[squidley]

“Look, the little murderer is begging for mercy” jeered the second guard is he continued to thrust his hard cock into her tight ass. “I wonder if she had any mercy when she killed that poor woman whose car she hijacked? Tell me slut, did she beg for mercy when you sliced her up? Would you have spared her? Did you think about it, that she might have had kids when you plunged a knife into her belly? No slut? No answer? I didn’t think so…” the guard said.

Grabbing the stun gun one more time the guard pushed the prongs of the small black box against 71’s pussy and clit just before thumbing the switch to send the high voltage surging into her spurring him to cum and fill her ass with hot jism, shaking and bouncing as he did so.

“That was good” the second make guard said, “but now I have to piss… wait a second…” Pushing the tip of his cock back into the bound woman’s asshole and an inch or two into her, he let forth a torrent of hot piss into her battered ass and bowels, filling her guts with the burning, hot, and stinky fluid. “Hmmm…” he said, “nothing like a good piss after a hard fuck…” Pulling his still hard cock from 71’s ass, warm dark liquid dibbled down between her legs, a combination of blood and shit from her torn and bleeding asshole and the vile liquids forced into her.

Standing up, the male guard, now finished raping her, pulled his pants back up and retrieved his duty belt and equipment from the other guard composing his appreciative audience.

Sliding a nightstick between the bound woman’s chained arms and ankles, they lifted her up off the wet and stained floor to carry her into a small dark cell. “Isolation for you slut” said the matron as 71 was unceremoniously dumped on the cold hard floor, followed by “juice her”. One of the guards applied a stun gun for a long, long, time until the chained woman screamed and cried no more, unable to fight even the least little bit.

Lying limp on the floor the guards removed her chains and tossed the bright orange prison shift, a small shirt like gown that would be her only clothing, onto the bed of the tiny dark cell. The thin plastic mattress of the cell firmly secured to the concrete bunk, a toilet/skin combination in the back of the windowless tiny cell, 71 lay on the only open space of the floor, the area barely large enough to accommodate her body.

Just as the three guards turn to leave the cell and slam the thick steel door, the matron has a few last words to say, “half food rations for fighting…”