"Wider," he said.
"I… I can't," she gasped.
"I bet I can. Want me to try!" he snapped.
She groaned in pain as she eased her pussy lips just a little further apart, pulling hard with her fingers.
"Okay, stand up straight," he said.
She gasped and pulled her fingers out, then straightened up and turned around.
"Sit down in that chair there," he ordered, pointing to a hard, straight-backed chair before the desk.
Meghan said down, primly closing her legs.
"Don't sit like that. Sit like the slut you are," he sneered. "Drape your legs across the arms and slouch down."
Meghan slowly opened her legs, then, one at a time, draped them across the wooden arms.
"Slouch down more," he said.
She slumped lower, so he could see her pussy easily.
"Good. Now jerk off."
"What!" she gasped.
"Masturbate. I want to see ya masturbate!"
"I… but… why!"
"It's a major request for some of our customers. They like to see snotty girls jerk off for them. You'll be doing a lot worse before long, honey. You'll be fucking niggers on stage and sucking their donkey dicks, and you'll be doing fag acts with other girls, using dildos on each other while the crowd watches. If you're shy, you're sure gonna get it worked out of you."
She stared at him in stunned horror, unable to comprehend a life like that, the humiliation, the embarrassment and degradation.
"Go on, jerk off."
"I… I can't," she whimpered. "I can't do that stuff. I can't! I won't!"
She jerked her legs off the arms and jumped to her feet, then ran to the door. She tugged desperately on it, but it was locked.
She twisted around, staring at him in terror.
"Please! Please let me go! My parents will pay you money."
"Not nearly enough," he grinned, getting to his feet.
"Why are you doing this to me!?" she screamed.
"Because I can," he drawled, walking slowly over to her.
She cringed back against the door, then burst into tears. She clung to the doorknob, sobbing as she sank down onto her knees beside it, tears pouring down her face as the tall man stood over her and glared down.
"I've had girls gutted for trying to escape," he said. "You want to stay alive, slut, you'll do what you're told and be damned happy about it. Now get up and get over to that desk," he glared. "NOW!" he yelled.
Meghan cried out in fear, then, still sobbing, crawled to her feet and shuffled over to the desk.
He followed her.
"Bend over the desk," he ordered.
She bent over, her tears falling on the hard wood as the warden put a hand against the back of her head and shoved her down flat on the desk top.
"Now you gotta be punished," he sighed. "See what you're making me do!"
He caressed her round buttocks with his hand, then stood back to one side.
"I'm gonna have to cane that pretty little ass of yours, girl," he said. He went around to the other side of the desk and opened a drawer, taking out a long, thin, flexible cane, "You get twenty strokes if you don't move. Understand! Every time you move, you get another stroke. So if you keep jumping around this can go on till your ass is torn to pieces."
Me moved around behind her again and swished the cane through the air a few times.
"Every time the cane hits your ass, you're gonna thank me. Got that!"
"Got that!" he snapped.
"Ye… ye… yes," she whimpered.
"Let me hear you."
"Wha…"
"Let me hear you say thank you."
"Tha… thank youoooo," she whimpered.
"Thank you, Sir," he snapped.
"Thank you, s… Sir," she sobbed.
"Best remember that. If you forget, the stroke doesn't count and I'll have to do it again."
"Please don't hurt me," she wailed.
"Too late for that, baby. You should have thought of that before you tried to escape. Now remember, hold still, and thank me for every stroke."
He raised the cane, his eyes on her quivering little round behind, then swung it down. It hissed through the air, then struck her soft white flesh with a CRACK! of noise.