The princess prepares to leave, learning that she is to go to a "Correctional Farm"

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, with Yania locked alone in the custom's facility dressed back in her patient's gown. She was given a meal of soup and water, and retired to bed early with nothing but her own thoughts for company. As the night rolled on she felt so ashamed, so used, ... and as it became later so horny as the day's events replayed over and over in her mind. Her own body's wantonness made her ashamed all over again, and she refused to masturbate. In this state, sleep did not come easily or quickly, and when it did her sleep was troubled and fitful.

Her door opened, no knock. The princess startled awake, swinging her legs out of bed. Goodchild's fat red face entered her room, a smile plastered on it.

"Someone must have been very interested in what we found in your little box, Ms. Kalawi. You've got a fella that drove straight here from Langley just to escort you out of here." Out of here? So she was leaving. But where to? Princess Yania didn't know whether to be more frightened or, just a little, hopeful. Maybe she could explain to whoever was taking her that she was detained unlawfully, that she was not the person that her paperwork said, that she had connections back home, if they would just listen for a moment ... "Next day service from Uncle Sam himself, never seen anything like that here."

Goodchild finished opening the door and an expressionless, dark-haired tall man in a gray suit stood beside him. Mirror aviator shades covered his eyes, revealing nothing. He looked like the stereotype of a government spook, pulled from a comic. "I'm Officer Ross. You will leave this facility with me, Miss." The government agent took a pair of handcuffs from some mysterious place in his suit. "Put out your hands, Miss." Yania was promptly cuffed. Not a good first sign, but at least she would still be able to speak. First, though, she wanted to get away from the cruel gaze of Goodchild as quickly as she could.

Not quickly enough. "No goodbye kiss?" The disgusting man asked. Yania looked to her right, but Officer Ross had stopped in his tracks. His face was unmoving, not even really looking in her direction. No help there. Yania took a breath and looked into Goodchild's leering face, planning to give him as short a kiss as possible and get the hell out of there.

Officer Goodchild, of course, had other plans. He reached through the slit in the back of her gown grabbing her firm brown behind roughly in one hand, pulling her hips close to his. His other hand grabbed the back of the princess' head and neck, angling her face into his. Goodchild's thick mouth practically engulfed the princess' lips as he sloppily began ravishing her face. His tongue fought his way into her mouth, practically fucking the inside of her face with the fat, slimy piece of muscle. The hand caressing her ass began crawling lower, into the lightly haired folds of her pussy, and Yania opened her eyes wide, wanting to scream. Against her resolve to just take her last bit of humiliation and leave Yania began pushing against the much stronger man's chest with her delicate, cuffed hands.

Finally Goodchild seemed to be done after his long, invasive kiss, but his hand still held her hair as the other was still crawling into her pussy. "Thank me for your pleasant stay," he said, staring into her beautiful brown eyes.

Yania just wanted anything to get away this man who had abused, ****, her body and mind over the last day. With one of Goodchild's fat fingers now fucking her pussy, she briefly kissed his lips and followed this act of minor submission with, "Thank you, sir. Thank you for helping me enjoy my time here." The tears in her eyes belied her words, but Goodchild grinned nonetheless. He slowly withdrew his hand from her now-moist vaginal lips, his finger leaving her insides. Some instinct made Yania grab the offending hand and, with cuffed wrists, bring it to her lips. She locked eyes with Goodchild as her young lips parted and engulfed the entire offending digit as she slowly licked her own wetness off of his finger.

"If you two are done playing around, it's time to go." Officer Ross' flat words broke the spell; and an ashamed, broken Yania whirled away from her abuser, putting herself into a different man's custody.

"Cum back anytime!" Officer Goodchild's voice followed her down the facility hallway, haunting her. Yania felt like puking, disgusted with herself.

Officer Ross escorted her outside and to a parked black van with a windowless back. He took her around the backside and opened it. It was obviously made for prisoner transport, divided from the driver and with a bench on either side, hooks and latches everywhere to chain up whoever it was transporting. He wordlessly directed Yania to a spot where her feet were manacled, then attached by chain to her arms, which was then attached to the ceiling.

Having regained whatever bit of herself she could, Yania looked at Officer Ross as he was chaining her up. "Please, sir," She whispered, then a little louder, "Please, I'm not the woman that those papers say. My name is Yania. Princess Yania, I am from-"

"I know who you are." Officer Ross replied shortly, cutting her off. His words shocked Yania, if he knew, then that meant...

"You will be secure until you reach Correctional Farm R1187. Anything further that you need to know will be taken care of by the master of that facility." Ross' voice was unchanging in tone, and uncaring. He did a last pull of Yania's chains and exited the van, closing the door behind him. She heard footsteps around the side of the van, then the engine starting. In her windowless world, Yania wept for what felt like the thousandth time since leaving her home.