The Workhouse

[BarefootNikki]

It had rained for three days, and the downpours had turned the vile streets of Whitechapel into a morass. The girl known only as Georgie ploughed onwards, almost blinded by the driving rain and unlit alleys, her blonde hair plastered to her face, a chill cutting harshly through every bone in her body. Her bare feet sank deep into the black filth. The stinking slime pulled at her toes like a swamp, making each step a forced effort of will. She moved with purpose but without rush; for though she had been going for three miles already, she was in no great hurry to arrive. She knew too well what awaited her when she did.

She thought of it as her last resort, but knew that wasn’t quite true. Even on such a dreadful night as this, men emerged from the taverns as she passed, shouting at her, letting her know what she could do to earn a gin and a bed. That was truly her last resort, opening her mouth and her legs for the unwashed member of a drunkard, on her knees in an alleyway, splashing in filth to find the coin she had earned, white dollops of slime dripping from her face. She knew that some, maybe most, girls would pick that fate over what she had in store, but George would not give up her virtue so easily. It was all she had left.

Finally she arrived, a shiver of dread gripping her as the black building loomed above her. She would get out again, she told herself, and next time it would be with a better plan, and a much better idea of what awaited her on the streets of east London. Six months, a year at most, and she would be free again, and she would make sure it was permanent. In the meanwhile, well, she would just have to survive as best she could. She raised a trembling hand, hating herself for the fear she felt, and rapped on the old wooden door of the workhouse.

 

[BRIGHTWELL]

The Late Shift

The large two floor building stands like a tomb for the unwary. The sparse candle light did little bring any warmth to those brutalized worker that found their way to this long forgotten sanctuary. Their hopes and dreams long since shattered at the hands of supervisors that took great pleasure in torturing and debasing the desperate worker. They stand in line to be picked for the choicer jobs. Those not picked knew that their work night would be as unpleasant as the boss felt like making it.

Marcus Seal's mousey face lears at one of the new girl. Her grey shift was ripped by one of the other bosses. She hangs her head so not to have to look into his eyes. His evil grin gives away his lewd intent. He runs his hand through his thinning brown hair. He leans his head ever so slightly to get a glance at her small firm breast. He points to the woman. "You Missy, you get to work in the box room tonight."

Missy picks up her head and gives him a small smile. Then looks down again, knowing he could change his mind if he chooses too. "Thank you Mister Seals" She gathers her meager belongings and moves toward the door out of the sorting room. Four more women were picked to work in the box room. They all knew they would have to thank Mr. Seal personally, during their short breaks they received or they would not be called on again.

After Mister Seal makes his picks for the box room. The next boss takes his turn, to hand pick his own crew. Steven Allen rubs his chin as he looks over the room of women standing against the workhouse wall. Marcus had picked one of his favorite girls. The tall raven haired woman named Carla. Carla gave the best blowjobs in the entire workforce. He pursed his lips and nods his head slightly. It will be a long shift so he wants women that will work and not talk back. He picks out three women and sends them to the folding room. He takes his time deciding on the last two. He picks a thin blond named Kara and a black girl from France, Marsha. He turns to the next boss and says "All yours, Fred."

Fredrick Marsh has the largest of the work crews. 90% of the left over woman will be the backbone of the labor force. Doing most heavy lifting and back breaking manual production work. Those left over get the worst job in the work house, the house porters.

The house porters are supervised by Nick Marshell. A tall thin man with a long thin scare on his face. The house porters are the body slaves to all the bosses. They litterly run from one boss to the other, with what ever the boss wants at a moments notice. Frequent beatings are common on this job. Torn clothing can occure when a girl makes the smallest mistake.

Ten minutes after the house porters gather for their first work assignments. The guard at the worker's door hears a rapping at the door. He opens the door and looks at the bare footed woman. "All the work for tonight has...." Nick Marshell stand next to the door. "I need an extra house porter tonight...you want the job?"