'Five years slavery with hard labour, no remission, take him down.' At first I thought I'd misheard the guy. He was old and kinda mumbled through a dirty grey beard. And he looked so bored when he said it, like it was no big deal or nothing. Then I thought it was some kind of joke, like a local way of saying, five years community work, part time, something like that. So I guess you can say that I was surprised when, as soon as I was off the stand and down into the lower regions of the courthouse, a great fat pig of a guard snapped handcuffs onto my wrists and shoved me into a cell.
'Your transport'll be here in about ten minutes, boy,' and stomped off, his boots echoing on the stone floor. I grabbed the bars of the cell and yelled after him, 'Hey man, what's all this shit? Come on, let me out! I ain't done nothing! I'm innocent!' No doubt they'd heard all that before - it sounded corny even to my ears but it was true. I'd been framed for a robbery I didn't commit. I was just the wrong guy in the wrong place at the wrong time - and presumably I was the same height and build as the guy who had pointed the gun at the cashier and made off with the money cos she had pcked me out no trouble at the parade. It was laughable really and a decent lawyer could have got me off but I couldn't afford one and the whole case was so stupid I hadn't taken it seriously.
I shook the bars of the cell and then took to kicking them, trying to make as much noise as possible. But a quarter of an hour passed before the pig returned, with two mean looking guys in prison warder uniform just behind him.
'You're getting off to a bad start, boy,' said the pig. 'That sort of behaviour don't go down too well with guys like these.'
'I don't know about that, Bob,' said the taller of the two warders. 'I kinda like 'em frisky, makes it more fun to break 'em.' The pig unlocked the cell and Bob, the heavier of the two warders, made a grab for me, pulling me out of the cell by the collar of my shirt and sticking his face right into mine he snarled, ' Listen, you little punk and listen well. Any trouble outta you and I'll whip your ass, you got that? '
'You can't do that,' I stammered but with little conviction, 'there's laws against that kinda thing.' All three laughed.
'Where you're going, punk, there's only one kinda law and that's our kind. We make the rules and you fucking obey or you regret it. Understood?'
'OK, OK!' I said, backing off a little. I was grabbed again, slapped hard across the face as he shouted at me, ' The correct response is "Sir, yes sir, understood, sir."' I hesitated a second too long because he slapped me again and shouted, 'Understood?'
'Sir, yes sir, understood, sir!' I replied.
'That's better, boy. Sooner you learn how a slave behaves the easier it'll be for you. Right, let's get going.' The two guys frog-marched me down the corridor and out of the building while the pig called after them, 'Enjoy him, guys!' I was bustled into the back of a prison van. Inside the back were a number of low cages, a bit like dog kennels but with bars on the front.
'OK, boy, get in backwards. See how nice we are, letting you look out of your cage?' That's it, boy, in you go!' There was only room to kneel in the cage and even then it was a tight fit. When I was in, the tall one locked the door of the cage, then locked the back of the van. Within a minute we were off.
It was an uncomfortable journey. I was still handcuffed and the cuffs were biting deep into my wrists, made all the worse by being thrown from side to side as the van turned corners and worse again when it pulled off the freeway onto some kind of dirt track which went on and on for miles. I reckon there was over thirty miles of the dirt track before we came to a halt. Wherever we were it was clearly the back of beyond.
The van door was unlocked and there were these two guys with great smirks on their faces.
'Well boy, this is your new home for the next five years. Hope you like it!'
The cage door was unlocked, they both grabbed me and dragged me out. I was stiff and could scarcely stand but they gave me no time to collect myself but hauled me up and dragged me indoors. I had just time to see that night had fallen, and that I had arrived in a kind of compound, surrounded by high stone walls. This was no flimsy little structure but a real, high security prison. I was dragged down a corridor with bare brick walls, only occasionally broken up by a metal door, until we came to a halt outside one of these. The taller pig knocked on the door, and, not waiting for an answer, I was marched inside. A uniformed governor, tall, greying, middle-aged but good-looking, was talking to a few of his associates. He looked up briefly.
'The new one?' The tall guard replied smartly, 'Yes, sir!'
'Did he give you any trouble?'
'A bit of insubordination but otherwise OK, Sir!'
'Right, standard irons to start then.' And he turned back to his conversation.
I was marched off again, down another corridor, and into a large tiled room with showers along one wall. Then, to my surprise, the handcuffs were removed. Immediately I started to rub my wrists which were red and sore.
'Strip!' ordered the heavier guard. I started to peel off my clothes, instinctively turning way to hide my embarrassment which only made them laugh. While I was doing this, another guard entered and waited till I was naked then said in a bored voice, 'Sit here.' I sat down and he plugged in a set of electric shears and began to crop my hair. Shave would be closer to it as there was no attempt at a cut; this was simply a way of removing as much of the hair on my head as he could. No marine ever had less hair than he left me with. Then Bob chucked me a bar of soap and said, 'Shower'. I stood trying to get the water to run hot before I realised that it never would and, shivering, I got under the cold jet. I turned away from them to hide my genitals but they kept up a running commentary all the same.
'Kinda tight ass that kid's got.'
'Tight little body all round.' and more of that sort of thing, some of which made my stomach sink when I heard it. They couldn't mean what they were saying, surely? There were laws, and surely even here....
I stepped out of the shower and they chucked a coarse towel at me. When I had finished drying myself, I looked round for my clothes but they had gone. I stood there foolishly for a moment before saying, as respectfully as I could for I was kinda scared by now, 'Sir, where are my clothes, Sir?'
'No kid, you don't get clothes yet for a while, except for the sort you won't want to wear anyhow!' I looked baffled but once again I was grabbed and marched out of the room, down the corridor and into a place that looked like a blacksmith's forge. There was a huge iron oven along one wall with a lid open, revealing a white hot fire glowing. Around the wall hung all sorts of chains and iron contraptions that I couldn't guess what they were supposed to be for. A dirty, fat guy in a leather apron looked over his shoulder as we entered.
'Standard irons? Boy, you must have been good! Well, I hope yer startin' as you mean to go on - you'll find life here'll be a lot easier. OK, boy, over here and we'll soon have you kitted out.'
I moved across to him, where he was standing beside a low anvil on the ground. I was really scared now. I was beginning to believe that in this place they were capable of anything and I was convinced I could see a branding iron in the fire. I was wide eyed with terror so I was sort of relieved when the 'blacksmith' placed a heavy iron cuff around my ankle. It was about two inches wide, hinged and with a hole on each half where they met. 'Hold him steady, you guys, while I fix it.' The other two guards grabbed hold of my ankle and held it at an angle on the anvil. The 'blacksmith' stuck a pair of long handled tongs into the fire and pulled out a glowing metal bolt. Deftly, he inserted it into the holes in the anklet. I could feel the intense heat from the bolt and didn't dare move as he reached for a heavy iron mallet and banged it half a dozen times. Then chucked cold water over it. It hissed furiously as it cooled. I couldn't believe it! It was clear that I was being put in chains, incredible enough though that seemed. But to weld the fetters in place! This was a permanent business, with no question of being released for a while now and again. They really meant these things to stay on. I started to cry. Not a macho thing to do but I was so tired, so disorientated and rapidly going into shock with the events of the last few hours.
They ignored my tears and proceeded to the other ankle. Within a minute that was done too. It came as no surprise to me that they then moved on to shackle my wrists as well and I whimpered a little through that process as well. But when the 'blacksmith' produced a metal collar and tried to put it round my neck I really resisted.
'Fuck you, you bastards, you can't do this to me. I'm not a fucking animal! I'm a man - I got rights.' I really struggled, trying to bite them and kick them as they had my arms pinioned but I was one against three and it was hopeless. When I had exhausted myself, they dragged me across the room and two of them held me over a bench while the third picked up a belt. I was sobbing, 'Please, please don't do this...' but one of the two holding me hissed in my ear, 'Shut up you little punk. You're not a man anymore, you have no rights of any kind. You're a slave - do you hear me? A slave! Come on, boy, say it! Let me hear you say it!'
'Sir, I'm a slave, sir!' I said between sobs.
'And you gotta be punished so hold still.' I couldn't move in any case but I braced myself for the blows. I heard the belt swish before it landed on my ass. I yelled and again as another fell. He swung as hard as he could, some hitting full in the centre of my ass, some (and these were the worst) curling round the side and whipping the more tender parts of my body. He gave me ten. By the end I was yelling no more, just blubbing like a baby. I was dragged across the room again. The collar went round my neck. I was forced down to the anvil again, the bolt was inserted, the mallet fell, a bucket of cold water was chucked over me and I was left lying on the floor, fettered.
It wasn't quite over yet though they had no trouble from me again that night. I was broken and in despair. The 'blacksmith' produced lengths of heavy chain and welded one end to the D ring of my metal collar. A smaller chain was welded on the rings of each metal cuff and another chain between each metal anklet. Then all the chains were welded to a heavy metal ring which banged against my chest. My hands rested at about chest level; the chain between my anklets only permitted me to shuffle. So shuffle I did, the chains clanking as I moved, out of the door and along the corridor.
A huge metal door was unlocked, a light switched on and I was pushed in. It was a huge cell, really more like a dungeon; there seemed to be no windows. The walls were brick, unpainted, the floor stone with no covering. As the light flicked on a number of bodies stirred and looked in my direction. There were about a dozen guys in that dungeon, all around my age, late teens or early twenties. They were lying on the floor on top of straw, with a rough blanket between each one and the straw. All of them were shaven-headed like me, all were in heavy metal bondage and all chained by the neck to the wall. But their bondage differed. Some were in the same weight of irons as I was but there were two in much heavier irons. And there were a couple in strange contraptions, rigid irons which permitted no movement at all. One poor boy had the metal collar, cuffs and anklets that I had but also an extra collar fixed to an iron triangular frame which was also attached to his wrists and his ankles, forcing him into a sitting position which he could not move from. They stared at me listlessly and then most simply looked away, bored.
I was dragged across the dungeon to a vacant place on the opposite wall where a chain attached to an iron ring embedded in the wall was quickly padlocked to my collar. It didn't allow me much movement but I could at least lie down on the straw, unlike some of the others. The light was switched off and the door clanged shut and was securely locked. There was no light at all and I lay there holding my breath, waiting for someone to speak to me but no one did. I fidgeted a little at first, trying to get comfortable. The metal felt so heavy and the chains had added a lot to the weight. I felt that the metal collar was too tight and I had visions of choking but the panic passed. My chains clanked with every move I made until a harsh voice to my left said, 'Quit shiftin' around slave!' and I lay still, wondering if I would ever be able to sleep....
But I drifted off, eventually. Despite my apprehensions as to what would happen to me, despite lying on a cold stone floor with only a few handfuls of straw between me and it, I was exhausted and slept soundly - so soundly that I didn't hear the door being unlocked or the clank of chains around me as my fellow slaves woke up. A metal-capped boot hit my side and as my eyes opened in alarm the chain attaching my collar to the wall was pulled upward. I made it to my knees and was struggling to stand upright when a voice, I recognised it as Bob's, said, "Just stay right where you are, slave; you've a duty to perform." His cock, thick and uncut, was bouncing around in front of my face. "Open your fucking mouth, slave." I stared up at him blankly. Grabbing my face, he pressed until my mouth opened. I waited for the cock to plunge into it, guessing that cocksucking must be the duty I was expected to perform. He bent down and spat into my mouth.
"I always spit before I piss, slave, spit in a pisser. It's a new boy's honour to be used as a toilet until the next one arrives here. Might be a day, might be a week; one slave was the guards' toilet for almost a month when we had some lily-livered liberal in the courts. You're our new toilet until the next consignment arrives. And you don't drink it I'll piss all over you and on your space here, all over that straw, so that you'll be living in piss. Better to drink it, slave..." Put like that, I knew I had no option and he stuck his dick in my mouth and let loose. I gulped down most of it.
"You'd better learn to do better than that, toilet boy. Some of my buddies aren't so indulgent as I am."
While this was taking place, other guards were busy unlocking the slaves from the wall; even the guy in the triangular contraption was released from it and led out with the others. I stood up, expecting to be released too but Bob said, "No, slave, you don't get to join the others till your new post has passed on to another. You stay put, chained to the wall and waiting toilet duty. Any of the guards need to piss or shit, they'll come here to get you. That means when this door opens you get on your fucking knees and open your slave mouth and wait to be used. Simple really, not too many rules for you to have to learn; and you needn't worry about being bored, chained up here on your own - you'll have plenty of visits...."
to be continued....
'Your transport'll be here in about ten minutes, boy,' and stomped off, his boots echoing on the stone floor. I grabbed the bars of the cell and yelled after him, 'Hey man, what's all this shit? Come on, let me out! I ain't done nothing! I'm innocent!' No doubt they'd heard all that before - it sounded corny even to my ears but it was true. I'd been framed for a robbery I didn't commit. I was just the wrong guy in the wrong place at the wrong time - and presumably I was the same height and build as the guy who had pointed the gun at the cashier and made off with the money cos she had pcked me out no trouble at the parade. It was laughable really and a decent lawyer could have got me off but I couldn't afford one and the whole case was so stupid I hadn't taken it seriously.
I shook the bars of the cell and then took to kicking them, trying to make as much noise as possible. But a quarter of an hour passed before the pig returned, with two mean looking guys in prison warder uniform just behind him.
'You're getting off to a bad start, boy,' said the pig. 'That sort of behaviour don't go down too well with guys like these.'
'I don't know about that, Bob,' said the taller of the two warders. 'I kinda like 'em frisky, makes it more fun to break 'em.' The pig unlocked the cell and Bob, the heavier of the two warders, made a grab for me, pulling me out of the cell by the collar of my shirt and sticking his face right into mine he snarled, ' Listen, you little punk and listen well. Any trouble outta you and I'll whip your ass, you got that? '
'You can't do that,' I stammered but with little conviction, 'there's laws against that kinda thing.' All three laughed.
'Where you're going, punk, there's only one kinda law and that's our kind. We make the rules and you fucking obey or you regret it. Understood?'
'OK, OK!' I said, backing off a little. I was grabbed again, slapped hard across the face as he shouted at me, ' The correct response is "Sir, yes sir, understood, sir."' I hesitated a second too long because he slapped me again and shouted, 'Understood?'
'Sir, yes sir, understood, sir!' I replied.
'That's better, boy. Sooner you learn how a slave behaves the easier it'll be for you. Right, let's get going.' The two guys frog-marched me down the corridor and out of the building while the pig called after them, 'Enjoy him, guys!' I was bustled into the back of a prison van. Inside the back were a number of low cages, a bit like dog kennels but with bars on the front.
'OK, boy, get in backwards. See how nice we are, letting you look out of your cage?' That's it, boy, in you go!' There was only room to kneel in the cage and even then it was a tight fit. When I was in, the tall one locked the door of the cage, then locked the back of the van. Within a minute we were off.
It was an uncomfortable journey. I was still handcuffed and the cuffs were biting deep into my wrists, made all the worse by being thrown from side to side as the van turned corners and worse again when it pulled off the freeway onto some kind of dirt track which went on and on for miles. I reckon there was over thirty miles of the dirt track before we came to a halt. Wherever we were it was clearly the back of beyond.
The van door was unlocked and there were these two guys with great smirks on their faces.
'Well boy, this is your new home for the next five years. Hope you like it!'
The cage door was unlocked, they both grabbed me and dragged me out. I was stiff and could scarcely stand but they gave me no time to collect myself but hauled me up and dragged me indoors. I had just time to see that night had fallen, and that I had arrived in a kind of compound, surrounded by high stone walls. This was no flimsy little structure but a real, high security prison. I was dragged down a corridor with bare brick walls, only occasionally broken up by a metal door, until we came to a halt outside one of these. The taller pig knocked on the door, and, not waiting for an answer, I was marched inside. A uniformed governor, tall, greying, middle-aged but good-looking, was talking to a few of his associates. He looked up briefly.
'The new one?' The tall guard replied smartly, 'Yes, sir!'
'Did he give you any trouble?'
'A bit of insubordination but otherwise OK, Sir!'
'Right, standard irons to start then.' And he turned back to his conversation.
I was marched off again, down another corridor, and into a large tiled room with showers along one wall. Then, to my surprise, the handcuffs were removed. Immediately I started to rub my wrists which were red and sore.
'Strip!' ordered the heavier guard. I started to peel off my clothes, instinctively turning way to hide my embarrassment which only made them laugh. While I was doing this, another guard entered and waited till I was naked then said in a bored voice, 'Sit here.' I sat down and he plugged in a set of electric shears and began to crop my hair. Shave would be closer to it as there was no attempt at a cut; this was simply a way of removing as much of the hair on my head as he could. No marine ever had less hair than he left me with. Then Bob chucked me a bar of soap and said, 'Shower'. I stood trying to get the water to run hot before I realised that it never would and, shivering, I got under the cold jet. I turned away from them to hide my genitals but they kept up a running commentary all the same.
'Kinda tight ass that kid's got.'
'Tight little body all round.' and more of that sort of thing, some of which made my stomach sink when I heard it. They couldn't mean what they were saying, surely? There were laws, and surely even here....
I stepped out of the shower and they chucked a coarse towel at me. When I had finished drying myself, I looked round for my clothes but they had gone. I stood there foolishly for a moment before saying, as respectfully as I could for I was kinda scared by now, 'Sir, where are my clothes, Sir?'
'No kid, you don't get clothes yet for a while, except for the sort you won't want to wear anyhow!' I looked baffled but once again I was grabbed and marched out of the room, down the corridor and into a place that looked like a blacksmith's forge. There was a huge iron oven along one wall with a lid open, revealing a white hot fire glowing. Around the wall hung all sorts of chains and iron contraptions that I couldn't guess what they were supposed to be for. A dirty, fat guy in a leather apron looked over his shoulder as we entered.
'Standard irons? Boy, you must have been good! Well, I hope yer startin' as you mean to go on - you'll find life here'll be a lot easier. OK, boy, over here and we'll soon have you kitted out.'
I moved across to him, where he was standing beside a low anvil on the ground. I was really scared now. I was beginning to believe that in this place they were capable of anything and I was convinced I could see a branding iron in the fire. I was wide eyed with terror so I was sort of relieved when the 'blacksmith' placed a heavy iron cuff around my ankle. It was about two inches wide, hinged and with a hole on each half where they met. 'Hold him steady, you guys, while I fix it.' The other two guards grabbed hold of my ankle and held it at an angle on the anvil. The 'blacksmith' stuck a pair of long handled tongs into the fire and pulled out a glowing metal bolt. Deftly, he inserted it into the holes in the anklet. I could feel the intense heat from the bolt and didn't dare move as he reached for a heavy iron mallet and banged it half a dozen times. Then chucked cold water over it. It hissed furiously as it cooled. I couldn't believe it! It was clear that I was being put in chains, incredible enough though that seemed. But to weld the fetters in place! This was a permanent business, with no question of being released for a while now and again. They really meant these things to stay on. I started to cry. Not a macho thing to do but I was so tired, so disorientated and rapidly going into shock with the events of the last few hours.
They ignored my tears and proceeded to the other ankle. Within a minute that was done too. It came as no surprise to me that they then moved on to shackle my wrists as well and I whimpered a little through that process as well. But when the 'blacksmith' produced a metal collar and tried to put it round my neck I really resisted.
'Fuck you, you bastards, you can't do this to me. I'm not a fucking animal! I'm a man - I got rights.' I really struggled, trying to bite them and kick them as they had my arms pinioned but I was one against three and it was hopeless. When I had exhausted myself, they dragged me across the room and two of them held me over a bench while the third picked up a belt. I was sobbing, 'Please, please don't do this...' but one of the two holding me hissed in my ear, 'Shut up you little punk. You're not a man anymore, you have no rights of any kind. You're a slave - do you hear me? A slave! Come on, boy, say it! Let me hear you say it!'
'Sir, I'm a slave, sir!' I said between sobs.
'And you gotta be punished so hold still.' I couldn't move in any case but I braced myself for the blows. I heard the belt swish before it landed on my ass. I yelled and again as another fell. He swung as hard as he could, some hitting full in the centre of my ass, some (and these were the worst) curling round the side and whipping the more tender parts of my body. He gave me ten. By the end I was yelling no more, just blubbing like a baby. I was dragged across the room again. The collar went round my neck. I was forced down to the anvil again, the bolt was inserted, the mallet fell, a bucket of cold water was chucked over me and I was left lying on the floor, fettered.
It wasn't quite over yet though they had no trouble from me again that night. I was broken and in despair. The 'blacksmith' produced lengths of heavy chain and welded one end to the D ring of my metal collar. A smaller chain was welded on the rings of each metal cuff and another chain between each metal anklet. Then all the chains were welded to a heavy metal ring which banged against my chest. My hands rested at about chest level; the chain between my anklets only permitted me to shuffle. So shuffle I did, the chains clanking as I moved, out of the door and along the corridor.
A huge metal door was unlocked, a light switched on and I was pushed in. It was a huge cell, really more like a dungeon; there seemed to be no windows. The walls were brick, unpainted, the floor stone with no covering. As the light flicked on a number of bodies stirred and looked in my direction. There were about a dozen guys in that dungeon, all around my age, late teens or early twenties. They were lying on the floor on top of straw, with a rough blanket between each one and the straw. All of them were shaven-headed like me, all were in heavy metal bondage and all chained by the neck to the wall. But their bondage differed. Some were in the same weight of irons as I was but there were two in much heavier irons. And there were a couple in strange contraptions, rigid irons which permitted no movement at all. One poor boy had the metal collar, cuffs and anklets that I had but also an extra collar fixed to an iron triangular frame which was also attached to his wrists and his ankles, forcing him into a sitting position which he could not move from. They stared at me listlessly and then most simply looked away, bored.
I was dragged across the dungeon to a vacant place on the opposite wall where a chain attached to an iron ring embedded in the wall was quickly padlocked to my collar. It didn't allow me much movement but I could at least lie down on the straw, unlike some of the others. The light was switched off and the door clanged shut and was securely locked. There was no light at all and I lay there holding my breath, waiting for someone to speak to me but no one did. I fidgeted a little at first, trying to get comfortable. The metal felt so heavy and the chains had added a lot to the weight. I felt that the metal collar was too tight and I had visions of choking but the panic passed. My chains clanked with every move I made until a harsh voice to my left said, 'Quit shiftin' around slave!' and I lay still, wondering if I would ever be able to sleep....
But I drifted off, eventually. Despite my apprehensions as to what would happen to me, despite lying on a cold stone floor with only a few handfuls of straw between me and it, I was exhausted and slept soundly - so soundly that I didn't hear the door being unlocked or the clank of chains around me as my fellow slaves woke up. A metal-capped boot hit my side and as my eyes opened in alarm the chain attaching my collar to the wall was pulled upward. I made it to my knees and was struggling to stand upright when a voice, I recognised it as Bob's, said, "Just stay right where you are, slave; you've a duty to perform." His cock, thick and uncut, was bouncing around in front of my face. "Open your fucking mouth, slave." I stared up at him blankly. Grabbing my face, he pressed until my mouth opened. I waited for the cock to plunge into it, guessing that cocksucking must be the duty I was expected to perform. He bent down and spat into my mouth.
"I always spit before I piss, slave, spit in a pisser. It's a new boy's honour to be used as a toilet until the next one arrives here. Might be a day, might be a week; one slave was the guards' toilet for almost a month when we had some lily-livered liberal in the courts. You're our new toilet until the next consignment arrives. And you don't drink it I'll piss all over you and on your space here, all over that straw, so that you'll be living in piss. Better to drink it, slave..." Put like that, I knew I had no option and he stuck his dick in my mouth and let loose. I gulped down most of it.
"You'd better learn to do better than that, toilet boy. Some of my buddies aren't so indulgent as I am."
While this was taking place, other guards were busy unlocking the slaves from the wall; even the guy in the triangular contraption was released from it and led out with the others. I stood up, expecting to be released too but Bob said, "No, slave, you don't get to join the others till your new post has passed on to another. You stay put, chained to the wall and waiting toilet duty. Any of the guards need to piss or shit, they'll come here to get you. That means when this door opens you get on your fucking knees and open your slave mouth and wait to be used. Simple really, not too many rules for you to have to learn; and you needn't worry about being bored, chained up here on your own - you'll have plenty of visits...."
to be continued....