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PUNISHMENT 120 – Part 19, the
drive
Della Domina
settled back in the plush, leather luxury of the Lincoln Town Car as the robot
chauffeur drove her and her prisoner towards Arizona’s Punishment Park.
Beside her, sat a brassiered and hot-panted Karla Conway, her hair cut back
into a slave crew cut, her feet stretched wide apart by a spreader
bar. Her hands had been cuffed behind her back, making her position on the soft
seating uncomfortable.
But there was more to her
discomfort than cuffs and a spreader bar. The black leather brassiere which
bunched her lush breasts into incredible uplift was laughingly known in
Perversion Police circles as “a training bra”.
In fact, it was a torture
bra. The cups were impregnated with row upon row of tiny little metal spikes,
which dug viciously into the lovely traitor’s big globes.
Adding to her discomfort was
the battery-powered electro impulser which was embedded in the back clasp of the bra. It sent
messages to the two metal discs pressing onto Karla’s thick nipples and every
five minutes or so, it would send delicious little jolts of agony through the
18-year-old’s nubbins.
Similarly, there was another
electro impulser in the taut black leather hot pants
which so seductively clung to her full, firm buttocks, belly and pudenda. It
was sending similar messages of agony to the clit clamp.
Sometimes the wicked little
batteries jolted the bitch on both nipples and clitoris at the same time.
Sometimes, they worked one at a time. They were randomly set, of course, so the
recipient of the sharp jolts could only anticipate.
Needless to say, the hot
pants were also lined with row upon row of the tiny metal spikes, adding
excruciatingly to Karla Conway’s anguish on the long, leisurely drive to
Punishment Park and her fate as a P-120 subject.
Not that Della Domina gave a fuck about that. Karla, her trusted and
loving young PA, had treacherously and traitorously betrayed Della’s trust and
love.
As far as the
stunningly-built 40-year-old show presenter was concerned, Karla Conway was now
the female equivalent of a cockslut – and in the New
United States of American in 2077 such people who had fallen into disgrace were called, simply, “cuntsluts”.
Della settled back, her
bolero jacket falling from her lovely large breasts to reveal their
nipple-hardness. At her hips, her leather miniskirt had risen to reveal her
crotch, its shaven expanse being cooled by the Lincoln’s air-con. On her feet,
small kicking booties gleamed menacingly.
The 40-year-old turned and
smiled at her wide-eyed, scared former PA. Della’s left hand reached out and
stroked the teenager’s right breast, sending fresh tremors of pain through the
firmness of the flesh, and then, judging by the girl’s yelp and writhing squirm
on the seat, the clit battery attacked her bud down there.
Della smiled. “Hope you’re
enjoying this, cuntslut,” she said, still stroking
the girl’s hard globe, “because the rest of your life is gonna
be one long, drawn-out story of pain, you fucking traitorous little bitch!”
Then the lovely blonde
turned to her vid-pap. As she had entered the Lincoln after the Perversion
Police had thrust Karla Conway into the back for the drive to Arizona, Caroline
Clitorides had pressed the vid-pap into Della’s
hands: “You’ll be interested in this story on the drive. Oh, and give the whore
one for me!”
Della had dived into the
back of the Lincoln, avoiding questions from news channel reporters, thrusting
their microphones at her, hoping for some “sound bite”
before the lovely TV presenter departed for Punishment Park with her
victim-cum-passenger.
She pressed the vid-pap’s
receive button and saw it was a “Special Edition” of Torture Times. She looked at the pretty face of the paper’s
Perversion Police correspondent. At 25, Lucy Lush was a well-built, not to say
stunning blonde.
She had attempted to
initiate affairs with Della, and with Della’s director, Condy
Conty, but to no avail. Both knew full well that the
pert-breasted, round-buttocked beauty was merely trying to use them to get
stories from the sex channel.
Lucy Lush had backed off,
but there were plenty of rumors that she finally
managed to “snare” Caroline Clitorides. Whatever the
truth, Della knew that she was very well connected with her Perversion Police
sources.
As she turned her attention
to the screen and the black, PVC-suited reporter, Della heard her giving
chapter and verse from the gleamingly-mowed lawn in
front of Sex Sinema’s HQ.
“Hi, Lucy Lush here from Sex
Sinema’s New Los Angeles offices,” she said in that
breathless delivery that Della had detested ever since she had first seen the
trollop on vid-pap.
“I can report that Della Domina, stunning blonde front person for the amazingly
popular Punishment 120 is now
escorting her former production assistant, Karla Conway, to Punishment Park in
Arizona where she will appear on the next P-120 show.
‘Karla, who was wearing a
specially built torture outfit of bra and panties fitted onto her by the
Perversion Police, looked tearful as she was thrust into the Lincoln.”
Lucy’s report was
accompanied on a split screen by pictures of Karla and Della entering the limo.
“So it’s
gonna be a long trip to Arizona for the girl who
tried to dupe the Domination Agency Board out of more than $1.5 million in New
US dollars.”
Della sighed. “Tell me
something I don’t know.” And then the bitch did.
“But I can report from my
sources inside Sex Sinema that Della Domina has a VERY special treat lined up for the
treacherous little tart when she gets her to Punishment Park. The plan is
.....”
And Della flicked off the
screen and pushed the vid-pap into her Gucci briefcase. There was NO fuckin’ way Karla was going to find out the things that
Della had planned for her at P Park.
Della picked up her
vid-phone and punched in Condy Conty’s
number in New LA.
The black director’s face
came up on screen.
“Condy,
just shut the fuck up and lissen,” hissed Della.
“I’ve just been watching the blonde bitch Lucy Lush on the Torture Times’ vid-pap, and she knows something she shouldn’t know.
“Be a darling, have a word
with someone. I don’t know who, chief of security, perhaps. But someone has
been leaking our plans for this cuntslut sitting
beside me and I think I know who.”
Condy Conty nodded. She would
be well aware, Della knew, that they were discussing
Caroline Clitorides.
“See what you can find out.
And if we can make it stick, well, who knows? I might have another cuntslut for the distaff P-120 program!”
Condy Conty grinned,
mischievously. “Fuck, that would be good. If we can
prove it, it would certainly be a breach of her contract. Leave it to me. Pleasant trip.”
And the screen’s picture
dissolved.
Karla Conway had been, of
course, all ears during the conversation. “What,” she asked her ex-boss, “have
you got planned for me?”
Della hoisted her miniskirt,
displaying her lovely naked pussy.
“Shut the fuck up and get on
your knees,” snapped Della. “I have no intention of giving away my little
surprise for you, so get down there and get drinking! I’m busting for a piss!”
To be continued.
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