Date: Wed, 19 Mar 2008 00:46:40 -0400 From: d.a. w <daw62@hotmail.com> Subject: Farm Part 6 MEN, thanks for those who e-mailed me to ask what had happened to this story. Other obligations have interfered with my writing. I know what I have in mind, but have trouble finding time to write. I guess I need a MASTER to take control of me and force me to be more efficient. I am too weak on my own. Any way as an author I am extremely grateful to everyone who writes me with feedback on the story. An author lives to know that what he has written has been interesting to others as well as to himself. Thanks again. I know where the story is going and have it completely written in my head, and I will sincerely try to get it typed out more quickly. As I said this boi responds well to the whip. (evil grin) THE FARM PART 6 VIRTUE HAS ITS REWARD, and VICE ITS PAIN Just as no longer was there any contempt in his expression as Andrew surveyed his fellow convict-slaves so they stared at him with the blank stares of people who are too exhausted to care about anything but rest. Andrew took the borrowed gloves from his waist band and began to hand them back to 987. This time 987 just waved them back to Andrew and said quietly, "You've earned them, and will earn them." The other cons nodded slightly and even Andrew, who did not completely understand the full meaning of what was being said to him, realized that his acceptance into the brotherhood of slaves was now to the place that they would no longer exact cruel jokes as a price of bringing him down. Andrew was down. Attached to the long chain, Andrew just wanted to rest, but he remembered that rest was not going to be allowed until punishment for transgressions during the day was exacted. As the truck traveled down the roads, the slaves' chains clanked merrily. Their merry sounds were in stark contrast to the silence of the dull and depressed men that those merry chains controlled and held. Finally all the slaves were collected, and the truck headed to the jail. Andrew began feeling a tightness in his stomach. He began adding up his stripes that he knew he would receive. It started with the two that he was sure that he had agreed he would receive with the razor strap for 987. Then he mentally added up at least two for the lunch sack, three for the woman with the diaper, two for failure to repeat an order, and whatever he would receive for the five pieces of trash. He thought of asking a guard what his punishment would be for each item of trash, but then decided he did not want to know. He added up his total several times on the trip. Each time he concluded that twelve was he minimum stripes he would receive from the punishment strap, and two was the minimum he would receive from the razor strap. Andrew could not imagine that he could survive that many assaults on his out-of-shape body. He shivered with terror at the realization that he would survive those stripes, and that he would survive them in extraordinary agony. Andrew remembered a day earlier when he was at the Farm watching slaves receive their stripes. He remembered the calmness that he had felt as the leather slammed into their flesh, and his satisfaction at the groans of pain that the whips forced from those poor slaves. Now he knew that his soft ass and body were going to receive an introductory beating that would make him scream until he could scream no more. His pain would be worse than it would be for the seasoned slaves simply because their slave hides WERE thicker. Whips built up their hides through the many blows that their bodies had received. Well, he smiled to himself sardonically, if he had to do this more than one day, his hide would certainly be hardened quickly by the willing help of the officers who would own him and control his life. The truck turned into the jail compound. The large gates opened slowly, and Andrew along with the other slaves bounced as the truck pulled off the street into the loading area. Other trucks were there unloading their chained slaves into the slave home. The truck pulled around and backed up to the loading dock. Andrew's companions all got ready to be released from their truck chain and enter the huge black box which was their place of punishment and what little rest was allowed them. Andrew thought to himself that the ominous, black, several-story structure for the convicts was an approach-avoidance conflict. The prisoners knew that the only rest they would have was there, but also there was where their punishment and pain also resided. The guards released the prisoners, and the prisoners climbed off the truck and Andrew followed the others into the building. He felt he was being swallowed by a big black void. Inside the prisoners stood at attention in a row. A guard stood in front of them and after looking to see that they were at attention announced in a loud voice with absolutely no emotion the fate of the convicts. "Convicts 987, 375, 886, and 756 report to the red door for punishment prep. Other convicts report to the gray door to observe punishment." Andrew smiled as he noted that even though he saw the guard's mouth moving, the same level of emotion could come from a computer generated voice. For the convicts this list was anything like routine. To be on the punishment list brought fear, anger, and anguish, but to be on the other list brought relief and the small ray of hope and rest that they were allowed to have in their lives as prisoner/slaves. Andrew did not move. He knew that prisoners did not move and do anything without an order. All prisoners remained at something like attention. "PRISONERS 287, 459, 987, 178, 317. and 756 form up in front of the red door, and other prisoners form up in front of the gray door. When the door opened, and still at attention, but now in a line facing the open portal to their preparation for pain, Andrew felt like he might piss himself. He tried everything to keep from embarrassing himself in this manner, and was finally saved when he heard the order "MARCH SHITHEADS! COCK TO CRACK!" He was the last in line and thus only had to move so close behind the prisoner in front of him to get his cock into that prisoner's crack as much as possible through their two sets of pants. He really could not see what was in front of him because he was so close to the convict in front of him that all he saw was the prisoner's neck and head. Andrew's happiness at not having a cock up his crack was suddenly lessened when he found his ass was to one to receive the sharp smack of the slave strap as the inspiration to move this little band into motion. The strap forced him more into the crack and onto the back of the prisoner in front of him, and the motion moved from prisoner to prisoner until the line was in motion. The punishment line was now in a fairly wide hallway, and at its end was another red door. He knew beyond that door had to be the punishment yard. The first red door slammed shut, and again he involuntarily shuddered at the sound of steel door's slamming shut behind him. There was no chance to retreat from his appointment with pain. "HALT" and "ATTENTION" the guard ordered and the line halted immediately. They were ordered to stand and separate themselves from the cock to crack position to one put one foot distance between prisoners. Andrew saw some prisoners in orange jump suits who, on some unheard seen order or some unseen nod of the guard's head, rushed over to remove the chains between their ankles and wrists. Andrew wondered what these prisoners had to do to earn these cushy jobs in the jail and not on the road gangs. He remained at attention and felt his wrists and ankles being yanked as the chains were removed. Andrew concentrated on keeping as motionless as possible. His concern was validated when he heard to sound of leather striking a body and a crisp but also bored "NO MVEMENT" order was said loudly enough to communicate the command to the lineup of punishment bound prisoners. Once Andrew's chains were removed, a prisoner came over and ordered Andrew "Present ass, dumb shit!" Andrew first was irritated that he had been called "dumb shit" by a fellow prisoner, and then realized that his butt plug was about to be removed, and of course officers would not do this job. He also realized that even in the world of prisoners he was now at the bottom of the order, and even other prisoners were above him and could call him any name they wished. He had descended through the bottom of the order of humans and even further down through the order of prisoner slaves to the bottom order of sub slave fecal matter. He followed the prisoner slave's order and dropped his pants, and bent over. The prisoner began to remove the probably shit covered butt plug. Andrew turned around, leaned over and pulled his butt cheeks apart. He felt the plug being pulled somewhat unwillingly out of him. His ass seemed to have claimed the plug as its own, but resistance in this, as in all, was overcome and out the plug came. He could smell it and knew it was indeed shit covered, "UP" was the command and with his pants still gathered around his ankles, he rose, and only momentarily was he surprised to see the plug, liberally covered with his shit, being brought to his face. "OPEN AND CLEAN" was the order, and trying to keep his stomach under control, Andrew accepted the plug into his mouth and ran his tongue around it, and tried to produce as much saliva as he could to wash it clean. The prisoner who brought his plug to him had handled it with apparent disgust, and Andrew did notice that all the other plugs were much less shit covered than his. Then he realized that the shit on his plug was the last residue of his last meals as a free man. Not much shit would be produced from a breakfast bar, a bologna sandwich, and whatever prisoners were given for a dinner. Beside him Andrew heard the other prisoners having their plugs removed, and inspected and the familiar "CLEAN" being noted. Andrew renewed his washing of that metal thing that had controlled and tormented him all day. Now again he lived for the word "CLEAN." His every energy and attention was centered in his mouth and that butt plug. Then suddenly the trusty prisoner again appeared in front of him and, as was the norm of his new life, without asking, yanked the plug out of his mouth. Andrew noted that the trusty looked it over as he walked it to an officer who looked at each one and inspected it. Andrew thought again that guards were not much better off then the prisoners sometimes. Imagine going home and telling your family that you inspected thirty prisoner butt plugs for shit that afternoon. They'd surely be impressed! Again Andrew did an inward smile while being sure his face did not betray his mind. The trusty carefully moved his plug around so that all of it could be inspected. "CLEAN" he heard, and he suddenly realized that he had been holding his breath, and now began breathing again. As in the morning the word "CLEAN" now was one of the most beautiful words in the language. He so concentrated on "CLEAN" that his mind and his stomach accepted that he had just mouth cleaned something covered with his shit and swallowed it back into him. "PRISONERS GET NAKED AND FORM A LINE" was now the order given and so Andrew and the other prisoners unbuttoned their shirts, and took them off. He watched the other prisoners through his peripheral vision and so he folded the shirt and placed it in front of him. He then stepped out of the pants that had been at his ankles, folded them and again stood at attention with his now naked cock and the similarly naked ass crack. "COCK TO CRACK" was the next order, and Andrew moved forward so that his now naked cock was in the similarly naked ass crack in front of him. The skin contact caused his cock to involuntarily get harder as it felt that sensuous skin stimulation. Immediately all the prisoners in front of him started an in-place rhythmic right foot, left foot, and Andrew immediately fell into rhythm, hoping to avoid anther inspirational strapping, but he should have known better. Of course, again the strap fell across his ass, not for any particular offense but that was how a guard got the line moving. IT worked of course. Andrew pushed into the prisoner in front of him and quickly the order traveled by butt communication to the first prisoner. Andrew noted there was a rather interesting sound of the twelve pairs of bare feet thumping together up and down as they marched down a hallway and then through another door and then out into a large open space, which Andrew was more aware of than actually seeing. They marched forward until he and his fellow condemned prisoners heard the order "Line up assholes." In this case asshole was just the friendly way of saying "prisoners" and Andrew noted they were just at a line of footprints and each prisoner immediately moved around to form a straight time with each foot exactly on a footprint. Andrew used his peripheral vision to note that the other prisoners now raised their heads and were looking straight ahead, and he did that also. Even as well conditioned as he already was not to react, the sight ahead of him caused him almost to move, and definitely to shiver. In front of him was a line of three whipping frames. Each frame was constructed of heavy squared wood planks. They were weathered but also substantial. Dangling from the top were some chains and he could see about a foot from the bottom of the two side posts chains also dangled. Now he noted that the chains on the side posts, as well as those at the top post were not attached to the post, but went through the post and were wound around a wench which was itself firmly bolted to the wooden frame. Andrew figured out that the chains could therefore be adjusted to each prisoner, and keep that prisoner spread tightly inside the frame. Andrew again noted that the frame and way that the chains were attached to the posts were much more than would ever be needed to restrain even the most massive prisoner. Clearly the message was that there was absolutely no way once a prisoner was attached to the frame that anything would happen to keep his body from where the guards wanted the prisoner slaves to be. It also occurred to him that the wench arrangement allowed even more torment. A guard could greatly increase the pain for the prisoner by making the chains just a bit more than taught, straining the prisoner's muscles even before the punishment of the straps. In this three ring circus of suffering, he was in the center ring. Again as his mind wondered, he remembered a story that he had been told to be true, that a man about to be lynched in the old West, had said noting the crowd around to watch him hang said as his "...any last words." that "Truly gentlemen, if it weren't for the clear honor of it, I would just as soon pass this appointed honor and show." Andrew agreed. He was going to a star in the center ring, and truly would have much preferred to be in the audience. The prisoners who were witness now came into the punishment yard as a massive thumping beast. Andrew heard and felt the body heat of another line of prisoners behind him, and heard their filling in of the lines on both sides. Their many bare feet all hitting the concrete together and quickly filling their lines of footprints around both sides so that those many feet's owners could watch the miscreants pay in pain for their misdeeds. Just then Andrew saw John walk up to stand beside the center frame, and Andrew now knew that indeed his punishment stripes would each be a broad ribbon on excruciating pain across his body. Andrew was sure that John's appearance was no accident, and that John intended to make a permanent impression on Andrew's body and soul. How much Andrew wished he could have never turned around and opened his mouth that morning, At that point in the morning Andrew was still thinking as his old self. He simply had not adjusted to his new reality. In one day his self concept and his comprehension of his place in this new strange society of guard MASTERS and prisoner slaves was much more advanced. Of course, Andrew did not comprehend that there might be so much more to learn, but that before he left the punishment area, he would have been given an indelible education in how the whip is a great and memorable teacher. The silence was suddenly pierced by John's very deep and menacing voice announce, "PRSIONER 987 -- 3 strokes -- prison strap." All eyes looked at 987, who I recognized as being the front of the line of prisoners of which Andrew was the rear. Then John continued, "PRISONER 987 is excused as per a prisoner to prisoner agreement duly noted by two guards has transferred these strokes to PRISONER 756." Again John paused for all the prisoners in the yard to look at my direction to see what kind of stupid shit-for-brains would take such a severe punishment for another prisoner unless stupid or somehow forced. John noted the subtle questioning of the prisoner mass, and then added for their amazed edification. "Prisoner 756 agreed to take these punishment strokes in return for the one day loan of two worn out gloves." Again a pause as the exact nature the stupidity of prisoner 756 was revealed to everyone. Again you could feel the contempt of the mass for 756 who was such a piece of stupid prisoner shit that it would accept such extreme punishment for something so unimportant and small. I knew that my reputation was now set, and every prisoner would regard me as fair new fish game for the taking. I would have no friends, only users on my ignorance if I had to stay here. I thought of how at the university I was regarded as one of the top professors and egotistically enjoyed the respect and deference of my colleagues. Now in my new world I was labeled as the dumbest of the dumb, a person with a symbolic `KICK ME' sign firmly visible on signboard on my chest and back. John then announced "Prisoner 987 is to be moved to the nearest witness footprints." In my peripheral vision, I saw a guard move over and take 987 back, behind my eyesight. John concluded with a loud "Proceed to the next station punishment." I was somewhat of a daze and only superficially noted that a prisoner on the scaffold to the left of the center one where John stood was called forward, attached and stretched, and received two punishment strokes. He did not yell, but loudly said "THANK YOU BOSS!" after each one. The action then went to the scaffold on the right of the center one, and the scene was repeated. I noted that this prisoner also had a very small number of strokes, was stoic, and properly thanked his punisher for each stroke as each stoked echoed in this enclosed space with that unique sounds of leather applied with force against skin. As the round robin continued, again starting with 375 from my little group, and to the second prisoner in the lineup for each of the three rings of punishment, I noticed that the number of strokes went up for each successive prisoner in each line. After each prisoner received his punishment strokes, each was released from his taught figure "X" and collapsed on the concrete of the punishment arena. Two of the orange clad slaves then came out attached the heavy punishment weight chains to the prisoners wrist and ankle cuffs, and then with a chain leash attached to his collar, pulled him upright, and ducking under his arms pulled and dragged the prisoner out another red door on the opposite side of the arena. It took every inch of will power for me not to quake, to fall, to cry out for mercy, and to piss or even shit myself in the terror that was building up in every fiber of my body. Then there was only one prisoner in each of the three lines. I waited for John to call my number, but instead he glanced to the guard on his left and that guard called out a prisoner who received 18 strokes. This prisoner was unable to say the required "Thank you Boss" after stroke 16, and so the guard announced that prisoner 769 would begin tomorrow's work day with a total for six strokes -- three strokes for every time he failed in his obligation to thank the guard for helping him become a better worker and prisoner. Then the action turned to the last victim on the right side of center stage. I realized for sure now that I was to be the spectacular finale. This prisoner was called out, fastened, and then the guard/punisher moved the wenches one tap more, and the prisoner screamed involuntarily as his limbs were stretched to the maximum. This prisoner was announced to receive 20 strokes, and I was more sure than ever that my last act would be more than 20 and that I too would be super stretched. I saw John looking at me with a look of demonic satisfaction. I knew that I was about to have the most awful few minutes of my life. I was vaguely aware that the prisoner now being tortured had stopped saying his required thanks and that his head, the only part of his body that he could move was slumped down and he had his chin on his chest. Drool was flowing out of his mouth. I mentally thought he looked more dead than alive. "Prisoner 813 has failed to respond properly five times and will begin tomorrow's work with fifteen strokes. The chains were released and 813 crumpled to the concrete. He seemed almost dead. At fifteen strokes tomorrow already, and in his condition I wondered how many strokes he would earn during the day if forced to work. I could see that some prisoners might be on punishment for a long time. It was now my turn in this lowest rung of Hell... MEN, thanks for those who e-mailed me to ask what had happened to this story. Other obligations have interfered with my writing. I know what I have in mind, but have trouble finding time to write. I guess I need a MASTER to take control of me and force me to be more efficient. I am too weak on my own. Any way as an author I am extremely grateful to everyone who writes me with feedback on the story. An author lives to know that what he has written has been interesting to others as well as to himself. Thanks again. I know where the story is going and have it completely written in my head, and I will sincerely try to get it typed out more quickly. As I said this boi responds well to the whip. (evil grin) THE FARM PART 6 VIRTUE HAS ITS REWARD, and VICE ITS PAIN Just as no longer was there any contempt in his expression as Andrew surveyed his fellow convict-slaves so they stared at him with the blank stares of people who are too exhausted to care about anything but rest. Andrew took the borrowed gloves from his waist band and began to hand them back to 987. This time 987 just waved them back to Andrew and said quietly, "You've earned them, and will earn them." The other cons nodded slightly and even Andrew, who did not completely understand the full meaning of what was being said to him, realized that his acceptance into the brotherhood of slaves was now to the place that they would no longer exact cruel jokes as a price of bringing him down. Andrew was down. Attached to the long chain, Andrew just wanted to rest, but he remembered that rest was not going to be allowed until punishment for transgressions during the day was exacted. As the truck traveled down the roads, the slaves' chains clanked merrily. Their merry sounds were in stark contrast to the silence of the dull and depressed men that those merry chains controlled and held. Finally all the slaves were collected, and the truck headed to the jail. Andrew began feeling a tightness in his stomach. He began adding up his stripes that he knew he would receive. It started with the two that he was sure that he had agreed he would receive with the razor strap for 987. Then he mentally added up at least two for the lunch sack, three for the woman with the diaper, two for failure to repeat an order, and whatever he would receive for the five pieces of trash. He thought of asking a guard what his punishment would be for each item of trash, but then decided he did not want to know. He added up his total several times on the trip. Each time he concluded that twelve was he minimum stripes he would receive from the punishment strap, and two was the minimum he would receive from the razor strap. Andrew could not imagine that he could survive that many assaults on his out-of-shape body. He shivered with terror at the realization that he would survive those stripes, and that he would survive them in extraordinary agony. Andrew remembered a day earlier when he was at the Farm watching slaves receive their stripes. He remembered the calmness that he had felt as the leather slammed into their flesh, and his satisfaction at the groans of pain that the whips forced from those poor slaves. Now he knew that his soft ass and body were going to receive an introductory beating that would make him scream until he could scream no more. His pain would be worse than it would be for the seasoned slaves simply because their slave hides WERE thicker. Whips built up their hides through the many blows that their bodies had received. Well, he smiled to himself sardonically, if he had to do this more than one day, his hide would certainly be hardened quickly by the willing help of the officers who would own him and control his life. The truck turned into the jail compound. The large gates opened slowly, and Andrew along with the other slaves bounced as the truck pulled off the street into the loading area. Other trucks were there unloading their chained slaves into the slave home. The truck pulled around and backed up to the loading dock. Andrew's companions all got ready to be released from their truck chain and enter the huge black box which was their place of punishment and what little rest was allowed them. Andrew thought to himself that the ominous, black, several-story structure for the convicts was an approach-avoidance conflict. The prisoners knew that the only rest they would have was there, but also there was where their punishment and pain also resided. The guards released the prisoners, and the prisoners climbed off the truck and Andrew followed the others into the building. He felt he was being swallowed by a big black void. Inside the prisoners stood at attention in a row. A guard stood in front of them and after looking to see that they were at attention announced in a loud voice with absolutely no emotion the fate of the convicts. "Convicts 987, 375, 886, and 756 report to the red door for punishment prep. Other convicts report to the gray door to observe punishment." Andrew smiled as he noted that even though he saw the guard's mouth moving, the same level of emotion could come from a computer generated voice. For the convicts this list was anything like routine. To be on the punishment list brought fear, anger, and anguish, but to be on the other list brought relief and the small ray of hope and rest that they were allowed to have in their lives as prisoner/slaves. Andrew did not move. He knew that prisoners did not move and do anything without an order. All prisoners remained at something like attention. "PRISONERS 287, 459, 987, 178, 317. and 756 form up in front of the red door, and other prisoners form up in front of the gray door. When the door opened, and still at attention, but now in a line facing the open portal to their preparation for pain, Andrew felt like he might piss himself. He tried everything to keep from embarrassing himself in this manner, and was finally saved when he heard the order "MARCH SHITHEADS! COCK TO CRACK!" He was the last in line and thus only had to move so close behind the prisoner in front of him to get his cock into that prisoner's crack as much as possible through their two sets of pants. He really could not see what was in front of him because he was so close to the convict in front of him that all he saw was the prisoner's neck and head. Andrew's happiness at not having a cock up his crack was suddenly lessened when he found his ass was to one to receive the sharp smack of the slave strap as the inspiration to move this little band into motion. The strap forced him more into the crack and onto the back of the prisoner in front of him, and the motion moved from prisoner to prisoner until the line was in motion. The punishment line was now in a fairly wide hallway, and at its end was another red door. He knew beyond that door had to be the punishment yard. The first red door slammed shut, and again he involuntarily shuddered at the sound of steel door's slamming shut behind him. There was no chance to retreat from his appointment with pain. "HALT" and "ATTENTION" the guard ordered and the line halted immediately. They were ordered to stand and separate themselves from the cock to crack position to one put one foot distance between prisoners. Andrew saw some prisoners in orange jump suits who, on some unheard seen order or some unseen nod of the guard's head, rushed over to remove the chains between their ankles and wrists. Andrew wondered what these prisoners had to do to earn these cushy jobs in the jail and not on the road gangs. He remained at attention and felt his wrists and ankles being yanked as the chains were removed. Andrew concentrated on keeping as motionless as possible. His concern was validated when he heard to sound of leather striking a body and a crisp but also bored "NO MVEMENT" order was said loudly enough to communicate the command to the lineup of punishment bound prisoners. Once Andrew's chains were removed, a prisoner came over and ordered Andrew "Present ass, dumb shit!" Andrew first was irritated that he had been called "dumb shit" by a fellow prisoner, and then realized that his butt plug was about to be removed, and of course officers would not do this job. He also realized that even in the world of prisoners he was now at the bottom of the order, and even other prisoners were above him and could call him any name they wished. He had descended through the bottom of the order of humans and even further down through the order of prisoner slaves to the bottom order of sub slave fecal matter. He followed the prisoner slave's order and dropped his pants, and bent over. The prisoner began to remove the probably shit covered butt plug. Andrew turned around, leaned over and pulled his butt cheeks apart. He felt the plug being pulled somewhat unwillingly out of him. His ass seemed to have claimed the plug as its own, but resistance in this, as in all, was overcome and out the plug came. He could smell it and knew it was indeed shit covered, "UP" was the command and with his pants still gathered around his ankles, he rose, and only momentarily was he surprised to see the plug, liberally covered with his shit, being brought to his face. "OPEN AND CLEAN" was the order, and trying to keep his stomach under control, Andrew accepted the plug into his mouth and ran his tongue around it, and tried to produce as much saliva as he could to wash it clean. The prisoner who brought his plug to him had handled it with apparent disgust, and Andrew did notice that all the other plugs were much less shit covered than his. Then he realized that the shit on his plug was the last residue of his last meals as a free man. Not much shit would be produced from a breakfast bar, a bologna sandwich, and whatever prisoners were given for a dinner. Beside him Andrew heard the other prisoners having their plugs removed, and inspected and the familiar "CLEAN" being noted. Andrew renewed his washing of that metal thing that had controlled and tormented him all day. Now again he lived for the word "CLEAN." His every energy and attention was centered in his mouth and that butt plug. Then suddenly the trusty prisoner again appeared in front of him and, as was the norm of his new life, without asking, yanked the plug out of his mouth. Andrew noted that the trusty looked it over as he walked it to an officer who looked at each one and inspected it. Andrew thought again that guards were not much better off then the prisoners sometimes. Imagine going home and telling your family that you inspected thirty prisoner butt plugs for shit that afternoon. They'd surely be impressed! Again Andrew did an inward smile while being sure his face did not betray his mind. The trusty carefully moved his plug around so that all of it could be inspected. "CLEAN" he heard, and he suddenly realized that he had been holding his breath, and now began breathing again. As in the morning the word "CLEAN" now was one of the most beautiful words in the language. He so concentrated on "CLEAN" that his mind and his stomach accepted that he had just mouth cleaned something covered with his shit and swallowed it back into him. "PRISONERS GET NAKED AND FORM A LINE" was now the order given and so Andrew and the other prisoners unbuttoned their shirts, and took them off. He watched the other prisoners through his peripheral vision and so he folded the shirt and placed it in front of him. He then stepped out of the pants that had been at his ankles, folded them and again stood at attention with his now naked cock and the similarly naked ass crack. "COCK TO CRACK" was the next order, and Andrew moved forward so that his now naked cock was in the similarly naked ass crack in front of him. The skin contact caused his cock to involuntarily get harder as it felt that sensuous skin stimulation. Immediately all the prisoners in front of him started an in-place rhythmic right foot, left foot, and Andrew immediately fell into rhythm, hoping to avoid anther inspirational strapping, but he should have known better. Of course, again the strap fell across his ass, not for any particular offense but that was how a guard got the line moving. IT worked of course. Andrew pushed into the prisoner in front of him and quickly the order traveled by butt communication to the first prisoner. Andrew noted there was a rather interesting sound of the twelve pairs of bare feet thumping together up and down as they marched down a hallway and then through another door and then out into a large open space, which Andrew was more aware of than actually seeing. They marched forward until he and his fellow condemned prisoners heard the order "Line up assholes." In this case asshole was just the friendly way of saying "prisoners" and Andrew noted they were just at a line of footprints and each prisoner immediately moved around to form a straight time with each foot exactly on a footprint. Andrew used his peripheral vision to note that the other prisoners now raised their heads and were looking straight ahead, and he did that also. Even as well conditioned as he already was not to react, the sight ahead of him caused him almost to move, and definitely to shiver. In front of him was a line of three whipping frames. Each frame was constructed of heavy squared wood planks. They were weathered but also substantial. Dangling from the top were some chains and he could see about a foot from the bottom of the two side posts chains also dangled. Now he noted that the chains on the side posts, as well as those at the top post were not attached to the post, but went through the post and were wound around a wench which was itself firmly bolted to the wooden frame. Andrew figured out that the chains could therefore be adjusted to each prisoner, and keep that prisoner spread tightly inside the frame. Andrew again noted that the frame and way that the chains were attached to the posts were much more than would ever be needed to restrain even the most massive prisoner. Clearly the message was that there was absolutely no way once a prisoner was attached to the frame that anything would happen to keep his body from where the guards wanted the prisoner slaves to be. It also occurred to him that the wench arrangement allowed even more torment. A guard could greatly increase the pain for the prisoner by making the chains just a bit more than taught, straining the prisoner's muscles even before the punishment of the straps. In this three ring circus of suffering, he was in the center ring. Again as his mind wondered, he remembered a story that he had been told to be true, that a man about to be lynched in the old West, had said noting the crowd around to watch him hang said as his "...any last words." that "Truly gentlemen, if it weren't for the clear honor of it, I would just as soon pass this appointed honor and show." Andrew agreed. He was going to a star in the center ring, and truly would have much preferred to be in the audience. The prisoners who were witness now came into the punishment yard as a massive thumping beast. Andrew heard and felt the body heat of another line of prisoners behind him, and heard their filling in of the lines on both sides. Their many bare feet all hitting the concrete together and quickly filling their lines of footprints around both sides so that those many feet's owners could watch the miscreants pay in pain for their misdeeds. Just then Andrew saw John walk up to stand beside the center frame, and Andrew now knew that indeed his punishment stripes would each be a broad ribbon on excruciating pain across his body. Andrew was sure that John's appearance was no accident, and that John intended to make a permanent impression on Andrew's body and soul. How much Andrew wished he could have never turned around and opened his mouth that morning, At that point in the morning Andrew was still thinking as his old self. He simply had not adjusted to his new reality. In one day his self concept and his comprehension of his place in this new strange society of guard MASTERS and prisoner slaves was much more advanced. Of course, Andrew did not comprehend that there might be so much more to learn, but that before he left the punishment area, he would have been given an indelible education in how the whip is a great and memorable teacher. The silence was suddenly pierced by John's very deep and menacing voice announce, "PRSIONER 987 -- 3 strokes -- prison strap." All eyes looked at 987, who I recognized as being the front of the line of prisoners of which Andrew was the rear. Then John continued, "PRISONER 987 is excused as per a prisoner to prisoner agreement duly noted by two guards has transferred these strokes to PRISONER 756." Again John paused for all the prisoners in the yard to look at my direction to see what kind of stupid shit-for-brains would take such a severe punishment for another prisoner unless stupid or somehow forced. John noted the subtle questioning of the prisoner mass, and then added for their amazed edification. "Prisoner 756 agreed to take these punishment strokes in return for the one day loan of two worn out gloves." Again a pause as the exact nature the stupidity of prisoner 756 was revealed to everyone. Again you could feel the contempt of the mass for 756 who was such a piece of stupid prisoner shit that it would accept such extreme punishment for something so unimportant and small. I knew that my reputation was now set, and every prisoner would regard me as fair new fish game for the taking. I would have no friends, only users on my ignorance if I had to stay here. I thought of how at the university I was regarded as one of the top professors and egotistically enjoyed the respect and deference of my colleagues. Now in my new world I was labeled as the dumbest of the dumb, a person with a symbolic `KICK ME' sign firmly visible on signboard on my chest and back. John then announced "Prisoner 987 is to be moved to the nearest witness footprints." In my peripheral vision, I saw a guard move over and take 987 back, behind my eyesight. John concluded with a loud "Proceed to the next station punishment." I was somewhat of a daze and only superficially noted that a prisoner on the scaffold to the left of the center one where John stood was called forward, attached and stretched, and received two punishment strokes. He did not yell, but loudly said "THANK YOU BOSS!" after each one. The action then went to the scaffold on the right of the center one, and the scene was repeated. I noted that this prisoner also had a very small number of strokes, was stoic, and properly thanked his punisher for each stroke as each stoked echoed in this enclosed space with that unique sounds of leather applied with force against skin. As the round robin continued, again starting with 375 from my little group, and to the second prisoner in the lineup for each of the three rings of punishment, I noticed that the number of strokes went up for each successive prisoner in each line. After each prisoner received his punishment strokes, each was released from his taught figure "X" and collapsed on the concrete of the punishment arena. Two of the orange clad slaves then came out attached the heavy punishment weight chains to the prisoners wrist and ankle cuffs, and then with a chain leash attached to his collar, pulled him upright, and ducking under his arms pulled and dragged the prisoner out another red door on the opposite side of the arena. It took every inch of will power for me not to quake, to fall, to cry out for mercy, and to piss or even shit myself in the terror that was building up in every fiber of my body. Then there was only one prisoner in each of the three lines. I waited for John to call my number, but instead he glanced to the guard on his left and that guard called out a prisoner who received 18 strokes. This prisoner was unable to say the required "Thank you Boss" after stroke 16, and so the guard announced that prisoner 769 would begin tomorrow's work day with a total for six strokes -- three strokes for every time he failed in his obligation to thank the guard for helping him become a better worker and prisoner. Then the action turned to the last victim on the right side of center stage. I realized for sure now that I was to be the spectacular finale. This prisoner was called out, fastened, and then the guard/punisher moved the wenches one tap more, and the prisoner screamed involuntarily as his limbs were stretched to the maximum. This prisoner was announced to receive 20 strokes, and I was more sure than ever that my last act would be more than 20 and that I too would be super stretched. I saw John looking at me with a look of demonic satisfaction. I knew that I was about to have the most awful few minutes of my life. I was vaguely aware that the prisoner now being tortured had stopped saying his required thanks and that his head, the only part of his body that he could move was slumped down and he had his chin on his chest. Drool was flowing out of his mouth. I mentally thought he looked more dead than alive. "Prisoner 813 has failed to respond properly five times and will begin tomorrow's work with fifteen strokes. The chains were released and 813 crumpled to the concrete. He seemed almost dead. At fifteen strokes tomorrow already, and in his condition I wondered how many strokes he would earn during the day if forced to work. I could see that some prisoners might be on punishment for a long time. It was now my turn in this lowest rung of Hell...