Penance Corporation of America
Book I: Muffin Brown Aspires and Book II: The Judge's Revenge by Chris Bellows
Two novels in one volume
When a government penal facility is turned over to a publicly traded corporation and run for profits instead of the rehabilitation of the inmates, the rules of incarceration change dramatically. Care and treatment are designed to maximize revenue and minimize costs. Extravagances such as food and exercise are reduced to minimal levels, making prisoners as docile as possible. Once acclimated to the severe restraint of restricting cages, inmates find that parole and early release are rare occurrences. Once tamed, a prisoner best serves forever - like an annuity for the greedy shareholders.
Book One, Muffin Brown Aspires, tells of the young and energetic Muffin Brown, a newly arrived handler at Penance Corporation, who's sweetly ruthless in taking charge of her 'cell' where a dozen meek and groveling males depend on her for everything... and the little femme fatale grudgingly gives little.
In Book Two, The Judge's Revenge, an unscrupulous federal prosecutor overplays her power and in a riveting tale of intrigue is forced to join the many male prisoners at the Penance Corporation facility. She has information which federal judge Patricia Wilmot desperately seeks. And how better to obtain it than have her secretly incarcerated in a facility where no one ever leaves. More extreme bondage, corporal punishment, and a most curious manner of extracting information...forced lactation...will make the reader reconsider any thoughts of a life of crime.
The Penance Corporation of America needs profits and welcomes criminals as a sheepherder welcomes lambs. Is it any wonder that the parole board is routinely encouraged to extend all stays indefinitely. Readers will be clamoring to know how this amazing story concludes!
Extreme, inescapable bondage, sensory deprivation, caging, humiliating medical procedures, corporal punishment, oral servitude, feminization, piercing, fisting and forced lactation and milking all combine in this tale dedicated to creating model prisoners for the benefit of the bottom line.
“Got your first guest, Muffin. Meet 122299.”
It is an experienced handler by the name of Nancy. She assisted in conducting the training class and her cool demeanor in handling the naked male impressed. With a firm tug the leash in her right hand tightens and I indeed meet 122299 as he crawls through the doorway.
The six digit identifying number is the date of incarceration, therefore I know that my crawling charge has been under our ‘care’ or that of the government since December 22, 1999... seven years.
In responding instantly to tugs and commands, the affect of his long term of confinement becomes evident. He endeavors to please and actually appears somewhat eager to be brought to his new cage. When so enclosed it is difficult to earn the wrath of a handler... something to be avoided.
“Let’s put him on the top, Nancy,” I cheerily suggest in pushing the ramp in place.
The high tech key dangling on a slim chain around my neck is used to trigger the cage door. It easily springs open, the electronics reacting only to my thumb print. If stolen or lost the key will not do a prisoner any good... only earn him punishment for possessing it.
I stand aside as 122299 gingerly follows the leash, crawling with a combination of speed and caution. Though otherwise completely naked, 122299 is hooded and blinded. The tough synthetic leather-like covering envelops the entire head down to the neck where it attaches to a thicker collar of similar material. There is a large opening for the mouth and nose. A rectangular patch, adhering to the hood by way of Velcro, covers the eyes and can be removed.
Metal clanks metal as 122299’s hands, knees and feet negotiate the ramp. Nylon wrist and ankle cuffs are tethered together with chains to inhibit extended motions of the hands and feet. Thus 122299 crawls utilizing little baby steps that serve to enhance both his humiliation and sense of being under complete control.
“Ok, sweet cheeks, turn toward the sound of my voice like a good boy. Lower your buttocks and crawl backwards.”
122299 obeys. The height of the cage prevents him from remaining upright on all fours. The height is so limited that he must hunch lower to fit within. Yet with his years of confinement he knows to scrunch down and shuffle backwards. Nancy unclips her leash and smiles.
“He’s all yours... ready to be secured and scanned.”
My heart leaps! My first toy. I clear my throat to issue my first command in as stentorian a voice as I can muster.
“Lie tummy down, slide so your feet are all the way back, wrists stretched over your head,” I command in swinging closed the cage door.
122299 complies, slithering to the far end. As stated, the coffin shaped cages are long. When his feet touch the furthest most vertical bars, he lies down. In stretching out his arms straight over his head he pushes his hands toward me and his wrists approach the cage door. I reach into the pocket of my uniformed skirt and remove the ubiquitous double ‘D’ clamps that I have carried since day one of training.