Date: Wed, 16 Apr 2008 13:51:57 -0400 From: d.a. w <daw62@hotmail.com> Subject: The Farm Part 7 THE FARM PART 7 CONFESSION May Not Save One's Soul - But Sometimes One's ASS John knew how to set a scene. The entire punishment area's interest was now focused on Andrew. John said nothing and just glared at Andrew. Every other prisoner slave was awaiting the grand finale, knowing that John would not disappoint them with what he would do with the stupid shit who agreed to take prison strap strokes for worn out gloves. I was visibly shaking in terror. Finally I heard the command "756 report for punishment." From somewhere I managed to walk out in front all the prisoners and all the guards naked and with my out-of-shape flab undulating as I walked. When I arrived at the scaffold, I began to move under the upright as I had seen the other prisoners do. However John had more than the usual in mind. With his whip handle he stopped me, turned me around to face the rest of the prisoners, and said in a loud enough voice so all could hear. "Stand at attention." As I did my best approximation of standing at attention, John stared at me and then said supposedly to me, but actually loud enough for all to hear in that silent place of pain. "Well I suppose with all that flab this pitiful attempt is the best you can do." I reddened at his insult. Amazing isn't it that a naked man can still be insulted more about his body. John then continued, "This pile of blubber shit is here because he violated the law making it illegal to deliberately try to get prisoners who are working on road clean duty into trouble." So much for any sympathy I might get from other prisoners now. I was identified as one who deliberately tried to get prisoners punished. John continued, "Yesterday afternoon, after smiling through punishment of prisoners at work on a farm, this shit for brains deliberately wadded up some paper and threw it out of his car littering the roadside, but doing so deliberately as he had just passed the pick up truck and clearly hoping that the prisoner would be punished for uncollected trash." There was a low rumble of curses from the assembled mass of prisoners directed toward me which were not stopped by the guards. I still tried my best to hold position, but it was difficult to do so. Every instinct of nature told my body that I was surrounded by danger. I knew the excruciating pain that was coming immediately from the whips. I also now realized that every other inmate now saw me as a contemptible piece of shit, and from now on I would always live in fear of some act of aggression or revenge from every other prisoner slave. Nature's strong instincts told me to flee, but what was left of my rational mind made me fight nature's demands because my rational brain knew there was no possibility of flight. John now announced my punishment for one day. "Today this thing earned 17 strokes from the prison strap and in addition 4 strokes from the razor strap from 987 for a total of 21 strokes. Chain this shit up for punishment." The two guards from the other two scaffolds now came over to me and roughly attached my wrists and ankles to the chains on my center stage scaffold. I heard the whirling sounds and felt the chains tightening as I was helplessly stretched into the "X" position. Just as I thought that I was about to be quartered the wenches stopped, and I tried to adjust to the agony of just being stretched apart. John came over to me and ran his hand across my stretched muscles. Then in my ear he whispered in a voice still full of menace and anger, "This is what it feels like to be stretched to the extreme punishment setting for tension on your body, but I can override the automatic stop to one higher level. I am not going to do it now, but when we get to 987's punishments, I will override this stop to the "Danger tension stop and your bones will be pulled almost to the level of being pulled off your body." Then I felt the first stroke of the prison strap. I remembered to say my "Thank you Boss" and await my next stroke. When it came it was just above the first one. John knew how to deliver strokes. The whip landed exactly where he wanted. I will not go over every stroke one-by-one. John kept moving above and below the original stroke covering my ass, and then up my back, and also down across my lower thighs. I discovered that this area actually was more painful than the others but by some miracle I kept repeating my "Thank you Boss" after every stroke of my 17 strokes. However, then I heard the wenches spring to life, and even though it may only have been one or two more chain links more, there are no words in the English or perhaps any language to describe the pain, and terror messages that flooded my brain as the strained muscles and sinews sent warning to the brain that they were about to be stretched to the point of snapping apart. I involuntarily screamed in my suffering, fear, and agony. John paused again, and again rubbed his hands over my stretched body. "Yes slave boi" he whispered into my ear. "One more link of these chains and your pitiful body would be ripped apart. These last four strokes will tell whether the force of the whip is enough to make that happen." I was beyond rational thought at this point. My brain was dominated by the most primitive and instinctual portions of the brain stem. I heard myself say "Thank you Boss." almost like it was being said by someone else. I think even John was amazed I got it out. The next stroke came full across my back, and I remember getting out the "Thank you Boss" and then came darkness. I awoke later to find myself chained face down on a table like structure. John again came into my range of vision. "Well shit head" he said as my eyes moved to try to focus on him. "You did better than I would ever have guessed. You have only four razor strap strokes for tomorrow for failure to respond to a stroke. Pretty amazing boi. Again he ran his hands over my abused flesh, but there was a difference. Now his touch seemed more gentle – almost soothing. "We are even now. You have paid for your stupid move to confront me, and now I am sure you will be an obedient slave boi." I wanted to respond, and tried to get out a "Thank you Boss." but only got out the slurred "thank you" before John gently touched my lips and said to others in the room, "Put the healing cream on 756 and give him recovery procedure one." John disappeared from my limited vision, but two of the orange clad prisoners began to gently put some cream on my wounded backside. I moaned because any touch was painful, but they were gentle. I realized in my still pain clouded brain that somehow other prisoners had seen in my being able to last so far into the punishment a strength they understood and respected. I had earned this gentleness by my ability to go further than expected in a ritual they all knew all too well. Another of the attendants came by and put his finger into a bowl of water, and held the finger next to my lips and very gently rubbed it over my lips. I accepted this water like it was the most expensive wine in the world. It thrilled my senses. Again I realized that through pain I was forgiven my sins in the eyes of the prisoners. I passed out again. I came back into consciousness in my cell. The minute my brain registered that I was "home" in my cell, I also realized that this cell could be any in the jail. All were probably like each other, concrete floor and ceiling, and some sort of block walls that were covered with a clear thick plastic like covering that would prevent any attempt at scraping an opening in it. My bed was as before a shelf bolted to the wall. However, even though this cell was like all others, I knew that this one was mine. I was in my new home, my new place of rest. I groaned. I moved a little and to my absolute amazement whatever had happened to me in "recovery procedure one" was allowing me to move. Each movement was not without pain, but compared with what I had already endured, the pain was within my newly expanded tolerance. I closed my eyes, and went into a deep sleep. KEY RATTLING IN THE DOOR. GET UP! GET UP! GET UP! My training had kicked in, and I remembered my orders, and as fast as I could, I got up and spread eagled myself nose and toes on the back wall. The rattling of the keys continued a couple of more seconds, and I realized that again I was being given some extra sound warning so that I could meet the requirement. The door opened, and I heard John's now very familiar voice. "Good job dog shit." Instead of being insulted, I could sense my pulling myself up a little more in response to the praise. Twenty four hours earlier "Good job dog shit" might have caused a response of anger and demands for an apology. One day of training in the world of prisoner slaves had introduced me to new realities, and I was proud. I also noted almost as an interesting aside that I was totally naked except for my collar, and found this state also one that now was acceptable and natural. I felt John's hands once again lightly examining my back and ass. I held position. "That shit's really good. You will be in considerable pain, today, but you will be able to move. I am going to put you on inside light duty today." I immediately responded with a very sincere "THANK YOU BOSS!" This man had control over me, and could either send me to hell or help me. I very sincerely and deeply appreciated that today I might have the opportunity while still giving the county a day's labor, to do it in a less physically demanding way. Not even once did I dream of saying "I am supposed to be released today." I kept my mouth shut except to give thanks to my owner. I felt a lead being attached to my collar and at the command of "HEEL!" I dropped to all fours and moved as much as fast as possible to follow. John also again showed the other side of his nature, and we moved down the corridors fairly slowly, unlike the mad dash of yesterday. As me moved down the hall John spoke to the air, but I was very interested. "You know, puny dog shit, that we aught to patent that stuff we used on you for the muscle bruises but some civilians might not like some of the ingredients because one of the ingredients is "man-made" and must be added to the mixture fresh from the spigot." I personally would be happy to write a testimonial for the stuff no matter what is was made of. To feel the pain I endured and be able to move at all was nothing short of miraculous in my opinion. We got to a door and passed through it. I was now in a latrine. I knew it was too nice for prisoner slaves and immediately concluded it was for guards. John confirmed my opinion "This is the guard's latrine. You will keep it spotless today, and you will, of course, provide any personal service any guard requires of you." I responded with a snappy "SIR Yes SIR BOSS!" I was led over to the back wall of the latrine and saw a small box with a fairly large number of cloth rags. I glanced for cleaning materials and immediately realized I had in me the cleaning materials my spit and my tongue. John stared at me and looking into the mirror stated slowly so I could absorb every word, "You keep the pissers and the shitters clean, and make sure the sinks shine all day. There were be several unannounced inspections all day, and of course any officer who reports any stain or residue will result in punishments at Punishment Time." My lead was detached, and my collar was then locked to a long but not extremely heavy chain attached very securely to the back wall. "Do a good job and remember your place puny dog shit." Were John's parting words. After John left, I decided I should take a fast tour of the place to make sure nothing was there already for which I might be given punishment marks. I crawled to the first stall, and moved in to inspect the porcelain I found a small yellow stain on the rim of this and even without a moment's hesitation I stuck out my tongue and licked it clean. I crawled back to get a couple of cloths, and went back to the first stall to look further into the toilet. I felt some material on the outside of the bowl, and even though I could not see any material I could feel it, and so my magic tongue was again put into service as a cleaning device, and between tongue and rag, the sides of the toilet now gleamed and I decided that I needed to look inside also. Some guard had already used the toilet that morning as there were brown smudges on the back of the inside of the bowl. I considered using my tongue, but I thought over my orders, and I realized I was not ordered to use my tongue, but only to keep everything spotless. I therefore decided that all I would have to do was to use my hands to clean off the smudges and since they were already underwater, I could keep my hands cleaned off and the inside clean also. Down the row of urinals I tongue cleaned the outside and rubbed the insides clean with the water in the bottom of the urinal. My biggest worry was what to do with two cigarette butts I found soggy in the bottoms of tow of the urinals. My first thought was to consume these offending items. IT is certainly a measure of what one day and one major punishment session will do to one's perspective that eating these disgusting items was my first thought. Then again, I mulled over the lack of specific orders, and so carried them over to one of the toilets and flushed them down. I went back to the box and squatted down on my haunches like a dog and awaited my first customer. I did not have long to wait. Four guards walked in talking together. I was ignored. I suppose that a prisoner slave was here every day, and so I was like the toilets and the sinks – expected and ignored. The fixtures and I would be noted only if absent. Three used the urinals and one used a toilet. All three of the urinal users left their cocks out and looking at me said only "Clean," and I moved across the floor on my hands and knees to take their cocks in my mouth, and lick off any residue of piss, and to be sure that their power tools were clean. I received a pat on my head by one of them which I responded to with a cherry "THANK YOU BOSS!" The last guard looked at my back and said to his colleagues, "Hey guys. This is 756. Look at that back." I kept my head down awaiting instruction. "DISPLAY" was the order and so I rose and stood with my feet shoulder length apart, and my hands clasping the opposite elbow behind my head. My black and blue areas, my welts, and me generally was examined and discussed as if I could not speak not perhaps had enough brains to understand English. "I wonder how much pain that stuff takes away. It does a great job on the swelling." I was not so far gone as to wonder why no one thought to ask me how much pain I was still in when the shitter guard called "CLEAN!" and I dropped and crawled over to the door to the stall. I swung open and I saw a very hairy white guard ass right in front of my nose, and I could indeed see that there was residue of the recent activity. Again, my transformation was so complete that I did not hesitate but crawled over and tongue cleaned that ass. "GET IN THERE SHIT HEAD." brought me out of my smug confidence. I realized I had to clean inside the rosebud as well as around it. When I finished, the guar turned around and as he was buckling up his pants he looked at me and with a slight condescending but angry tone stated to my head. "Next time do not make a freeman have to tell you your duty 756. Consider this you one free pass for taking yesterday's punishment well." The three guards left and again I went in and licked up any piss, rubbed all brown streaks, checked and clean urinals and sinks and scurried back to my box to await more customers. The next dozen or so guards all expected the same services. Some guards wanted me to take their piss as they were shitting. I did not like this especially, but alternatives did not exist, and I remembered to thank each guard for allowing me to serve. Then a man came in and this time I saw suit pants, and shinned black dress shoes rather than the guards' uniform pants, and shiny boots. Then I saw the boots and uniform pants of guards. "Take this to interrogation 2 immediately." said suit and guards grabbed me, unlocked the chain from my collar, and attached a leash and off we went. I was not given John's considerate pace of today. It was much closer to John's furious dashing of yesterday. From looking at the floor, you really do not have any sense of where you might be, but finally we turned off the corridor into a carpeted room. The guards faced me to a wall and order "TOES AND NOSE SHITHEAD!" I rose a assumed the correct position. I waited for further orders. I no longer assumed I had a right to know, but what I did know that any sound or movement would result in pain now and more pain later. I wanted neither and so as motionless as possible I did nose and toes. I heard the guards leave, and softer footsteps coming behind me. "Andrew what have you gotten yourself into?" the voice said. I knew I knew this voice but I could not place it. "Turn around and put this shirt tie and jacket on." I turned around and saw a lawyer I knew... I was not sure of his name but he taught part time at the university. "Richard Carson" he said, and on a chair I saw one of my shirts, my ties and one of my sports jackets. There were no pants however. I started to get down to crawl, and Richard said "I think you may walk over to the clothes as a measure of professional courtesy" I walked over and put the shirt on. Putting it on strained muscles that had not been needed by my previous jobs, and the shirt felt uncomfortable as it rubbed my bruised back. I was not moving quickly but Richard seemed to be in no particular hurry. When I was finished, I looked at him, and he indicated I should go around the high-backed office type chair. As I did I gasped in surprise. This chair was not the ordinary desk chair. The back was leather, but the seat was wood, and sticking up from the wooden seat was a shiny butt plug. "Get the plug up your butt and into that chair NOW." Richard's tone was now cold and commanding. "SIR yes SIR!" I answered almost automatically. I did note that the plug was shiny because it was well lubricated, and my butt hole was anything but super tight at this point, and so fairly quickly I was able to impale myself on the plug, and I felt my abused butt come into contact with the wooden seat. A wide and substantial black belt appeared in Richard's hand and soon I was buckled into the chair with the clasp behind the chair where I could not reach. Soon my ankles were also attached to the chair with leather cuffs. I was not moving off the chair until someone released me. "Andrew in a few minutes I will activate the tape recorders that are both behind and above you and also above and behind my chair. I imagine you can see the one above me." I looked up and indeed I could see the camera. "As you might determine the angles of both cameras allow the video to see you sitting in normal professional clothes – looking as normal as could be. However we know that you are firmly attached. The butt plug not only keeps you nicely in place, but when I flick this switch, (and here he held up a small switch) you will discover that the plug has a nice way of helping you remember to do as told. I saw him press a button the controller and immediately I felt the electricity pulsing through my ass. I yipped involuntarily. "SILENCE" Richard shouted. I tried my best to sit quietly as this plug buzzed my butt. Richard gave me a smile – like the smile of legend when a cat sees a mouse caught in a trap. "Andrew since you admitted to breaking the law, and indeed have served one day of your sentence, according to the law that admission of breaking the law is considered probable cause and allowed us to obtain a search warrant for your home and office. The assumption is that criminal probably is doing even more illegal activities than the one he got caught for." Again, "THE" smile flashed at me. "Andrew we did not go through your office, but your home was a real surprise for the officers." At this point Richard reached down and put in the desk my box of bondage equipment. I blushed, and moved my head down as he brought out item and item and put each on the desk. Soon the whole top of the desk was covered. When he was done stuffing the last four items – a set of leg shackles, a cock and balls harness, a leather wrist cuff and my CB6000 – on the top of the desk, he looked at me and sneered, "I see that you are properly ashamed at this collection of decadence and depravity." But Ricchard was not done. Again he reached down and the other box of my hidden interests was strewn over the contents of the first box already on the top of the desk. These were my collection of S&M magazines such as Drummer, Manifest Reader, and International Leatherman. I looked down on these magazines I had drooled over, and jacked off over. Now my private pleasure was dumped in front of me and Richard. Richard said nothing to me. He just stared. Finally he said. "Do you want all this evidence brought into court? Do you want three former students come into court to testify that when they asked you for help passing your class, you asked them to come over, and you forced them into S&M and B&D scenes." My mouth dropped open. I opened it again to protest that the one thing I never would have done was expose myself to possible blackmail by playing with a student. Richard saw my beginnings of a protest and snarled "SILENCE CONVICT!" I was silenced by the vehemence of his remark, and by my classification as a convict. Then even more disconcerting was Richard's smile. Again it was the smile of a bully about to denigrate some victim. "I do NOT want to hear protestations of innocence. Listen carefully to me. I said I have three former students who would be willing to testify you did this. However to save the university and these fine young men embarrassment, I am willing to make a deal with you." As much as I could squirm, I did. I knew no deal he would offer would really be to my advantage. However, I knew I had to listen. I nodded my head in acquiesence. Richard continued, "We will charge you with possessing illegal drugs. Drug charges will not cause you difficulty in prison as most of the convicts there are also there on drug or drug related charges. Also you will not be humiliated in court. If truth be known a significant proportion of `polite' society could be brought up on charges such as we will press against you." Again I nodded. "I have a confession here for you to sign admitting that you have a cocaine addition, and that you had in your possession several grams of the drug, and that you refuse to reveal your sources. I will expect you to read over the confession and then to sign it on camera. DO YOU AGREE?" Again I nodded. Richard got up, and said "When you see the light come on the camera sit up straight, and move your hands and body to show that you are not under any duress." Even Richard smiled at this lie. HE left, and I sat there and realized that one crumpled paper had changed the entire direction of my life. How could something so mundane be so critically important? I sat there wondering what my sentence would be, and how I would adjust to prison. I smiled in thinking that I was hardly the young white male that would likely be pressed into the bitch role in the prison. The door opened, and I was immediately sat up straight but a glance at the red light under the camera revealed that it was not on. A guard came in and swept the magazines back into one box, and the chains and other bondage items into the other. He glanced at me and smirked and knowing smile. I wondered how knowledge that these items were associated with me would effect how the guards would treat me. HE left with one box and returned for the second box of bondage items. As he lifted the heavy box was he glared at me and said, "We'll save some of this shit to use on you. You should be a real hit with the other cons." I knew my status of respect with my fellow convict slaves would soon be lost to guard supplied information about my fetish for kinky gay sex. Soon I saw the red light under the camera come on, and I sat up straight and leaned over and fidgeted with some items on the desk. Richard came in and informed me about the warrant, and the search, and then asked me about the drugs. I dutifully admitted to my cocaine addiction, and also refused to name my suppliers. We played out our little farce, and Richard again got up, and for benefit of the cameras and microphones stated that my confession would be typed up and he would return. And then in a nice touch he turned to me and intoned "Andrew you are now under arrest for this new crime. Do not try to leave this room, and probably it would be best if you just stayed in your chair and await my return. I nodded again. My mind wondered again, and I thought that anyone watching the tape would soon equate my ability to communicate with a bobble head. After a fairly long period of time Richard returned and handed me several sheets of paper, and insisted I read and initial each page. Again I did as ordered, and read of where I had hidden the drugs, the drug paraphernalia that was found. I read about how my refusal to name my sources would be considered an intensifier in my sentence. I read and initialed each page, and then signed the whole document. Richard rose and played his part perfectly. He came around the desk, put his hand on my shoulder in what I was sure would look like a truly compassionate gesture as said "Andrew we have known each other for years and you have been a luminary of the faculty at the university. It is tragic for me as a prosecutor to see how this addition has caused the destruction of such a distinguished career. I muttered something to the effect that it was good to finally not have to keep my secret. I knew and Richard knew the secret was NOT about drug use. Richard squeezed my shoulder, and again said "Andrew you must remain here in this chair until you are taken to a cell to await trial. There is no escape and the door to the hall will be locked, so just be good and stay here." As he left he reached down to the controller for my butt plug and in an unexpected kindness turned if off. I smiled at him in appreciation, but it was to his back as he walked out the door. He left, and I awaited my return to my life as a prisoner slave, now not just for a day or two, but for a much longer time. I mused that my confession might have saved me public humiliation as a pervert, but it labeled me a felon and convict for the rest of my life. THE FARM PART 7 CONFESSION May Not Save One's Soul - But Sometimes One's ASS John knew how to set a scene. The entire punishment area's interest was now focused on Andrew. John said nothing and just glared at Andrew. Every other prisoner slave was awaiting the grand finale, knowing that John would not disappoint them with what he would do with the stupid shit who agreed to take prison strap strokes for worn out gloves. I was visibly shaking in terror. Finally I heard the command "756 report for punishment." >From somewhere I managed to walk out in front all the prisoners and all the guards naked and with my out-of-shape flab undulating as I walked. When I arrived at the scaffold, I began to move under the upright as I had seen the other prisoners do. However John had more than the usual in mind. With his whip handle he stopped me, turned me around to face the rest of the prisoners, and said in a loud enough voice so all could hear. "Stand at attention." As I did my best approximation of standing at attention, John stared at me and then said supposedly to me, but actually loud enough for all to hear in that silent place of pain. "Well I suppose with all that flab this pitiful attempt is the best you can do." I reddened at his insult. Amazing isn't it that a naked man can still be insulted more about his body. John then continued, "This pile of blubber shit is here because he violated the law making it illegal to deliberately try to get prisoners who are working on road clean duty into trouble." So much for any sympathy I might get from other prisoners now. I was identified as one who deliberately tried to get prisoners punished. John continued, "Yesterday afternoon, after smiling through punishment of prisoners at work on a farm, this shit for brains deliberately wadded up some paper and threw it out of his car littering the roadside, but doing so deliberately as he had just passed the pick up truck and clearly hoping that the prisoner would be punished for uncollected trash." There was a low rumble of curses from the assembled mass of prisoners directed toward me which were not stopped by the guards. I still tried my best to hold position, but it was difficult to do so. Every instinct of nature told my body that I was surrounded by danger. I knew the excruciating pain that was coming immediately from the whips. I also now realized that every other inmate now saw me as a contemptible piece of shit, and from now on I would always live in fear of some act of aggression or revenge from every other prisoner slave. Nature's strong instincts told me to flee, but what was left of my rational mind made me fight nature's demands because my rational brain knew there was no possibility of flight. John now announced my punishment for one day. "Today this thing earned 17 strokes from the prison strap and in addition 4 strokes from the razor strap from 987 for a total of 21 strokes. Chain this shit up for punishment." The two guards from the other two scaffolds now came over to me and roughly attached my wrists and ankles to the chains on my center stage scaffold. I heard the whirling sounds and felt the chains tightening as I was helplessly stretched into the "X" position. Just as I thought that I was about to be quartered the wenches stopped, and I tried to adjust to the agony of just being stretched apart. John came over to me and ran his hand across my stretched muscles. Then in my ear he whispered in a voice still full of menace and anger, "This is what it feels like to be stretched to the extreme punishment setting for tension on your body, but I can override the automatic stop to one higher level. I am not going to do it now, but when we get to 987's punishments, I will override this stop to the "Danger tension stop and your bones will be pulled almost to the level of being pulled off your body." Then I felt the first stroke of the prison strap. I remembered to say my "Thank you Boss" and await my next stroke. When it came it was just above the first one. John knew how to deliver strokes. The whip landed exactly where he wanted. I will not go over every stroke one-by-one. John kept moving above and below the original stroke covering my ass, and then up my back, and also down across my lower thighs. I discovered that this area actually was more painful than the others but by some miracle I kept repeating my "Thank you Boss" after every stroke of my 17 strokes. However, then I heard the wenches spring to life, and even though it may only have been one or two more chain links more, there are no words in the English or perhaps any language to describe the pain, and terror messages that flooded my brain as the strained muscles and sinews sent warning to the brain that they were about to be stretched to the point of snapping apart. I involuntarily screamed in my suffering, fear, and agony. John paused again, and again rubbed his hands over my stretched body. "Yes slave boi" he whispered into my ear. "One more link of these chains and your pitiful body would be ripped apart. These last four strokes will tell whether the force of the whip is enough to make that happen." I was beyond rational thought at this point. My brain was dominated by the most primitive and instinctual portions of the brain stem. I heard myself say "Thank you Boss." almost like it was being said by someone else. I think even John was amazed I got it out. The next stroke came full across my back, and I remember getting out the "Thank you Boss" and then came darkness. I awoke later to find myself chained face down on a table like structure. John again came into my range of vision. "Well shit head" he said as my eyes moved to try to focus on him. "You did better than I would ever have guessed. You have only four razor strap strokes for tomorrow for failure to respond to a stroke. Pretty amazing boi. Again he ran his hands over my abused flesh, but there was a difference. Now his touch seemed more gentle – almost soothing. "We are even now. You have paid for your stupid move to confront me, and now I am sure you will be an obedient slave boi." I wanted to respond, and tried to get out a "Thank you Boss." but only got out the slurred "thank you" before John gently touched my lips and said to others in the room, "Put the healing cream on 756 and give him recovery procedure one." John disappeared from my limited vision, but two of the orange clad prisoners began to gently put some cream on my wounded backside. I moaned because any touch was painful, but they were gentle. I realized in my still pain clouded brain that somehow other prisoners had seen in my being able to last so far into the punishment a strength they understood and respected. I had earned this gentleness by my ability to go further than expected in a ritual they all knew all too well. Another of the attendants came by and put his finger into a bowl of water, and held the finger next to my lips and very gently rubbed it over my lips. I accepted this water like it was the most expensive wine in the world. It thrilled my senses. Again I realized that through pain I was forgiven my sins in the eyes of the prisoners. I passed out again. I came back into consciousness in my cell. The minute my brain registered that I was "home" in my cell, I also realized that this cell could be any in the jail. All were probably like each other, concrete floor and ceiling, and some sort of block walls that were covered with a clear thick plastic like covering that would prevent any attempt at scraping an opening in it. My bed was as before a shelf bolted to the wall. However, even though this cell was like all others, I knew that this one was mine. I was in my new home, my new place of rest. I groaned. I moved a little and to my absolute amazement whatever had happened to me in "recovery procedure one" was allowing me to move. Each movement was not without pain, but compared with what I had already endured, the pain was within my newly expanded tolerance. I closed my eyes, and went into a deep sleep. KEY RATTLING IN THE DOOR. GET UP! GET UP! GET UP! My training had kicked in, and I remembered my orders, and as fast as I could, I got up and spread eagled myself nose and toes on the back wall. The rattling of the keys continued a couple of more seconds, and I realized that again I was being given some extra sound warning so that I could meet the requirement. The door opened, and I heard John's now very familiar voice. "Good job dog shit." Instead of being insulted, I could sense my pulling myself up a little more in response to the praise. Twenty four hours earlier "Good job dog shit" might have caused a response of anger and demands for an apology. One day of training in the world of prisoner slaves had introduced me to new realities, and I was proud. I also noted almost as an interesting aside that I was totally naked except for my collar, and found this state also one that now was acceptable and natural. I felt John's hands once again lightly examining my back and ass. I held position. "That shit's really good. You will be in considerable pain, today, but you will be able to move. I am going to put you on inside light duty today." I immediately responded with a very sincere "THANK YOU BOSS!" This man had control over me, and could either send me to hell or help me. I very sincerely and deeply appreciated that today I might have the opportunity while still giving the county a day's labor, to do it in a less physically demanding way. Not even once did I dream of saying "I am supposed to be released today." I kept my mouth shut except to give thanks to my owner. I felt a lead being attached to my collar and at the command of "HEEL!" I dropped to all fours and moved as much as fast as possible to follow. John also again showed the other side of his nature, and we moved down the corridors fairly slowly, unlike the mad dash of yesterday. As me moved down the hall John spoke to the air, but I was very interested. "You know, puny dog shit, that we aught to patent that stuff we used on you for the muscle bruises but some civilians might not like some of the ingredients because one of the ingredients is "man-made" and must be added to the mixture fresh from the spigot." I personally would be happy to write a testimonial for the stuff no matter what is was made of. To feel the pain I endured and be able to move at all was nothing short of miraculous in my opinion. We got to a door and passed through it. I was now in a latrine. I knew it was too nice for prisoner slaves and immediately concluded it was for guards. John confirmed my opinion "This is the guard's latrine. You will keep it spotless today, and you will, of course, provide any personal service any guard requires of you." I responded with a snappy "SIR Yes SIR BOSS!" I was led over to the back wall of the latrine and saw a small box with a fairly large number of cloth rags. I glanced for cleaning materials and immediately realized I had in me the cleaning materials my spit and my tongue. John stared at me and looking into the mirror stated slowly so I could absorb every word, "You keep the pissers and the shitters clean, and make sure the sinks shine all day. There were be several unannounced inspections all day, and of course any officer who reports any stain or residue will result in punishments at Punishment Time." My lead was detached, and my collar was then locked to a long but not extremely heavy chain attached very securely to the back wall. "Do a good job and remember your place puny dog shit." Were John's parting words. After John left, I decided I should take a fast tour of the place to make sure nothing was there already for which I might be given punishment marks. I crawled to the first stall, and moved in to inspect the porcelain I found a small yellow stain on the rim of this and even without a moment's hesitation I stuck out my tongue and licked it clean. I crawled back to get a couple of cloths, and went back to the first stall to look further into the toilet. I felt some material on the outside of the bowl, and even though I could not see any material I could feel it, and so my magic tongue was again put into service as a cleaning device, and between tongue and rag, the sides of the toilet now gleamed and I decided that I needed to look inside also. Some guard had already used the toilet that morning as there were brown smudges on the back of the inside of the bowl. I considered using my tongue, but I thought over my orders, and I realized I was not ordered to use my tongue, but only to keep everything spotless. I therefore decided that all I would have to do was to use my hands to clean off the smudges and since they were already underwater, I could keep my hands cleaned off and the inside clean also. Down the row of urinals I tongue cleaned the outside and rubbed the insides clean with the water in the bottom of the urinal. My biggest worry was what to do with two cigarette butts I found soggy in the bottoms of tow of the urinals. My first thought was to consume these offending items. IT is certainly a measure of what one day and one major punishment session will do to one's perspective that eating these disgusting items was my first thought. Then again, I mulled over the lack of specific orders, and so carried them over to one of the toilets and flushed them down. I went back to the box and squatted down on my haunches like a dog and awaited my first customer. I did not have long to wait. Four guards walked in talking together. I was ignored. I suppose that a prisoner slave was here every day, and so I was like the toilets and the sinks – expected and ignored. The fixtures and I would be noted only if absent. Three used the urinals and one used a toilet. All three of the urinal users left their cocks out and looking at me said only "Clean," and I moved across the floor on my hands and knees to take their cocks in my mouth, and lick off any residue of piss, and to be sure that their power tools were clean. I received a pat on my head by one of them which I responded to with a cherry "THANK YOU BOSS!" The last guard looked at my back and said to his colleagues, "Hey guys. This is 756. Look at that back." I kept my head down awaiting instruction. "DISPLAY" was the order and so I rose and stood with my feet shoulder length apart, and my hands clasping the opposite elbow behind my head. My black and blue areas, my welts, and me generally was examined and discussed as if I could not speak not perhaps had enough brains to understand English. "I wonder how much pain that stuff takes away. It does a great job on the swelling." I was not so far gone as to wonder why no one thought to ask me how much pain I was still in when the shitter guard called "CLEAN!" and I dropped and crawled over to the door to the stall. I swung open and I saw a very hairy white guard ass right in front of my nose, and I could indeed see that there was residue of the recent activity. Again, my transformation was so complete that I did not hesitate but crawled over and tongue cleaned that ass. "GET IN THERE SHIT HEAD." brought me out of my smug confidence. I realized I had to clean inside the rosebud as well as around it. When I finished, the guar turned around and as he was buckling up his pants he looked at me and with a slight condescending but angry tone stated to my head. "Next time do not make a freeman have to tell you your duty 756. Consider this you one free pass for taking yesterday's punishment well." The three guards left and again I went in and licked up any piss, rubbed all brown streaks, checked and clean urinals and sinks and scurried back to my box to await more customers. The next dozen or so guards all expected the same services. Some guards wanted me to take their piss as they were shitting. I did not like this especially, but alternatives did not exist, and I remembered to thank each guard for allowing me to serve. Then a man came in and this time I saw suit pants, and shinned black dress shoes rather than the guards' uniform pants, and shiny boots. Then I saw the boots and uniform pants of guards. "Take this to interrogation 2 immediately." said suit and guards grabbed me, unlocked the chain from my collar, and attached a leash and off we went. I was not given John's considerate pace of today. It was much closer to John's furious dashing of yesterday. From looking at the floor, you really do not have any sense of where you might be, but finally we turned off the corridor into a carpeted room. The guards faced me to a wall and order "TOES AND NOSE SHITHEAD!" I rose a assumed the correct position. I waited for further orders. I no longer assumed I had a right to know, but what I did know that any sound or movement would result in pain now and more pain later. I wanted neither and so as motionless as possible I did nose and toes. I heard the guards leave, and softer footsteps coming behind me. "Andrew what have you gotten yourself into?" the voice said. I knew I knew this voice but I could not place it. "Turn around and put this shirt tie and jacket on." I turned around and saw a lawyer I knew... I was not sure of his name but he taught part time at the university. "Richard Carson" he said, and on a chair I saw one of my shirts, my ties and one of my sports jackets. There were no pants however. I started to get down to crawl, and Richard said "I think you may walk over to the clothes as a measure of professional courtesy" I walked over and put the shirt on. Putting it on strained muscles that had not been needed by my previous jobs, and the shirt felt uncomfortable as it rubbed my bruised back. I was not moving quickly but Richard seemed to be in no particular hurry. When I was finished, I looked at him, and he indicated I should go around the high-backed office type chair. As I did I gasped in surprise. This chair was not the ordinary desk chair. The back was leather, but the seat was wood, and sticking up from the wooden seat was a shiny butt plug. "Get the plug up your butt and into that chair NOW." Richard's tone was now cold and commanding. "SIR yes SIR!" I answered almost automatically. I did note that the plug was shiny because it was well lubricated, and my butt hole was anything but super tight at this point, and so fairly quickly I was able to impale myself on the plug, and I felt my abused butt come into contact with the wooden seat. A wide and substantial black belt appeared in Richard's hand and soon I was buckled into the chair with the clasp behind the chair where I could not reach. Soon my ankles were also attached to the chair with leather cuffs. I was not moving off the chair until someone released me. "Andrew in a few minutes I will activate the tape recorders that are both behind and above you and also above and behind my chair. I imagine you can see the one above me." I looked up and indeed I could see the camera. "As you might determine the angles of both cameras allow the video to see you sitting in normal professional clothes – looking as normal as could be. However we know that you are firmly attached. The butt plug not only keeps you nicely in place, but when I flick this switch, (and here he held up a small switch) you will discover that the plug has a nice way of helping you remember to do as told. I saw him press a button the controller and immediately I felt the electricity pulsing through my ass. I yipped involuntarily. "SILENCE" Richard shouted. I tried my best to sit quietly as this plug buzzed my butt. Richard gave me a smile – like the smile of legend when a cat sees a mouse caught in a trap. "Andrew since you admitted to breaking the law, and indeed have served one day of your sentence, according to the law that admission of breaking the law is considered probable cause and allowed us to obtain a search warrant for your home and office. The assumption is that criminal probably is doing even more illegal activities than the one he got caught for." Again, "THE" smile flashed at me. "Andrew we did not go through your office, but your home was a real surprise for the officers." At this point Richard reached down and put in the desk my box of bondage equipment. I blushed, and moved my head down as he brought out item and item and put each on the desk. Soon the whole top of the desk was covered. When he was done stuffing the last four items – a set of leg shackles, a cock and balls harness, a leather wrist cuff and my CB6000 – on the top of the desk, he looked at me and sneered, "I see that you are properly ashamed at this collection of decadence and depravity." But Ricchard was not done. Again he reached down and the other box of my hidden interests was strewn over the contents of the first box already on the top of the desk. These were my collection of S&M magazines such as Drummer, Manifest Reader, and International Leatherman. I looked down on these magazines I had drooled over, and jacked off over. Now my private pleasure was dumped in front of me and Richard. Richard said nothing to me. He just stared. Finally he said. "Do you want all this evidence brought into court? Do you want three former students come into court to testify that when they asked you for help passing your class, you asked them to come over, and you forced them into S&M and B&D scenes." My mouth dropped open. I opened it again to protest that the one thing I never would have done was expose myself to possible blackmail by playing with a student. Richard saw my beginnings of a protest and snarled "SILENCE CONVICT!" I was silenced by the vehemence of his remark, and by my classification as a convict. Then even more disconcerting was Richard's smile. Again it was the smile of a bully about to denigrate some victim. "I do NOT want to hear protestations of innocence. Listen carefully to me. I said I have three former students who would be willing to testify you did this. However to save the university and these fine young men embarrassment, I am willing to make a deal with you." As much as I could squirm, I did. I knew no deal he would offer would really be to my advantage. However, I knew I had to listen. I nodded my head in acquiesence. Richard continued, "We will charge you with possessing illegal drugs. Drug charges will not cause you difficulty in prison as most of the convicts there are also there on drug or drug related charges. Also you will not be humiliated in court. If truth be known a significant proportion of `polite' society could be brought up on charges such as we will press against you." Again I nodded. "I have a confession here for you to sign admitting that you have a cocaine addition, and that you had in your possession several grams of the drug, and that you refuse to reveal your sources. I will expect you to read over the confession and then to sign it on camera. DO YOU AGREE?" Again I nodded. Richard got up, and said "When you see the light come on the camera sit up straight, and move your hands and body to show that you are not under any duress." Even Richard smiled at this lie. HE left, and I sat there and realized that one crumpled paper had changed the entire direction of my life. How could something so mundane be so critically important? I sat there wondering what my sentence would be, and how I would adjust to prison. I smiled in thinking that I was hardly the young white male that would likely be pressed into the bitch role in the prison. The door opened, and I was immediately sat up straight but a glance at the red light under the camera revealed that it was not on. A guard came in and swept the magazines back into one box, and the chains and other bondage items into the other. He glanced at me and smirked and knowing smile. I wondered how knowledge that these items were associated with me would effect how the guards would treat me. HE left with one box and returned for the second box of bondage items. As he lifted the heavy box was he glared at me and said, "We'll save some of this shit to use on you. You should be a real hit with the other cons." I knew my status of respect with my fellow convict slaves would soon be lost to guard supplied information about my fetish for kinky gay sex. Soon I saw the red light under the camera come on, and I sat up straight and leaned over and fidgeted with some items on the desk. Richard came in and informed me about the warrant, and the search, and then asked me about the drugs. I dutifully admitted to my cocaine addiction, and also refused to name my suppliers. We played out our little farce, and Richard again got up, and for benefit of the cameras and microphones stated that my confession would be typed up and he would return. And then in a nice touch he turned to me and intoned "Andrew you are now under arrest for this new crime. Do not try to leave this room, and probably it would be best if you just stayed in your chair and await my return. I nodded again. My mind wondered again, and I thought that anyone watching the tape would soon equate my ability to communicate with a bobble head. After a fairly long period of time Richard returned and handed me several sheets of paper, and insisted I read and initial each page. Again I did as ordered, and read of where I had hidden the drugs, the drug paraphernalia that was found. I read about how my refusal to name my sources would be considered an intensifier in my sentence. I read and initialed each page, and then signed the whole document. Richard rose and played his part perfectly. He came around the desk, put his hand on my shoulder in what I was sure would look like a truly compassionate gesture as said "Andrew we have known each other for years and you have been a luminary of the faculty at the university. It is tragic for me as a prosecutor to see how this addition has caused the destruction of such a distinguished career. I muttered something to the effect that it was good to finally not have to keep my secret. I knew and Richard knew the secret was NOT about drug use. Richard squeezed my shoulder, and again said "Andrew you must remain here in this chair until you are taken to a cell to await trial. There is no escape and the door to the hall will be locked, so just be good and stay here." As he left he reached down to the controller for my butt plug and in an unexpected kindness turned if off. I smiled at him in appreciation, but it was to his back as he walked out the door. He left, and I awaited my return to my life as a prisoner slave, now not just for a day or two, but for a much longer time. I mused that my confession might have saved me public humiliation as a pervert, but it labeled me a felon and convict for the rest of my life.