The system of justice in Third World and other developing countries can be imperfect and sometimes outright corrupt. This is especially often the case the case for innocent Western visitors who get caught up in those countries’ anti-drug or anti-terrorism campaigns. And it is also especially bad for innocent Western females. The sentences are harsh and without mercy – and the foreign women are frequently subjected to long-term or even life-terms of abuse, humiliation and sexual slavery. Many times the involved prosecutors and judges have direct knowledge that their comely Western defendant is without guilt but they will convict her anyway in order to have her in their clutches; a sweet foreign girl who will be readily available for all sorts of sexual perversions and enjoyments.
Myra Collins was guilty only of being the traveling companion of a drug-buying boyfriend but that didn’t deter Judge Gonzales from handing down a life sentence for her. Myra was in a disbelieving daze as she was shuttled into the Judge’s rear office afterwards and she was not prepared for being stripped naked and for the hard stapping from the his belt. And was even more unprepared for being positioned over the Judge’s desk and fucked.
“You stuck-up Gringa girls think you can come in this country and flout your bad manners and disrespect for our laws? Well, I’m going to show you how the rest of your life is going to be, bitch! Now shut up and push back against my cock like the dirty whore you are,” Judge Gonzales grunted as he started pounding his shaft hard in Myra’s tight, reluctant pussy.
Myra’s journey into this particular Latin American country’s prison system began with her being transported to the prison reception area by devoted guards Guzman and Garcia, two men who were determined to be among the first to introduce Myra to the country’s especial ways of greeting attractive new female inmates. After all, a pretty white gal like Myra had to be taught the customs and traditions of her new environment; the first and most important being that her love holes were there to be used by any of the guards who wished to use them, whenever they wished to use them. In Garcia’s and Guzman’s opinion, the sooner that Myra was taught this lesson, the better it would be for her future stay in the dark, dungeon-like Women’s Prison.
Myra’s cries were loud and shrill as Guard Garcia bounced her asshole up and down over his big dick.
“Uggghhhhh….that’s right, bitch! Si! You’re really gettin’ the hang of it,” Garcia complimented through clenched teeth as he struggled to keep from cumming too soon. The Gringa girl’s ass was so tight, felt so good….
“Si, I can tell that you’re not going to get lonely here. All the guards will be doing their best to keep you company…”
In the downstairs holding cells of the Eastern European courthouse, Diana was discovering that the country’s recent embrace of Western-style democracy was not as complete as previously thought. The evidence at her trial had been false and her legal representation had be an absolute sham as they convicted her on trumped-up charges of supporting terrorism. It was clear that the so-called “terrorist leader” authorities had arrested was in fact the wrong person – but the government was too embarrassed to admit their mistake and was willing to let the real terrorist to escape rather than to be seen as the incompetents that they were. So with the tacit consent of their Western allies, the government had decided to preserve the honor and dignity of it’s intelligence services by torturing a false confession from the agonized lips of the poor dupe that they had arrested in order to gloss things over. In the course of water-boarding, the electric shocks and the beatings, the false terrorist had bleated out many names of friends and acquaintances; anything to stop the torture. Among the names he had given them was that of that visiting English student, Diana. Diana, who had no idea why the police had come for her and who would be ignored by her own home country’s government as she was convicted in a ‘secret court’….
Diana’s insistence on her innocence and her refusal to sign her name to a false confession did not please those who had prosecuted and convicted her. To have her continue to call attention to the shoddy show-trial that had resulted in her fifty-year sentence might be an real embarrassment for all those involved. So certain measures had to be taken before Diana could be taken to the special prison where she would be incarcerated. The special guards were very experienced in the ways of breaking a prisoner and making them say and sign whatever confessions that were needed. This Western girl would be no problem. In fact, Diana was already begging for the whipping to stop. But it would be a full week before they would stop – and by then Diana would be obedient and broken. so thoroughly broken…
In the despotic East African ‘republic’, tourist Amy Hannigan had been guilty on of helping bandage the wounds of the frightened African man who had stumbled into her hotel room. She had no way of knowing that this stranger was one of the rebels who had been fighting against the dictatorial regime that ran that very beautiful but also very oppressed country. Unfortunately for Amy, the soldiers were not far behind and as a result, she soon found herself accused of aiding the insurgency and quickly tired and given a life sentence. In this particular country, justice was simply an illusion and there were no appeals.
For an innocent Western white girl like Amy, life in an African Womens’ prison was harder than even she had expected. The black women inmates considered Amy as their pale-skinned prize; a easily intimidated pretty little thing with those thin lips that were just perfect for licking African pussies and assholes. They beat her and traded her services in exchange for cigarettes, extra food and whatever else one could get for her. Tonight it was the old murderess named Kikura who had claimed Amy to share her small, smelly cot in her small, smelly cell.
“You be nice to Kikura tonight, huh?” Kikura’s old fingers were strong around Amy’s throat as she looked sternly into the white girl’s face. ” I traded three cigarettes for you, so you please me good, huh? You lick my pussy , huh? You eat my ass, yes? Yes, you be good girl to Kikura. Be real good all night…..”
Being an innocent female prisoner is so much harder than being one who is rightfully imprisoned for a crime that she had actually committed. An innocent like Barbara Trent, so wrongly convicted for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, especially suffered from the fact that she would be spending her long prison sentence in this South American country so far from any family or friends. None of the authorities would listen to Barbara’s pitiful pleas and protests; nobody would listen to her complaints that the drugs that were found in her handbag had actually been put there without her knowledge by a boyfriend who had escaped the country. A boyfriend who now denied having anything to do with her.
The prison guards had no interest in whether new inmate Barbara was actually innocent like she claimed. All they cared for was how Barabara’s pussy took their slamming cocks and how quickly she learned to use her cute mouth to massage and milk the cum up from their balls. “Now you get it all down your slut’s throat… no worries if you choke, it will only add to the fun, HAHAHA!”
Sometimes nice people make the mistake of assuming that good intentions can only bring good results. That was indeed the case of Harriet and Julia, two eighteen year-old European religious students who had volunteered to spend the summer in this hot, humid Tropical country on a mission to bring some education to the poor and neglected rural peasants there. So naive of them not to be aware that certain powerful sectors of the nation’s ruling elite would bitterly regard the work of all those foreign missionary students as a danger to the ‘established order’ and the ‘old way’ of doing things. The peasants so greatly appreciated the help that Julia and Harriet provided for their impoverished village but they could do noting to protect the girls when the armed thugs came in the night to take them away.
There was not trial, no publicity, no acknowledgment pertaining to Harriet’s and Julia’s disappearance. No government entity claimed to have any idea as to who the men were who had taken the two young Western females away and what had happened to them. Perhaps bandits, the government spokesmen had opined…..
But if their relatives and friends were confused and concerned about the whereabouts and fate of Julia and Harriet, the other veteran inmates of the steamy, isolated Alto Women’s’ Prison were making sure that the two white girls were being well taken care of and kept busy. None of the older, hardened women inmates knew or cared as to what these two Anglos had done to bring them to so desolate a prison such as Alto, a place located within the far reaches of the jungle forest reserved for the most incorrigible, dangerous female criminals – but they did love how both Julia and Harriet were becoming so sexually obedient and servile……
“Nobody will ever find you here girls…. We all serving life here… so better you start getting friendly to us, it’ll save you a lot of trouble!”
It didn’t matter that the young white missionary named Raquel was innocent of the charge of spying against the Eastern African Republic. It only mattered that the Republic’s brutal and paranoid authorities said that Raquel was guilty. After all, who in this oppressed nation would even dare to suggest otherwise? The regime’s military rulers were indifferent to any pressures or concerns expressed by Raquel’s Western homeland, so there was practically nothing that could be done to help her in this dire predicament. Raquel’s arrest and 20 – year sentence would serve as a blunt warning to those remaining Western missionaries who might consider speaking up in any way against the nation’s military dictator and his close group of corrupt cronies.
It was not enough that Raquel had been falsely tried and convicted by the African regime. To maintain even the facade of having a valid justice system, it was also very important that this white foreigner sign a confession stating that the Regime’s shoddy charges were indeed true; that she was indeed guilty of agitating and encouraging sedition against the peaceful Eastern African Republic. Throughout the trial, Raquel had steadfastly denied the trump-up charges against. Now that she was safely out of sight of the Western press, she could be dealt with in such a way as to ‘encourage’ her swift signing of the bogus confession that had been prepared for her.
Captain Minboko again held up the prepared confession in front of the teary-eyed Raquel. She had only endured a few minutes of the heavy-handed flogging from the big African female guards and she was already screaming and begging for it to stop. “You sign this now, white girl. You sign this and tell how you guilty of what judge say. Do it and Miss Simku and Miss Nuteri will not hurt you more. Sign it and I take you down and fuck you with my big cock. You’ll like it! Then Nuteri and Simku will love you and teach you many things you’ll like too…..”
Being the only white girl incarcerated in an African women’s’ prison will make her a center of attention, of course – no matter if she’s actually done something to deserve being there or not. Sherry hadn’t done anything to deserve being tossed into this dank, humid Nigerian Women’s’ Prison. The real culprit, the similar-looking blond financial scam artist who had been fleeing the authorities, had taken a room next to Sherry in the upscale Lagos hotel. Wrong information and haste had resulted in a terrified and bewildered Sherry being slapped, handcuffed and rudely taken away by the irate police who had stormed her room. Her protests of innocence would fall on deaf ears; to their thinking, this was the slippery, tricky blond foreigner who had eluded them for months and now they had her. The Interpol information on the fugitive had cautioned that she was a women who could talk her way out of practically anything. “Shut up, you American bitch! You won’t escape us this time!”
The middle-of-the-night court hearing had only lasted a bit over five minutes, just enough time for the sleepy, hostile African judge to yell at her to be quiet while he denied her bail and order her to be locked up until they were ready to take her to trial – perhaps in a month or two if things went along on time…..
Sherry pale skin and hair was so exotic to the hordes of Black African women inmates who populated the prison. A series of hard slaps and threats immediately made it clear to Sherry that resisting their prurient attentions would only bring more, perhaps serious pain or injury. When the biggest , toughest black dyke and her girlfriend cornered her and started probing her with their crude hands, Sherry could do nothing except cringe in tearful humiliation.
“This white girl has such a tight pussy,” the big dyke told her girlfriend. “Yes, you and I will take her first. Maybe we’ll keep her so we don’t have to leave the cell if we need to use the toilet…”
Sometimes it might be best for a truly innocent prisoner to swallow her pride and falsely admit to whatever charge that lodged against her. Although consenting to being labelled ‘guilty’ while knowing that one is innocent might temporarily be humiliating and might bring on a bout of depression, it could very well be much more preferable to other possible repercussions that might result from defying the expressed wishes or opinion of the authorities. Especially in the small South American town of Yucapaz.
When Carrie was arrested on the charge of being a part of a drug ring, she rightly insisted upon her innocence. She had only had a brief conversation with the two fellow American tourists at the seaside bar. The two men had flirted and bought her a few drinks, but she had declined their veiled sexual propositions and they had parted on good terms after an hour of discussing the humid local weather and the wonderful, lush beauty of the tropical countryside. But to the watching authorities, Carrie had been immediately tabbed as a likely contact of the two Yankee drug traffickers that they had been following for over a month. They didn’t listen to Carrie’s desperate insistence that they were mistaken concerning her relationship with the drug-runners; in fact, they deeply resented her refusal to acknowledge what they were so sure to be true. They would put her on trial – but they would also make sure that when it became time, Carrie would admit to everything just as they had it written out. The Yucapaz police had a knack of getting confessions…..
Sergeant Jimenez had no doubt that he would have the Yankee girl Carrie’s confession of guilt down on paper within a few hours. The girl was weak, not tough like his girlfriend Yvettia, whom he had enlisted to help him in getting what he wanted. Yvettia loved to use her personal little leather strap on other girls, especially while he watched. That never failed to get Yvettia all hot and bothered, which always suited Jimenez just fine. And Yvettia hardly ever failed to break a female prisoner with her heavy-armed flogging; the prisoner was usually crying and begging for mercy within an hour. Jimenez figured that Carrie might last a mere 15 minutes or so before she gave in to whatever demands were made of her. Besides the false confession, Sergeant Jimenez and his girlfriend would also have other very specific demands in mind….. “Come with momma, little one. I’ll tell you the program. First I’m gonna whip you raw until you sign your confession, then we all have some fun… You know, some pussy liking, some ass lapping, some buggering and some straight fucking… I’ll chew on those nice tits of yours too. That’s gonna hurt… A lot!”
For Captain Cussaki, this would be his very first experience at conducting an ‘enhanced interrogation’ – as his sly superiors liked to call it. He had witnessed many ‘enhanced interrogation’ sessions, but had never had the chance to take part in one himself. Until now. The opportunity had come with the arrest and detention of this supposed ‘foreign exchange student’. What was her name? Mildred or something like that. No matter, it was probably not her true name anyway. Everyone knew that most of the Westerners who visited his country were most likely spies or troublemakers just up to no good. Of course they all said that they were just studying or visiting – but the Captain and those above him all knew that all Westerner were a bunch of liberal, ‘pro-democracy’ do-gooders who were plotting against this regime’s hld on power. This Mildred claimed the cell phone that she carried in her purse was just that, but the police and intelligence agents were sure that all those extra buttons and features that it contained just had to be something more sinister. Perhaps some kind of secret radio transmitter or something….. Well, this was Captain Cussaki’s big chance to impress the higher-ups with his astute talents.
“It’s just you and me now, girl. No one to hear you scream and carry on when I start hurting you. So I suggest you start talking right now! You tell me about what kind of spying you’re doing in my country and tell me who your superiors are and I’ll go easy on you. Just slap you around and maybe fuck you a little. But if you keep on telling me that you’re innocent and all that, it’s going to be a very, very unpleasant time for you….”
As the head of the guards at Alto Women’s Prison, Officer Nepotante was responsible for carrying out the operational orders that were issued from his superiors in the far-off capital. Orders issued by fat, lazy, politically-minded know-nothings who knew nothing about what really went on in the distant penal institutions like Alto. They didn’t know or care about the rotten food, almost unbearable heat and deplorable living conditions that both the Prison’s inmates and staff had to endure on a daily and nightly basis. To those in the Capital, it was simply a matter of typing instructions and sending them out to acted on. But Officer Nepotante was responsible for making sure things went alright here at Alto and sometimes that meant doing things his way.
Yet another pair of Gringa prisoners had been brought to Alto. These two young American females had been observed making suspicious trips to villages and other locations that were well off the beaten path for normal tourists; not the kind of places that foreigners would visit if they weren’t up to no good. Norma Maupin and Jan Bower had to be guilty of something. Although they both claimed to be mere college anthropology students, Miss Maupin and Miss Bower were now considered as detained spies and now were Alto Women’s’ Prison newest inmates.
The orders to Officer Nepotante were that Norma and Jan were to be keep in an isolated cell, away from the rest of the women prisoners and prison staffers. Furthermore, outside of bringing them their meals and coming in to collect their toilet pots twice a day, even Nepotante was not to speak or have any other kind of interaction with them. To Nepotante, this was ridiculous! What kind of prison was this if a couple of cute foreign bitches like these couldn’t be fucked and made to provide entertainment like the rest of the inmates? Screw those people who gave such orders! These two new inmates would get the same attention that he gave all the other attractive gals here at Alto. Nepotante had such fun disobeying orders; he made it a point to fuck Jan and Norma at least once a day. He made it clear to both of them that they were no better than the rest of the bitches there, slamming each one’s obedient pussy and asshole with his big cock in the roughest and crudest manner and treating them like common whores.
Officer Nepotante was not a man who believed in keeping a good thing all to himself – or two good things in this particular case. Norma and Jan had provided him with many hours of good fucking, giving it up and giving in to his every demand. Nepotante just loved fucking Gringa prisoners; they were so servile and compliant…… Now Nepotante had decided to share Jan and Norma with some of his favoured women inmates.
“Look how the blond one is eating Maria’s ass,” giggled one of Nepotante’s ladies. ” She looks like she’s a real natural at it.”
“Well, Maria’s always into that,” answered another inmate. “For me, I think I’m gonna let that other little bitch lick my cunt ’til her tongue gets raw. Hope ol’ Emelda doesn’t sit on her face all damn night….!”
But is anyone truly innocent? When the Peruvian police arrested Mimi McFerson on the charge of passing bad checks, they might have been wrong on that specific charge; they would discover a week later that an error in the luxury hotel’s computer system has caused it to misread the account number of Mimi’s check.
But in the meanwhile, Mimi’s wealthy parents back hometown America and Mimi’s high-profile law firm would be unable to do anything to prevent her from being locked away in the Peruvian prison for women named Le Femosa. In a way, this was so fitting a situation for Mimi because if she was indeed innocent of financial malfeasance, she was so guilty of other things: Like being arrogant and rude to those hard-working clerks, drivers and maids at the hotel; of being anxious to find fault with whatever service given to her, no matter how fine the service rendered to her. Mimi McFerson had travelled through Peru with that well-ingrained attitude of social and cultural superiority that had left a sour wake in all the other places that had been unfortunate to have her as a visitor. It was perhaps no coincidence that after one of Miss Mcferson’s pouty outbursts towards the courtroom judge, that the request for bank information verifying her story mysteriously sat on a court clerk’s desk for an additional two days before being faxed.
Was it Mimi’s guilt of having a bad personality that resulted in her now being locked away with hundreds of this South American city’s worse female criminals and prostitutes? Was it her long history of bad karma that now exposed her to the attentions of the many hardened brown-skinned dykes who grabbed, pinched and groped her tender body with their rude hands? Why did the guards chuckle and turn their backs when a half-dozen or so women dragged this cringing blond American in a corner and forced her to her knees in order to have her mouth and tongue service their demanding cunts, one after the other? Maybe here, maybe in her time in this place, Mimi was finally facing a bit of some long-overdue justice…..
“You will come with me now, to my cell,” Xhantria Ortega’s moist but firm dark lips tugged on Mimi’s earlobe as she half-breathed the words in her deep, blunt voice. Xhantria was one of the feared prison trustees in this grey, dank Peruvian women’s’ penal institution. This American girl would no longer have to worry about being forced to lick dozens of pussies each nigh when the lights went off. “Come, hurry, American girl. Xhantria is hot for you.” The Indian woman’s strong hands dug into Mimi’s arm as she steered the sobbing girls towards the open cell at the end of the corridor.
The coarse matted black hairs that surrounded Ortega’s pussy were now soaked from excitement and the anticipation. of Mimi’s warm and obedient mouth…..
“Hmmmm…here we are. Get down now and kiss my feet, girl. Then I show you how I like being pleased….”
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