Can you feel a brand new day?

It was obviously a night of very bad rest. I kept drifting in and out of consciousness, without managing to enter any kind of deep sleep. Whenever my mind surfaced to slumbering, the strain on my muscles by the **** spread-eagled position and the numbness of my limbs caused by the blocked circulation immediately overwhelmed me. But I was also exhausted, and I’d drift off into another catnap within minutes. By morning, I still felt knackered.

The next day started when the neon light on the high ceilings all came back to life and exposed us all to a cold, menacing light. No horde of white men entered today; apparently their jobs were mostly finished. Just a few isolated ones employed some kind of activity near the center of the hall, pretty far away from my bound position, apparently checking some sort of machinery meters. I was wondering about breakfast, but there was no sign of that.

I looked at the next bunk for the first time. The girl in it was a few years older than me, with ash blonde hair and a curved body. She looked back at me and we smiled.

“Hi. I’m Sarah”, I said.

“Rachel.“ She paused for a second, then continued: “I was a nurse, and collected at the hospital. You? “

“College.”

I tried to think of something else to say, but my mind just blanked. What do you talk about when you’re nothing but an object anymore? I figured she didn’t know anything about breakfast either. She would also feel racked after a night in bondage. She also had no idea what was in store for us. It didn’t need to be confirmed. We both retracted into our own thoughts. I was surprised to notice that I was still horny. Even though my pussy had mostly dried up during the night, I clearly felt the heat of slumbering arousal in my loins. I was amazed at my own body; how was it possible that this ****, this humiliation, the strain in my muscles, the display of my genitals as if I was some sort of museum exhibit, made my pussy burn in a heat that couldn’t be quenched? Why did my brain feel miserable, while my pussy yearned for nothing more than attention and release?

We were left alone for at least another hour. Then there was a bustle at the door, and a group of men entered the hall. About six of them wore the familiar white overalls. They seemed subservient to three others who looked like executives or managers of some kind, in suit and tie; the only strange things about their outfit was a hole in the front of their trousers, where their dicks hung free and visible.

The entire group came round to the row of bunks I was in, simply starting with the first. It was about five bunks down from mine, so I could observe what was happening pretty well. There was a brunette in it, with an olive complexion and firm yet bouncy tits. The men stood around the foot end of her bunk, watching her widely spread pussy as if it was some sort of strange natural phenomenon. The executives who seemed to be in charge nodded to one of the white guys, who produced a vibrator and applied an orgasm to her. She came pretty fast; the spread-out bondage had apparently had the same effect on her as it had on me. The executive looked at one of the other white men holding a watch, who said: “37 seconds.”

Another white man typed at a tablet, as if taking down a match score. The executive replied: “There must be more heat left in her then. Another one. “

He took half a step back and crossed his arms as the first white man repositioned the vibrator on her clit again, and repeated the procedure. It took longer now; the second measurement was 1:19. The executive still wasn’t happy about that, and just said: “Again.”

It was clear that the girl was in agony when the vibrator was put back on her clit again. Her body struggled to facilitate yet another release. She squirmed and jolted and moaned in her bondage, but the wand was mercilessly held in position as she limped and stumbled towards her third orgasm in a row. She screamed up to the ceiling of the hall when it engulfed her, and the second white man reported 3:22.

The executive was finally happy. He just mumbled: “Not bad, not bad at all!” to no one in particular, then turned to a second executive and said: “OK Joe, let’s see how she deals with a bit tougher challenge…”, and looking down the long row of bunks he added: “And let’s get a move on this one, there’s quite some work ahead of us!”

Joe was a man with a pockmarked face which resembled a pitbull, and his dick clearly rose an inch or two when he was addressed. He smiled, but there was no cordiality at all in it when he said: “Sure, Mike, I’ll get going right away!”

He reached for his hip, where a riding crop dangled from his belt. I shivered and thought to myself, he’s not really going to do that, right? But he did. Mike stepped aside to give Joe room for his diabolical dealings. He stepped forward, raising the crop. The girl’s eyes widened in sheer horror as he lay the tip of it exactly on the tip of her clit. Joe’s smile got even wider when she gasped in the alarm of dreaded anticipation; he was really enjoying this. Poor clitty, I thought, and right after a streak of three orgasms! I shivered myself when I thought about how Mike had hinted at working the entire row of bunks like this… I would certainly not be spared similar treatment!

Joe took a final aim to make sure he would hit his target dead center, then raised his arm for the first blow.