Date: Wed, 25 May 2005 14:45:34 +0000
From: Mark Bronson <beastmaster42@hotmail.com>
Subject: JOURNEY INTO NIGHT - 15 Gay/Urination

JOURNEY INTO NIGHT - CHAPTER FIFTEEN

By beastmaster42@hotmail.com

Previously...

The prisoner grunted in satisfaction as my tongue probed his stinking, 
fucked hole. I was glad to obey my inspector's commands........
When I had finished to his satisfaction, he pulled my shaved head out of the 
prisoner's crack and signaled me to stand up. I did so and stood before him, 
my hands still cuffed, looking humbly down at his boots. He came towards me, 
put a hand under my chin and raised my face. I was still tearful from the 
pain of the caning he had given me, as he pulled down my jaw and spat in my 
mouth as a sign that he was pleased with me...


The Inspector snapped his fingers at one of the guards, mumbling something 
and nodding towards the other room, where I had been 'tried' by the 
Magistrate. A minute passed, and the guard emerged from the room carrying 
two semicircular halves of what was obviously a steel collar. He was also 
carrying the unjoined halves of what I found out later were wrist and leg 
irons...

More muffled conversation between the Inspector and the guards, one of whom 
went out into the yard while I was thrown back in the cell together with the 
prisoner whose ass I had just cleaned, still handcuffed and with my ass 
throbbing from the caning. My mouth was still permeated with the taste of 
his ass and the Inspector's spunk; I felt exhausted and sank down on my 
haunches in a corner of the cell, eyed all the while by the 
recently-thrashed and fucked prisoner. I did not want to meet his gaze, so I 
looked down between my legs at my shaved cock and balls, at the heavy ring 
with which it had been pierced, which was permanently attached to the ring 
in my navel...

As I looked down, I heard the sounds of the other prisoners getting their 
daily thrashing - the statutory twenty strokes, delivered with unremitting 
severity by the Inspector. The other prisoner, whose ass I had just cleaned 
out, then did something that surprised me: he came over towards me and sat 
down on his haunches next to me. He was not handcuffed as I was, and put his 
arm around my shoulder. I felt embarrassed, still tasting his shitty asshole 
in my mouth. I did not dare to look at him, but looking down at his big feet 
and thick calf muscles I could see that he was of peasant stock, used to 
heavy labour from an early age. I guessed he was aged about 40 or so, but 
being completely shaved like me it was hard to tell. We listened together in 
silence as the other prisoners were given their daily caning. With his free 
hand, he cupped my chin and raised my face towards his. The hand that had 
been on my shoulder then held my head firmly as he brought his to mine and 
kissed me - hard and rough, his thick tongue probing my mouth and filling 
it, tasting his own asshole as he did so. The sounds of prisoners' asses 
being caned one after the other continued as he continued to kiss me, giving 
me no chance to withdraw as his left arm held my head in a vice-like grip. I 
could see his stinking cock out of the corner of my eye beginning to throb 
and grow - indeed as the cheesy head began to push its way out of his thick 
foreskin I could smell it - days of piss and spunk and sweat. Even as I 
breathed his stink, including the sweat from his now dripping armpits, my 
mouth was filled with his tongue and spit as the other prisoners groaned 
under the heavy cane thrashing their buttocks. It was a strange act of 
affection by this big rough man whose filthy ass had so recently been caned 
in front of my very nose and whose hole I had been forced to clean out with 
my tongue. As usual, I was defenceless with my hands cuffed behind me, but I 
had grown used to my helplessness and no longer resisted the onslaughts of 
these men, both guards and prisoners for whom I was just an object to be 
used...

My own cock betrayed me, growing stiff, although restrained by the ring in 
my navel to which it was locked. My new-found 'lover' saw it of course, as 
no part of my body could be hidden any longer from the eyes of others (I had 
long forgotten what it felt like to wear clothes), and he gently toyed with 
my ringed nipples, rendering me even more helpless as the dark, depraved 
emotions that subdued my entire being took over, sending my blood pounding 
through my veins, my poor cock straining to escape its imprisonment... He 
grabbed my balls and tightened his huge fist around them, squeezing till I 
screamed into his mouth and tears began to course down my face. My screams 
were clearly music to his ears, and only served to excite him further. I 
tried to pull away, but with his left arm gripping my neck so hard, his 
right hand practically flattening my balls between my open haunches, I had 
no choice but to suffer as the smell of his sweat, cheese and stinking ass 
engulfed me, drowning me in pain and filth....

Suddenly, he released his grip on my balls and pushed me away from him, so 
that I fell on my side, doubling up in foetal position in a vain attempt to 
protect my defenceless balls. My sobbing gradually stopped as the pain 
subsided, and I permitted myself to look up at him as he stood over me, 
smiling down at me... Then he planted one of his big, dirty, sweaty feet on 
my face and ordered me to lick, as the other prisoners watched. I noticed 
that the beatings had stopped, and the prisoners in my cell were rubbing 
their asses to relieve the pain... their buttocks were all well striped with 
big red welts... The smell of my 'lover's' stinking foot brought me back to 
reality as my tongue found its way between his filthy toes, sucking out days 
(maybe weeks) of sweat.... Then he changed position, and his other huge, 
stinking foot was planted firmly on my face so that my tongue could do its 
duty.... A few of the beaten prisoners were now standing around me, 
sniggering as they rubbed their asses, still trying to relieve the throbbing 
they must have been feeling.

When my 'friend' had decided that his foot was sufficiently cleaned, he 
removed it, sniggering with a couple of his mates and walked away without 
looking back at me. My balls were still throbbing, so I curled up in foetal 
position once more to protect them. It was not long before I heard the 
inspector's voice once more, followed by the sound of the key in the lock as 
a couple of guards entered the cell and hauled me to my feet. They dragged 
me out into the yard, where I saw an anvil next to a brazier of glowing 
coals. I began to sweat with fear, half knowing what was coming - and I was 
not wrong. The collar, wrist and leg irons I had seen earlier were lying on 
a table next to the anvil...

The inspector snapped his fingers and I was pushed to the dusty ground and 
one of my ankles was held firmly up over the anvil. One of the half-rings 
was placed underneath it and the other half on top of it, bringing both the 
flattened ends together. A red-hot rivet was pulled out of the fire with 
tongs and dropped through the hole and quickly hammered, flattening both 
ends of the rivet so that it could not be removed from the ring halves. Then 
another rivet was taken out of the brazier and similarly banged through the 
holes other side of the ring halves, so that the ring was now impossible to 
remove... ever. The heat from the rivets travelled through the ring round my 
ankle and began to burn, reminding me of the brands the inspector had 
planted on my buttocks. Though the pain made me groan, it was not as great 
as the branding...

The same procedure followed for my other leg, then my wrists. Then came the 
collar - I had to sit on my haunches, sideways on to the anvil for this, as 
first one side of the collar was riveted, then I was turned to face the 
opposite direction as the other side was riveted. The heat, as with the 
other irons, travelled through the collar, getting uncomfortably hot... I 
was now in irons that could never be removed. It would not matter now if I 
escaped or was released, these heavy iron rings would now mark me out as a 
prisoner, a slave, for the rest of my life. Tears of pity and shame welled 
up in my eyes as I realized how low I had sunk... Death would be my only 
release from this degradation...

As I looked down at my shaven, ringed branded and beaten body I knew that 
somehow this was my destiny, my place in the natural order of things. I also 
noticed that there were rings set into my leg and wrist irons, and the front 
and back of my collar - clearly this was so that I could be secured in 
various ways, depending on what pleased my inspector or the men who would 
have charge of me.....