

“The first to five spurts?”

“Mrs Lancaster, that’s an interesting idea. May I use that?”

“Be my guest.”

No more than ninety seconds after she returned to the grass the whore jolted once more and another stream dripped onto the ground. One of the men asked the whore to bounce on her haunches because he wanted to see her breasts move, but the whore, balancing on her toes, managed only a mild rising and falling that failed to satisfy his companion. She asked Pamela to punish the whore for such insolence. The women, offered the choice, opted for the cane.

The squatting whore, following her training, pleaded to avoid a caning. The Foundation whores were to enjoy all forms of sex, no matter how painful or degrading, but to be pathetic and shameless in seeking to avoid discipline. The whore pleaded with Pamela and the woman, but the guest insisted on her victim squatting in the crab position to endure six strokes of the cane across her buttocks. Once the penalty had been administered the whore, unable to curb a sob, returned to her squat and resumed her masturbation in pursuit of a third orgasm. Pamela left the guests to their entertainment and returned to the hall to prepare for the final event of the evening. 

Carmel had remained in the hall while the guards took the parties on their tour of the prison, supervising the removal of the buffet and the deployment of the wine and cakes for Ramon’s performance with Rosa. Once the room was set for the return of the guest she went in search of her star. She found him in one of the cells, sporting a huge erection. He was as she saw him that very first time, hard as steel from a steroid injection into the base for the shaft. The jab itself was painful, and the drug left his muscles rigid and bloated, and now he was suffering as he sat on the low chair.

Carmel poured a handful of cream onto her palm and worked the lotion into the lower half of his penis. Ramon thanked her for relieving, if only for a few moments, the agony from the injection.

“It won’t take long, I promise, and then we will be free of her, forever.”

Ramon returned to his low seat, and she stood over him while he roamed over her upper legs, reaching towards the dark recess of her inner thighs as she moaned gently at the touch of his expert hands, regretting her choice of such a tight evening dress. Five minutes later, after she stepped out of her dress to allow Ramon full use of his hands, he brought her to an orgasm. She was slipping back into her dress when she heard the first sounds of the guests returning from the garden.

“Ramon, my dear, it’s time to perform.”