Date: Sat, 12 Mar 2005 16:19:46 +0000
From: Mark Bronson <beastmaster42@hotmail.com>
Subject: JOURNEY INTO NIGHT - Part 8

Copyright: Beastmaster42.

This story is fiction. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is
purely coincidental.

Comments to beasmaster42@hotmail.com


JOURNEY INTO NIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHT


The paper was brought to me, and I signed. He put his signature there too,
as a witness. My fate was now sealed.

He spoke to the guards: "I want a few minutes with him alone... put the
handcuffs on him, I don't want him trying to escape..."

Cuffed once more, they dragged me into the courtroom, followed by the young
Englishman and closed the door behind them, leaving us alone.
He studied me intently for a few moments, examining my caned buttocks,
feeling them with his hand...

"Hmmm..., a bit of blood here - they certainly know how to thrash arse! So
now, you do exactly what you're told by anyone, at all times, and without
complaint! This is what you have signed yourself over to - do you realise
this?"

I nodded, half knowing what was coming...

My buttocks throbbed from the caning as he pushed me to my knees. He slowly
took down his trousers and underpants and pulled up his shirt. His body was
almost completely hairless...

"Open your mouth, stick out your tongue!" he said coldly.

He placed his half-stiff cock on my tongue and looked down at me: "You're a
dirty fucking pervert, and I think we are well rid of you. Now I'm going to
use you the way you say you deserve, and you will thank me for it -
understood?" I nodded, with his cock resting on my tongue. It smelled of
piss and old spunk...

"I will visit you from time to time, to have you caned..."

I again nodded, with his cock resting on my tongue. Then he jerked his cock
off into my open mouth, spewing his spunk into it, till it trickled down the
back of my throat and I had to swallow it: this meant I had to close my
mouth round his knob, sucking out the remaining spunk. This seemed to annoy
him, and he pulled it out and slapped my face hard...

"I didn't tell you to suck it! How dare you!" (another hard slap).

"I - I'm sorry Sir, I couldn't help it..."

He went to the door and called the guard again, after putting his cock back
in his trousers. The guard entered the room, looking puzzled. The embassy
man took the cane from the guard, walked purposefully towards me and started
thrashing my back and shoulders. He did it with such force that I began to
fall forwards, but he gripped my neck under his arm and continued to beat my
back, arms, buttocks and thighs viciously, to the guard's evident amusement.
I cried with the pain like a baby, unable to defend myself with my hands
cuffed behind me. Then he and the guard put me face up on the magistrate's
desk with my head hanging over the edge and he motioned the guard to grip my
head between his legs, with my face held fast to the guard's uniformed arse.
Once more the cane lashed down on me, this time on the front of my thighs,
my belly and tits. I screamed into the guard's sweaty arse. After probably
fifty strokes, the blond man stopped beating me, and the guard released my
head from between his thighs. The young man looked down at me as I shuddered
and sobbed. He lit a cigarette and smiled...

"This is what you deserve," he said softly: "I will make sure they'll treat
you like the common criminal you are - amazing what a few American dollars
will buy!" he laughed as he handed the guard a 5-dollar bill.

"Get up!"

Painfully, I manoeuvred myself off the table, and stood in front of him. I
was still handcuffed, and my body was covered, front and back, with vicious
red welts from the caning, and some of them were oozing little spots of
blood.

The big blond man sat comfortably in a chair, lighting another cigarette. He
looked at me intently, his cock bulging in his trousers with excitement.
Tears were running down my face from the throbbing pain all over my body,
but I stood to attention as he clearly expected of me.

After two or three minutes of standing like this in front of him in silence,
he got up from the chair and came towards me. He gripped the back of my neck
with his hand, took a drag on his cigarette and then planted his lips on
mine, forcing open my mouth with the hand in which he held the cigarette and
exhaled the smoke from his lungs into mine. I was grateful for this small
act of kindness, and breathed the smoke in deeply.

Continuing to kiss me, he whispered: "You're beautiful like this... Did they
ever use you as a toilet?..." I could only mumble something that
approximated to "yes Sir" as his fat tongue filled my mouth...

He stood back from me for a moment, then said: "Lie on the table!"

It was rather difficult, because my hands were still cuffed behind me, but I
managed to do as ordered, with my head hanging slightly over the edge. He
slowly undid his trousers, lowered them and his under pants, came towards
me, stood astride my head and planted his big arse on my face.

"Eat this, boy!" he growled, his voice thick with lust.

After a couple of stinking farts, I felt a turd push its way out through his
hairless hole and opened my mouth to receive it, encouraged by a couple more
strokes of the cane on my belly and thighs (it had been lying on the table).
Although I was now used to the taste and smell of men's shit, I chewed
quickly and swallowed, knowing there would be more and I did not want to
choke. It was a big turd, filling my mouth completely, but I did as
ordered... It was followed by a second, smaller turd and a few farts... the
human toilet I had become did its duty. With a satisfied grunt, the man
removed his arse from my face, looking down at me derisively as I licked my
lips clean.

As he pulled up his trousers and fastened his fly, he spoke:

"I will be back in a day or two - the Ambassador will want to see you after
my report... And - by the way - you realise that you will have to be
ringed?"

"Wh- what does that mean, Sir?" I asked...

"All life prisoners have their nipples and penis pierced with steel rings,
closed permanently: an extra precaution in case they escape. Removing them
would be impossible, unless the prisoner was prepared to have his nipples
and the end of his cock cut off!" he answered, laughingly.

I did not know what to say: in fact I was horrified - I just wanted to be
left here in peace, the prisoner of my inspector, the sex-object and toilet
I was destined to be. I did not want the embarrassment of official visits.
He saw the look of panic in my eyes, but just smiled. He turned abruptly,
opened the door and departed.

I was left lying handcuffed and naked on the magistrate's desk, but one of
the guards came in, hauled me off the table and marched me quickly back into
the cell with its sweaty, stinking prisoners. He locked the barred door
behind me and threw the keys into a drawer in the infamous desk over which
the prisoners were caned every day.

I was exhausted after my beatings and fuckings, yet my cock was half-hard.
My skin burned from the lashes of the cane all over my body. The other
prisoners could see what had been done to me, admiring and stroking the
welts on my back, belly, buttocks and legs. I did not want them to get too
excited, as I did not think I could take another fucking - but, being
handcuffed and naked, I could do nothing to hide or defend myself against
their exploring hands...