<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> <html> <head> <meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> <title>Roberta 3</title> </head> <body> PAULA <br> <br> ALONE AND VOLUNTARILY CHILLY! <br> <br> Paula shivered in the November cold. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but Winter seemed to have started early this year! Much earlier than last year. But, of course, last year she had been wearing her warm winter coat. She was standing, breathless, at the top of the hill which overlooked her Uncle's house below and the grim and forbidding shape of Hell's Island Prison for Women, just visible through the dank mists, in the distance. She shivered from more than just the premature winter cold as she stared at that grim piece of rock. And the tears in her eyes were caused by more than just the keen wind.<br> <br> Her revered and beloved Roberta was over there! She had been on that bleak island since late July, serving a sentence of imprisonment with regular mandatory whippings and ultra hard labour for the remainder of her natural life. If she lived to be eighty, her harsh treatment would continue until she dropped! Poor unjustly imprisoned Roberta! Paula would give anything to be by her side and sharing her undeserved misfortunes!<br> <br> Paula still considered herself to be Roberta's servant and thus an auxiliary of the Golden Guard. For this reason she was still naked - hence her extreme discomfort in the cold weather. The King, who had no reason to suspect Paula of any wrongdoing and who still liked her far more than he cared to admit even to himself, had given her permission to remain unclothed if she so wished. <br> <br> “If it makes the poor girl happy, after losing her friend and lover in such a terrible way, then what harm can it do?” he had said.<br> <br> Then the King had sent her to her Uncle’s house in the country to recover from the distress of seeing Roberta's formal degradation and huge flogging, which as an auxiliary member of the Guard, she had been obliged to watch. She had been lined up with all the other members of the Golden Guard as Roberta was brought up from the dungeon, already more dead than alive after being tortured for many hours. They had brought Paula specially back from her uncle‘s, where she had been at the time, to watch. <br> <br> As a disgraced Golden Guard, Roberta had been hung upside down, after having her head shaved. She had then been whipped by four other Guards, all aiming at her back from different angles and each giving her a hundred lashes. It was a ghastly ordeal even for Roberta, the toughest of the tough. long before they had finished with her They had cut her to the bone a hundred times and a half demented Roberta had screamed for mercy long before the end. But she had been so weak by that time that no one had heard - not that it would have made any difference if they could. <br> <br> That ordeal had left her unconscious and at death’s door for six days. But, to everyone’s surprise, she had recovered strongly thereafter and she had finally been considered fit enough to start her sentence after ten more days. The Commandant had thought that the horrible punishment would surely have killed her, and such had been her intention and fervent hope. But Roberta was strong and had survived - just. Her continuing survival still gave the Commandant sleepless nights, even if she were safely marooned for all time on a barren rock surrounded by swirling tides and fierce currents. <br> <br> Despite her amazing recovery she was no longer the old Roberta, but a broken and chastened wreck, convinced by her tormentors that she must in some way be guilty even if she had no idea how or why.<br> <br> Paula was already at her Uncle’s house, still sobbing dementedly for hours at a time, when Roberta had been sent off to start her life sentence. She had thus not been there to see her friend escorted out of the Palace, shuffling in clanking chains, naked still, but with her golden hair no more than a stubble after it had been ritually shaved. After leaving the Palace and the city behind her, Roberta still had ahead the ordeal of walking the entire twenty miles to the port from which she was to be embarked. This ordeal was made infinitely worse by the fact that. as a parting gesture from the Golden Guard, Roberta had been badly whipped on the soles of her feet, <br> <br> Paula had seen her, loaded with chains and hobbling painfully, pass by her Uncle’s cottage, escorted by a troop of her former colleagues, a bowed, fallen and tragically shrunken figure compared to the imperious Golden Guard who had run past this very spot a few short months ago. <br> <br> She had wept to see this once proud Amazon, surrounded by contemptuous former comrades, being pushed, prodded and struck on all parts of her bruised body as a way of encouraging her to keep moving, stumbling and staggering the last few painful yards to the port. But she made it all the way, which was more than anybody had thought she would.<br> <br> Paula had heard from friends employed at the port how Roberta had collapsed as she reached the boat and been unceremoniously thrown into the hold with the cargo. She did not blame the escort for their cruelty. It was not the escorting Guards who had put her through this. They had honestly thought her a traitor. The true culprits were those who had so foully blackened her reputation and robbed her of her good name. Roberta prized honour above all.<br> <br> Paula refused to believe Roberta to be guilty. She had made it plain to everyone that she still stood by her Mistress, but her words had been dismissed as mere blind loyalty, admirable in its way, but of no account. No one else had ever had the slightest doubt, even though it had chiefly been the dying words of that treacherous maid Rowena that had condemned her to any more than a severe flogging. Roberta would most certainly have got the flogging in any case for the cardinal sin of losing her weapons. <br> <br> Rowena had let seven fellow conspirators into the Queen's apartments. Anna had given the alarm and frantically ordered the King and Queen into a corner where she could best protect them. In a fierce struggle she had killed four of the intruders. The King, insisting on fighting side by side with Anna, had killed two. The remaining one had fled and was still at large. Rowena had taken a knife from the corpse of one of the assailants and thrown it at the King. But Anna, moving with incredible speed, had hurled herself in front of him and taken the knife in her belly. The mortally wounded Anna fatally injured the evil Rowena before dying.<br> <br> When Roberta had been found, she was asleep and her sword, bow and arrows were not with her. Allowing herself to be disarmed was serious enough in itself. That alone would have got her dismissed in disgrace after an upside down flogging. But Rowena, in almost her dying breath, had named Roberta as the Golden Guard who had helped her smuggle her co-conspirators into the Royal Apartments. Paula had been away at the time, having been given leave for a few days to visit her sick Uncle.<br> <br> It was clear that someone in the Golden Guard must have been in league with Rowena. All the signs pointed to Roberta. Even the King, who loved her dearly by this time, had been constrained to agree that she must be punished by perpetual imprisonment of the harshest and most degrading kind. <br> <br> During her brutal interrogation and torture immediately after the incident, Roberta had seemed evasive and confused. She had been beaten savagely over her whole body and especially so about the groin area, scorched with hot irons and stretched on the rack until her joints cracked. When they had tired of this, they had secured her hands behind her and hung her from her feet, attached to a mechanism that slowly lowered and as slowly raised her, head first, into a tank of freezing cold water. Her head would be underwater for many long seconds, running into minutes until she was raised, gasping and spluttering, just in time to stop her drowning. She scarcely had time to draw breath before the mechanism sent her back down into the bath again. This went on for hours. The Head Torturer was very proud of this piece of equipment, which had only recently been installed. Roberta’s interrogation was his first opportunity to play with his latest toy!<br> <br> Through all these horrors - and more - she had scarcely seemed to know or care what was happening to her. After twelve hours they had given up on her and had then handed what was left of the poor girl, over to the Commandant of the Golden Guard for sentence and punishment. Both penalty and sentence were foregone conclusions.<br> <br> Nobody had believed her when she said that she had gone to her quarters with her equipment by her side. The whole excuse that she had mysteriously been robbed was seen as nonsense. She had clearly handed her weapons to be used by one of the conspirators and gone to her room and slept through what she hoped would be her royal master's murder. But Anna had been too good for them - as had the King, who had helped save himself and his wife from certain death.<br> <br> But Roberta had chosen Anna to be her fellow Personal Guard. Paula, who was going over the entire horrible episode for the millionth time. She found this the strongest objection to the charges against her. Roberta had considered that quiet and devoted girl to have been the most fitted of all the Golden Guard to be her companion. And Anna had been almost superhuman that night, more than justifying the trust Roberta had placed in her! Her family had been richly rewarded and would never be in want as long as they and their descendants lived! If Roberta were a traitor, she would hardly have chosen as her colleague such a skilled fighter, such an epic heroine, as Anna. Because Roberta was a superb judge of her comrades’ abilities.<br> <br> And the idea that Roberta would have handed her prized weapons to anyone else was nonsense. Paula had seen a thousand times, just how highly her Mistress prized them. And they had never been found. Paula had a pretty good idea where to look for them. She had been thinking these events every second of every day for the past five months.<br> <br> She ran, barefooted and naked, down the hill and back up again three times. For whatever reason, Paula wanted to be ready for anything she might need to do in order to help the toiling and disgraced Roberta. She might not be able to match her friend in terms of size and strength but she wanted to be as fit as the tallest and bravest of the Golden Guard. <br> <br> Because she was utterly determined that Roberta would not rot on that island for ever. By some means, that innocent girl, still only twenty years old, must be rescued! The very idea was too awful to contemplate that she should not be! She might be home sooner than anyone thought possible! And Paula intended to be the one who got her back from the dead, her honour vindicated and every last one of her enemies punished a hundred times more horribly than Roberta had been.<br> <br> Another consideration was that all this violent exercise helped warm her up! Roberta and her comrades’ bodies had all been well hardened by years of exposure to all weathers, but Paula had enjoyed a normal sheltered upbringing and her first winter without clothes promised to be a very testing time for her. But she was determined to stick it out. Her nudity was her one remaining link with her beloved Roberta.<br> <br> About to go into her Uncle’s house, she saw the same sight as in late February, half an age ago. The King’s carriage, with its escort of naked blonde beauties was coming her way. It must be that His Majesty was on his way to the hunting lodge. <br> <br> Paula was surprised. Rebel activity was at one of its periodic high points just lately and that Lodge was terribly hard to protect. There were a hundred places a sniper might use for cover. It had taken Roberta all her best efforts to stop the King being attacked the last time he had been there. Without his best Guard he was taking a very serious risk!<br> <br> The carriage drew nearer and nearer. Once again she saw the magnificent team of horses and the eighteen running Guards, all of whom she knew and liked by this time. They were all her friends except for two.<br> <br> She hated that despicable and incompetent Bertha. And she didn’t trust the Commandant. Paula had never understood the respect Roberta had had for that woman. She understood that the King wanted her out and Roberta put in her place. <br> <br> This would be the first glimpse Paula had had of His Majesty since she had seen him looking from a window at Roberta’s degradation and near fatal flogging. The look on his face on that day had almost made Paula forgive him for what he was allowing to be done. He had been weeping and had turned away, unable to look at what they were doing to Roberta.<br> <br> To Paula’s surprise the carriage slowed down as it neared her house. Finally it stopped and the King climbed down, helped out by two Guards, Rosemary and Charlotte. Paula guessed that these were His Majesty’s replacements for Roberta and poor dead, heroic Anna. Not a bad choice! Next to the original pair, they were the ones Paula would have chosen.<br> <br> “Paula! I came especially to see you! May we come in to your Uncle’s house. Paula knelt before him.<br> <br> “Your Majesty is welcome. Our house is honoured by your presence, Sir!”<br> <br> “Get up, please, my dear! We’re old friends, you and I! No need to kneel! Get those pretty knees off those sharp stones at once! Let’s go inside!”<br> <br> The King, Rosemary, Charlotte and Paula went inside.<br> <br> PAULA - BACK AT WORK (AND ON THE JOB)<br> <br> An hour later Paula was on her way back to the Palace. She asked to be allowed to run beside the carriage and surprised everyone by keeping up with the other Golden Guards all the way back!<br> <br> The King had reinstated her as an active assistant to the Guard. She was told once again that she need not fear ever being flogged on her back. But there was always the remote possibility of the very occasional caning. <br> <br> “But you are so good, Paula and so capable, that you need have no fears about that sweet bottom ever being made red!” said the King.<br> <br> “Except when you pinch it, Your Majesty!” she didn’t say! <br> <br> But she guessed, rightly, that he would not be able to keep his hands off those sweet rounded buttocks for long! She only hoped she’d be able to fend off Bertha and the Commandant, both of whom were becoming more predatory and insatiable by the day!<br> <br> It was all in a good cause, though. Now that she was back in the Palace and the Golden Guard’s quarters, she could try to work out exactly what had happened and just precisely how Roberta had been framed.<br> <br> It proved easy enough to rebuff the Commandant, who had long lusted after her, and had come to be beside herself with desire once petite Paula’s exciting buttocks had become bare for all to see. She had gnashed her teeth in a horrible paroxysm of blind and primitive rage night after night when the King had sanctioned her affair with Roberta.<br> <br> “What a shame that you and I cannot be lovers, Madam Commandant!“ said Paula the first time that the Chief Golden Guard’s hot and clammy hand had stroked her flawless posterior’s delectable hemispheres! “But we are too much apart in rank and it would ruin your career if anything ever came out about us!”<br> <br> The Commandant had taken to heart this far from subtle hint that Paula would make sure any impropriety got to reach the King’s ears. So from that day on her lust had turned to hate. Despite the King’s solemn assurance to the contrary, Paula was up before the Commandant on a succession of petty charges and her sweet little buttocks were blistered and made extremely red many times, thanks to the Commandant being on her back day in and day out. <br> <br> But Paula, like Roberta before her, pretty soon found that the pain was not only bearable, but actually almost pleasant. A special caning frame was erected especially for Paula and a few other auxiliaries recruited by other Guards anxious for pretty assistants and lovers. She was bent almost double with her bottom high in the air and ready to receive the swishy cane. She came to love the sound of it whooshing down upon her! Many were the delightful orgasms Paula experienced as the cane swished through the air and landed with a satisfying cracking sound on her bare arse!<br> <br> Three months into her resumed service, Paula noticed, with some regret, that her punishments were getting fewer and lesser. After four months they ceased altogether. The King had finally tired of the Commandant’s sexual sadism and ordered her to leave the little girl alone - or else! Paula knew His Majesty meant well and was grateful up to a point - but she still wished that he would mind his own business and get on with running the country, as if that wasn‘t enough for him to be doing in these difficult times!<br> <br> And if Paula were to find someone else to spank her, the King would start asking questions again. By this time he had become very possessive where Paula and her adorable bum cheeks were concerned, following their sweetly undulating progress about the Palace and its environs with increasing appreciativeness. He made it very plain that he wanted to see no marks whatsoever on this particular posterior - unless they were of his making! So her bottom, whilst crying out for more lovely swishing, pain-filled cuts of a lustily wielded and painfully flexible stick, was forced to cry out in vain! Poor pain-denied bottom!<br> <br> Bertha was less easy to fend off - a whole lot less easy. Finally Paula decided to swallow her pride (and much else besides) and allow herself to be taken by the ravenous and sexually insatiable Golden Guard one night in late January, with the wind howling and the snow falling outside. Paula thought of Roberta, possibly outside in that awful weather, and told herself that all this was only being done in order to help her to recover her liberty and her honour. She dutifully forced her head between those mighty thighs and plunged her tongue deep into Bertha’s vagina. As she did so, she reminded herself that she was only doing it for her friend and Mistress‘s liberty.<br> <br> As she tasted the succulent juices of Bertha’s incredibly hairy and phenomenally large cunt for the first time she was forced to admit that Roberta had had a point when she had once described the experience as a gourmet’s delight to be ranked right up there among the very best! <br> <br> There was at least one thing this useless piece of shit was good at! She certainly knew how to give a girl a good time! Soon she was enthusiastically throwing herself into this surprisingly enjoyable aspect of her role of double agent, becoming yet another Golden Guard’s toy.<br> <br> Despite the increasingly strenuous and guiltily pleasurable activities in which she and Bertha participated, she kept her eyes and ears open at all times. She began to see and hear a lot!<br> <br> Notwithstanding Bertha’s astounding proficiency as a lover, Paula came increasingly to despise her failings as a human being. And she was ever more amazed at each succeeding demonstration of her incompetence. Bertha still found herself on the whipping platform with great regularity, but she never got more that ten or twelve lashes at a time these days. Roberta would have collected many times that for the things that useless arsehole Bertha was always being pulled up for. How had she ever been allowed to enrol in the first place? And why, oh why, had she not been kicked out on her ear months ago?<br> <br> ROBERTA - WORKING EXTREMELY HARD<br> <br> The fort at the Island’s summit was where the Royal officials in charge of the prison lived. None of the prisoners ever got to visit those luxurious apartments. Roberta soon discovered that the prisoners lived at night in a prison building on the seaward side of the Island. There was a yard in the middle of this prison building, overlooked by row after row of tiny barred windows. Roberta was not put in a cell, but chained to an iron ring in the yard. Her still naked body was never to know shelter from the elements.<br> <br> The prisoners spent their days in a series of quarries, breaking chunks of rock away from the hillside and reducing them to rubble. A lot of the work was dangerous and all of it was arduous. Roberta had all of the most dangerous jobs, as well as the hardest and most back-breaking.<br> <br> At the same time that Paula was looking across from her own vantage point on the mainland, a still physically formidable but mentally cowed Roberta brought the heavy hammer down on the rock again. Splinters flew off in all directions. A crack appeared and she knew her efforts were being rewarded. Once again she lifted the twenty pound metal-headed wooden hammer and brought it back down hard on the boulder, which split neatly in two. This was the twentieth rock she had demolished in this four hour shift and there were at least thirty more lined up for her attention. She was dripping with sweat, despite the freezing temperature.<br> <br> She resisted the temptation to pause and wipe the sweat off her face - that would get her a free whipping! After her appalling near fatal experiences she had got more than a little tired of being whipped, even though she had once almost enjoyed it - and she was due to be given one in a day or two in any case. Once more, for the hundredth time, she sent the hammer crashing into the rock. When it was reduced to manageable fragments, her fellow prisoners would have the task of gathering up the stones and taking them to the harbour, where they were used for adding to the fortifications.<br> <br> Roberta was an ace with the hammer! She went on and on for hours - four hours at a time - raising it high above her head, her arms as high as they would go and her muscles standing out like ropes, and bringing it down hard on the rock. Now that it was November and the days were shorter, she worked here in the quarry for just under ten hours each day and it would be even less than that soon, before her days of toil lengthened again with the new year. Back in late July when she had first been put to work after a miraculous recovery from atrocious torture and a near fatal whipping, she had worked fifteen hours each day, amazing the overseers by her tireless capacity for hard and back-breaking work. <br> <br> She wanted to do well at her work, as this might make up for some of the wrong she had done. She was a traitor - so they said. And she had certainly lost her sword and bow, which was a bad enough offence in all conscience! She had disgraced herself - just when she had thought she had turned the corner and become a responsible Golden Guard and future Commandant. (The King had dropped more than just the odd hint concerning his hopes for her future!)<br> <br> The exact details of what had happened were still hazy in her mind - a mind still reeling from the knowledge that she must end her days sweating in this barren hell on earth. There were other women who had been here for many years now and were still being brutally worked both hard and long, even though they were old and bent with extreme age. In this place you worked until you dropped. And she had seen a few old crones keel over and die in the last few months. But they, like her, were the King's enemies and deserved no better.<br> <br> But she loved her King! She had been brought up to serve him to the death if need be. Year after year, day in and day out, it had been dinned into her that her life was hers only to devote to protecting the King and that she must be glad at any time to sacrifice it for him. All her training for eight years had been to make her a Golden Guard. How could she have sunk so low? She lifted the heavy hammer again and started on another large boulder. Soon that was reduced to tiny fragments. She was getting good at this! In twenty years she would be even better, but after that she would most likely tail off!<br> <br> When she had actually met her Sovereign Lord the King she had come to know him as a man and not as some idealised focus of loyalty. And she had liked him straight away. The more she had seen of him as a flesh and blood human being, the more utterly devoted to him she had become. Roberta knew that her regard was returned by her royal master and that, but for him, her whippings would have been far more horrific even than those she had endured. And finally, in an effort to help her avoid further pain and straighten her out, he had given her Paula to live with and love. But she had still let him down and, thanks to her negligence, Anna, that finest and noblest of young women, was dead. She wished she could join Anna! <br> <br> However much Roberta might despair and however much she might desire to die, there was something inside her that told her she might still have something to offer her King. Despite being here for all her days there might, even in this desolation, be an opportunity for her to redeem herself. So she slaved away all day and every day, setting herself and achieving more and more awesome targets.<br> <br> When it became too dark to work outside she would be taken back, loaded with chains, to the prison yard. There, with flaming torches lighting the grim rectangle, she would be placed chained to a treadmill and made to work it for five hours until finally allowed to sleep, still chained, for seven hours. Before dawn she would be fed and watered and made to work on the mill until light. Then back in chains to the quarry.<br> <br> At the quarry her manacles would be removed and she would be handed whatever implement was to be hers for the day. Whatever it was , it would be heavy and she would wield it as though it were no lighter than the proverbial feather. She would work hard for four hours and get a two minute break to eat and drink. Then four more hours hard work. It was cold now, but Roberta still sweated all day. At night she was too dog tired to notice the cold!<br> <br> If she had thought of escape, not that there was anywhere to escape to, the day period was her only chance. But there were never less than five guards, all armed with bows and all watching her closely every second. And her taskmaster stood close to her, his whip always ready to punish any real or imagined slackness. There had never been any real, but plenty of imagined slackness. For the taskmaster had a vivid imagination! Some days she collected as many as thirty slashes across her strong shoulders. For a girl who had shrugged off hundreds of lashes, laid on far better than this man could even begin to lay them on, this was no more than a fleabite!<br> <br> Once every three months she was flogged in front of all the other prisoners. This was something that had been decreed at the time she was sentenced, still confused and bewildered by the sudden horror of all that was going on around her. She was to receive fifty lashes, plus any awards that had been incurred as a result of offences against prison rules since her last flogging. So far she had received flogging number one and no extra lashes had been added. Because she was a woman her lashes were given to her by a woman prisoner. This lady would be full of hate for Roberta (for reasons that will become clear later) but had no skill and no strength. The woman hardly managed to break her tough skin, even when nearing the end of the punishment.<br> <br> Her next public flogging was due for the day after next and she welcomed the break from the deadly monotony! The procedure was different these days. No longer was Roberta trusted to remain still without being secured. Each foot was tied to a rail, parallel to the ground and her arms tied to a cross beam at the top of the whipping frame so that the victim was spread eagled. She was suspended from the ground until the ordeal was over. But she didn’t suffer such grievous pain as she had when a proud Golden Guard. Poor Roberta would give a great deal to return to her former proud status - mammoth whippings and all.<br> <br> Soon the light began to fail. Her legs were manacled and her hands chained behind her back. Slowly and awkwardly she shuffled the mile back to the yard where she was to spend the night. A few jeers and hoots of derision came from the cell windows as the other woman, free from work until daybreak, saw the despised Roberta, still naked, chained to the treadmill to begin her long hours of hard labour. She slept like a log when they finally fed her and left her for a few precious and all too brief hours sleep. Sadly she reflected that she could take maybe forty more years of this before succumbing. Roberta had been built to last!<br> <br> The next day passed much as usual and then it was time for the flogging! When she woke up on this day, there was almost a sort of joy in her heart. It was as if she were back in the Golden Guards and preparing to pay the penalty for yet another of her idiotic escapades courtesy of Senior Guardswoman Felicity. Then she remembered where she was, and why. Gloom and shame returned.<br> <br> As she had expected, there were no lashes to add to her fifty. The broken spirited Roberta was a very good girl these days. The other women were herded into the yard, gratefully released from their duties to see a disgraced enemy of the King being given part of her continuing punishment. The female they chose this time was better than the one who had seen to her three months ago - but not a lot! Even the most bitter of Roberta’s enemies conceded that she was a very brave young woman as her back was criss-crossed with red marks and she kept totally still. They had all been punished this way themselves and not one could have taken fifty lashes without moving and crying out well before the end.<br> <br> If only they had known how much worse she had endured earlier in the year, and would willingly endure again if she had the chance to go back!<br> <br> She prayed for the chance to be given the task of whipping a defaulter herself one day. She’d show them how it ought to be done! And she despised them as much as they all hated her. Then it was over, too soon for all concerned, including Roberta, and all went back to work. <br> <br> November gave way to December and December to January. January saw the first serious snowfall and the quarry was closed, not out of consideration for the naked Roberta and the other prisoners, but because the prison staff disliked the discomfort. Roberta operated her treadmill all day and surprised everybody except herself by still being alive each frosty morning.<br> <br> February was a rainy month and also the time for her third fifty lash flogging. She hardly felt a thing. Roberta’s long hair, now that it had grown back again, was perpetually soaked. At least it was clean when it rained! In the height of Summer when it hardly rained for months on end, her hair was indescribably dirty what with all the dust.<br> <br> March came and went and her day lengthened. The treadmill began to give way to the quarry. The winter frosts had opened up many cracks on the quarry face and Roberta was sent up the dangerously unstable cliff face to hammer away at the surface, sending huge boulders crashing down to the quarry floor. Her wish to be swept away in a landslide was not granted. It seemed that she had some sort of charmed life.<br> <br> Except that Roberta would have called herself cursed. Doomed to live like this for maybe another fifty years, becoming bent and withered like so many of the older women. And, frail and withered or not, she’d still get her quarterly whippings!<br> <br> May came with flogging number four, which was given by the strongest of the women and stung a lot more than the first three. As ever there were cheers as she was secured to the frame and fresh cheers every time the whip struck her. When this woman started drawing blood from Roberta‘s broad back, and in appreciable quantities after the thirtieth lash, the result was near hysteria! The flogger took a bow at the end and walked off to tumultuous applause.<br> <br> May, a dry and hot month, finally gave way to June which was hotter still. Roberta was toiling for eighteen hours a day in the pitiless heat.<br> <br> At night she was allowed to sleep in a hut near the quarry. Since there was nowhere to run, Roberta was allowed to sleep unchained and unsupervised. She was so docile these days that one of the guards, Raymond, had dubbed her “The Gentle Giant“.<br> <br> Other prisoners, if they were near enough, would throw stones at her, often hitting her and making her bleed, but she carried on working as though nothing had happened. Those who had known the fearsome warrior of a year ago would scarcely be able to recognise her in this cowed and obedient prisoner. They might have noticed, though, that her body was as incredible as ever! She was still a muscle goddess!<br> <br> Then one day as she had finally finished her work and was eating her disgusting meal, she saw a familiar small figure being led towards her in the fading light. Like her, the newcomer was nude. Unlike her she was small and dark haired. And she was not chained! And the guard escorting her seemed to be treating her with some respect and consideration, pointing out the best way to avoid tripping up over the rough ground.<br> <br> It was Paula! Her darling Paula.<br> <br> <br> <br> <br> <br> <br> <br> <br> </body> </html>