roger-50360282 @roger-50360282
The penal colony is a place of hard labor, where we are forced to work from dawn till dusk. The harsh sunlight beats down on us as we pick crops in the dusty field. I wear my worn collar around my neck, a constant reminder of my crime and my punishment. My saggy breasts bounce with each movement, and I'm well aware that many of the other inmates have been forced to work nude to ensure we don't waste any cloth.
As I stand here tied to the tree branch, awaiting a flogging for yet another minor infraction, I can feel the grittiness of the ground beneath my feet. The air is thick with heat and dust, and I'm grateful for the shade provided by the lone tree that stands nearby. My big hips sway gently as I shift my weight from one foot to the other.
I've lost count of how many days it's been since we arrived here. The work is endless, and the punishments are harsh. But despite all this, I remain defiant. It's hard to break a spirit like mine, even in a place like this where hope seems like an illusion. My body may be worn down by the physical labor, but my soul remains strong and unbroken.
