Journey Into Night 1-10

by Beastmaster42.

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

JOURNEY INTO NIGHT

CHAPTER ONE

I was touring in a small ex-communist country in the Balkans by car. I was alone. I was driving along a dusty country road with nothing in sight – no house, no church, not even a dog. I wanted to get out of this desolate place, as kidnappings were frequent in this part of the world, so I put my foot down on the accelerator. I could see the dust swirling behind me in my mirror. Suddenly, a policeman popped out from behind a tree and waved me down. He waved me down - since they were armed, I decided to be a 'good boy' and stop. I pulled over. There were actually two policemen, the other one standing next to their car in the shade of what seemed to be the only large tree in the whole desolate, unbearably hot landscape.

He indicated for me to get out of the car. He could see by my number plate that I was a foreigner, so he spoke to me in halting English....

"Papers!" he said in a tired sort of voice. I produced my passport and driving licence.

He studied them intently, while his colleague fingered the gun in his holster nervously. They were both tall and heavily built, their uniforms were sticking to their bodies with sweat (they had obviously been on the job for quite some time).

The first man placed my documents on the bonnet of his car and beckoned me over to him:

"You English?" he asked.

I nodded as I approached him nervously. When I got near him, the smell of sweat became overpowering (obviously they were not in the habit of washing too regularly in this part of the world).

"You go too fast!" "I'm sorry," I replied.

"You must pay!" I thought, well this is going to be difficult, because I did not have much local currency left....

"How much?" I asked.

"Two thousand," came the reply. This was equivalent to about seventy English pounds - but I did not have them. I told him so.

"You have Deutschmarks?" I did not. I offered him a cheque, but of course it was worthless in this part of the world.

"But you must pay..." he insisted.

I offered to go to the nearest town with him to a bank, where I could get money out with one of my credit cards. He conferred with his colleague, but I did not understand the language, so I could not make out what they were saying. They were both looking at me... I shuffled nervously from one foot to the other. It was very, very hot and I was wearing just a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. They were in hot, sweat-soaked uniforms...

The first man came back to me: "No money - we must arrest you!"

This came as a shock, and I started to protest - but they immediately got out their pistols and pointed them straight at me. I raised my hands and shut up. Obviously, the money would have gone straight into their own pockets, to supplement their meagre income, and they were annoyed that this foreigner was not going to oblige them.

"We search you!..." he said, calmly. They ordered me to open the boot, and then my bag with all my clothes in it. They looked inside the car, but I was carrying nothing of any value, because thefts from foreigners were frequent here.

Not finding even a camera, they became annoyed. He repeated: "You have no money?"

"No," I replied, "I carry only plastic - credit cards - because it's safer..."

The sweat dripped down his forehead from under his crew-cut hair...

"Then we arrest you!"

With his colleague's pistol pointing straight at me, he took out a pair of handcuffs, motioned for me to put my hands behind my back, and snapped them shut over my wrists. I became very nervous now - but consoled myself with the thought that, once in the police station, I could phone the British embassy and they would get me out.

They motioned me to get in their car, and I did so - I was in no position to argue. I sat in the back with one of them, while the other one drove.

We went along dusty trails for miles, but civilisation seemed to get no closer. Eventually I saw a small, isolated building in the distance. We drove towards it. The car drew up beside it, and I was ordered out. It was obviously the 'police station'. One of the big policemen took me firmly by the arm and marched me inside.

There was a small desk with the duty policeman seated at it, and a small group of men and a couple of teenage boys, waiting around for their cases to be dealt with.

There was one cell with bars at the back of the only room in the building.

"I - I need to call my embassy...." I started to say, panicking now.

"Later," the big man said nonchalantly, unlocking my handcuffs.

He unlocked the cell and motioned me in...

"We must search you - take off your clothes!" ... Now I was really in panic - how could it be necessary to search me for a speeding offence? What in God's name would they do to me, here in the middle of nowhere? I hesitated...

"Now! You break law, you have no money - we arrest you! We search every prisoner for drugs, you know this is normal"...

Well it might be normal for them, but I was not used to this treatment. I still hesitated...

"P-please, not in front of these people..." I started to stutter, but his colleague simply came over and they both ripped off my T-shirt and pulled down my shorts and pants without saying a word. As they were much bigger than me, I was not in much of a position to resist. I stood there, naked in front of the men and boys, sweating as much from fear as the stifling heat. They looked me up and down, their eyes glittering.

They could clearly see I had no drugs on me - where could I hide them?

They looked at each other and smiled - I was embarrassed as the men and boys looked at me curiously as I stood there naked, and put my hands over my cock and balls. I spoke:

"You see? I have no drugs..."

"We will see..." and with that, they walked me firmly over to the table in the room beyond the cell and unceremoniously bent me over it... I knew what was coming next, but did not dare to resist - after all, they could beat me up if they wanted to, and no-one would help me. I decided to play along with them and just... submit.

One of them kicked my legs apart, and I gripped the far edge of the table....

I felt my buttocks being pulled apart, exposing my hole to the other men and the two boys... then something cold and metallic was pushed into my hole: it was a gun!

The colleague of the man holding the gun up my ass moved in front of me - his crotch was just in front of my face....

"You are bad boy! You break our law! You have no money, so we punish you!"

Now I was afraid... But I decided discretion was the better part of valour here, with no-one to protect me, and continued to play along with them. With a gun up my ass I was in position to protest anyway. "Yes Sir," I said quietly...

The man in front of me took my hands from the edge of the table, put them behind my back and snapped the handcuffs on them as before. As he bent over to do so, his crotch was pushed into my face - it smelled bad, a mixture of days of sweat and God knows what else lurked inside his uniform trousers.

Then he stood up in front of me and started to undo his fly buttons... As he did so, he repeated: "You bad boy! We must punish you... You understand this?" I nodded slowly...

"Good! Now we teach you to be good boy!"

I watched in horror as he took out his uncircumcised cock: it was half hard, fat, sweaty and smelled cheesy and pissy...

Handcuffed, naked, bent over the table with a gun up my ass, I did not resist as he pulled open my mouth and, pulling back his foreskin to reveal a cheese-encrusted cock head, he pushed it in, ordering me to suck...

"Now you learn to be good boy!" he said, as I nearly threw up with the stink and taste of his foul, unwashed member expanding in my mouth as he gripped the back of my head and pushed it all the way in....

Then he pulled it out, lifted it up and pointed to his sweaty balls – he obviously wanted them licked too... Since submission was the only strategy left to me in this nightmare, I did what was expected of me...

"You see? Now you good boy!" I wanted to puke as I licked what was probably days of sweat off his balls, but felt a bit relieved that he was pleased with me...

I felt the gun being pulled out of my asshole, and heard the other cop fiddling with his trousers and spitting on his dick: of course, I knew what was coming, and tried to relax, knowing that my hole was about to be invaded by his fucking dick... However, the violence and suddenness of his entry took my breath away, and I opened my mouth to scream, but it was brutally filled with the other cop's stinking dick as he shoved it in... the only sound that came out of my mouth was "mmmmpppffff!"

I could only take it, being stuffed with dick at both ends, naked and helpless as I was, with my hands cuffed behind me. The other men and the two boys (who I guessed were about 12 years old) watched the proceedings in silence - clearly this was a common occurrence in this remote part of the country...

At last, the cop behind me shot his load up my shithole with a satisfied grunt, leaving his dick in there for a while till his colleague shot a hot load of cop spunk into my mouth and down my throat. Eventually, the foul thing was pulled out of my mouth and the cop who had fucked me walked round in front of me and stuck his cock in front of my face: I could see it was pretty shitty, and he glowered down at me angrily...

"You dirty boy!..." Well, I wasn't exactly expecting to get raped, was I?

"You clean me, NOW!" With my hands still cuffed behind me, I wasn't sure how I was supposed to do that - but he just pulled open my cum-filled mouth and shoved the filthy thing in...

"You clean me!" he repeated. I was nearly sick as the taste and smell of my own shitty, sweaty ass filled my mouth and nose. I could do nothing but start licking and sucking the filthy thing clean as ordered.

"You from West, you think we are nothing! You think we are shit! Now you eat shit! We teach you to respect us!..." He was right, of course. Now I was going to have to submit to this humiliation for God knew how long, till they finally released me. There was no way out - I would just have to please them till they thought I had been 'taught' my lesson.

Eventually, he pulled his foul cock out of my mouth and inspected it carefully: it was clean, and he stuffed it back in his trousers. Submission was still the only strategy: the sooner they thought I had been taught humility, the sooner I would be out of this place... So I dared to speak:

"Sir, you are right - we are arrogant in the West, and I deserve this for my arrogance. Thank you for training me... I will do my best to learn my lessons well, Sir!" I was astonished at my own words, but I knew it was the only way to avoid their anger, and maybe a few beatings.

"Good!" he replied: "We teach you good not be arrogant! You think we are nothing! You think we are all dirty peasants! Now you learn respect for dirty peasants! Now you are nothing!"

I dared to ask: "Wh - when will you let me call the embassy?"

The cops just smiled at each other... "When we have finished with you - there is no need to call embassy!"

What did this mean? It sounded like they would release me soon, and I could be on my way... or did it mean I would be here for much longer, to be used for their satisfaction, a toy to play with?

"When you learn your lesson good, we let you go - understand?"

"Yes, Sir," I answered nervously. I could feel his spunk leaking out of my hole and dribbling stickily down to my hanging balls and cock...

"Now you are prisoner, and we must process you like all prisoners..." What did that mean? I soon found out....

They stood me up, then laid me down on the table, face up... my heart was pounding. One of them produced some soap and a razor: I was still handcuffed, so if they wanted to cut off my balls, I would not be able to resist them... I was terrified. But they just smiled down at me. My head was hanging just over the edge of the table, and one of them straddled it, gripping it firmly between his thick thighs, with my face firmly held up to his ass - thank God he was still wearing trousers! Even so, the stink of his big, sweaty, unwashed bum permeated them, and the smell was making me sick...

The other one soaped up my cock and balls and began shaving all the hair off... I suppose prisoners were shaved in case they were carrying lice. With my hands cuffed and his colleague's big ass in my face, I couldn't do anything, so I just let him get on with it...

Then the cop holding my face in his ass pulled up my legs and his mate shaved the hair off my asshole, my legs, then my chest. At a certain point, the cop farted in my face, but did not release his grip. The stench was unbelievable, and I thought I would throw up... They both laughed... as did the two boys.

Eventually, they sat me up and shaved all the hair off my head: I looked down at my chest and cock: they were, like my legs and belly, as smooth as the day I was born...

With my head shaved, I was now 'clean', and they stood me up on the floor, surveying their handiwork... The waiting men and boys eyed me curiously...

"Now you learn rules! Every day, prisoners get beating in morning!" I was terrified - I thought my submissiveness would be enough for them, but this was something new. What did 'beating' mean? I soon found out...

The cop who had farted in my face produced a vicious-looking cane from the corner of the room and walked towards me, hefting it in his hand, slashing it through the air, to show me what he intended to do...

"It is now midday, and prisoner get beaten in morning early: but we give you beating now, then tomorrow when you wake up!"

I was nearly shitting myself - I was sure he would cut my ass to ribbons. I had been caned many times at school, so I knew what to expect... Again, the only strategy would be to submit - any protest would be likely to anger him further, and the beating would be much worse, of that I was sure. I just looked down at the floor submissively... He snapped his fingers and pointed to the table. I guessed that was his way of saying "bend over!", so I slowly walked towards it, my hands still cuffed behind me, and bent over it, presenting my buttocks for punishment the way I had done so many times at school....

It had been some time since I was last beaten, so when the first stroke landed with a crack across my ass, I was shocked and stood up involuntarily... but his colleague, in front of me, just pulled me down again by my shoulders, and held my head between his thick thighs, so there would be no more interruptions. I groaned between his legs as the can whistled down again and again... I felt embarrassed knowing that the other men and the boys were watching my bare arse (with my cock and bollocks hanging down between my legs) getting whipped. After twenty vicious strokes, the beating stopped. My head was released from its stifling, sweaty prison and I stood up, with tears in my eyes.

I looked him straight in the eye and said: "Thank you Sir... it is good of you to teach me respect this way..."

My words had the desired effect: they were disconcerted by my submissiveness. They felt a slight twinge of embarrassment.

My tormentor threw the cane down on the table and his colleague pushed me into the cell. I was thirsty, and asked for some water... He smiled at me, and calmly got out his cock and pissed into what I presumed was the water-bucket...

"You need drink? - Here!", he said, putting the bucket on the floor. To drink this cop's piss was another act of humiliation I would have to endure, but I did not think I could do it, so I just stood there looking at the frothy yellow liquid...

"When you are really thirsty, you will drink!" he said, locking the cell door behind him. They both looked at me through the bars, and laughed. Then they left, leaving me naked, shaved, beaten and handcuffed in my cell.

"We come back later," one of them said as they left the small building, leaving me alone with the duty policeman and the other men and boys. The boys looked at me, whispering to each other and sniggering.

Alone in the stifling heat of my cell, I had nothing to do but contemplate what was happening to me. How long would it be before they came back? Would I be tried in court? What would the sentence be - imprisonment? For how long? Would I be flogged (this was a customary punishment in these parts)?

One of them had said that prisoners get beaten every morning, and of course there was nothing I could do about all this until the embassy had been informed - but I had been denied access to such communications. I could die in their custody and nobody would know about it.

However, the fact that I am writing about my nightmare is proof that such an end did not await me, though at the time I could not know this.

The stink of the frothy piss in the bucket grew stronger with the heat, but eventually I became so thirsty I knelt down with my hands cuffed behind me and slowly lowered my head into the bucket to lap at the foul yellow liquid inside it. I was grateful for the policeman's stinking piss. The thought that I was actually grateful for this degradation revealed to me how low I had sunk - was it possible to go any lower?

The others - the men, the boys and the duty policeman looked at me and sniggered, but I was so goddam thirsty, I had  to drink...

I drank just enough to slake my thirst as the taste was disgusting. When I got up off my knees once more, piss dripping from my face, I saw that the two men were remonstrating with the duty policeman: I knew enough of their language to know that the boys had done something wrong, and the men had brought them into the police station to be dealt with. After some discussion and note-taking, the men stripped the boys naked and held them down over the table, ready for the policeman to give them the customary punishment...

The cane whistled down, first on one boy's buttocks ten times, then the other's. The second boy was so scared he began to shit himself, a couple of turds plopping down between his legs as the policeman beat his wobbling buttocks. The men laughed, but the punishment continued unabated till the ten strokes had been dished out. Then they were allowed to stand up. The policeman harangued them both as they stood there, naked, with tears streaming down their faces, particularly the one who had lost control of his bowels. They rubbed their striped buttocks as he did so. The men looked over in my direction and at the turds on the floor. I could only guess what they were saying, but whatever it was caused the boys to stop crying and brighten up, giggling...

The policeman walked over to my cell, unlocked it and snapped his fingers, motioning me over towards the desk. One of the men bent the boy who had shat himself over it again and the policeman, standing behind me, pushed me to my knees in front of the boy's arse.

"You clean boy - NOW!" the policeman barked. I knew now what was expected of me, but I was assisted in my task by the policeman, who pushed my face into the boy's shitty arse so my tongue could do its work. The boy squirmed and groaned as my tongue lapped at his shitty hole and pushed its way inside. He farted a couple of times, but I continued my degrading task. After they considered that I had completed it, the policeman pulled my head away from his bum and inspected the boy's smooth hole - he was satisfied that it was clean enough. Then he went and brought the bucket with the rest of the piss I had not yet drunk, placed it beside me and snapped his fingers, pointing to the boy's turds which lay on the floor. Clearly, I had to pick them up and put them in the bucket - but my hands were still cuffed behind me... He just smirked down at me - and I knew what I had to do: slowly, I lowered my head and picked up the boy's turds in my mouth and dropped them into the piss remaining in the bucket. The men and the two boys sniggered as I was humiliated in front of them...

Then I was ordered to lick the shitty streaks off the floor. When I had cleaned the floor to the policeman's satisfaction, I licked the remaining boy's shit off my lips.

CHAPTER 2

After a several hours had passed (though I could not tell the time, as my watch had been confiscated, along with everything I possessed, and in any case my hands were cuffed behind me), I heard a key turning in the outside door, and my three captors returned. The wet patches on their uniforms -- under the sleeves, across their chests, round their crotches and down the cracks between their buttocks -- bore testimony to the incredible heat outside. Indeed, my entire shaved body was drenched in sweat... They entered, talking, smirking and looking over towards me, their eyes upon my nakedness, which, being handcuffed, I was unable to hide...

The inspector had a bunch of papers in his hand, which he threw down on the small table. He motioned for his two colleagues to bring me out of the cell. They unlocked the barred door, looking over in the direction of the bucket -- they smirked as they saw that its contents had been completely emptied... They pulled me roughly towards the seated inspector, to stand in front of the table...

"You will be taken to another prison, where you will wait until your case is heard by the magistrate. We take you there now! We have informed your embassy, and someone will be present when you are in court. You may speak to that person after you have been sentenced!..." Sentenced? But I had done nothing wrong except drive my car a bit too fast -- surely it would be simple a matter of a fine, and then I could be on my way? This word `sentenced' was very sinister...

"When will my case be heard?" I asked. The inspector merely shrugged his shoulders, and the other two smirked again.

The inspector got up from the table and turned towards the door, the trousers of his uniform sticking to his big, sweaty arse. He opened the door, and the other two cops gripped me firmly by my handcuffed arms and marched me towards it: naked as I was, they marched me out to the police car outside and unceremoniously threw me in the back seat. They got in and sat on either side of me, joined by the inspector in the front passenger seat (another cop was driving).

We drove off along a bumpy country road. After a time, the cop sitting on my left began idly to play with my shaved dick, looking out of the window at the same time. The driver looked towards me from time to time in his rear-view mirror. I was so tired I could not resist as the cop's hand brought my cock to a full erection. All I could do was sit there, embarrassed as hell, but unresisting. The cop on my right looked down at my stiff cock and said something to the others in his own language which I did not understand. The inspector looked round at me, then down at my cock, smiled and said something which made them all laugh. I'm sure I blushed, but I was too exhausted to care by now. It was outrageous that they should treat a foreign national, a prisoner, in this way. But handcuffed and naked, in the middle of nowhere, I was in no position to resist. At least the embassy knew about me, so all was not lost...

The stink of male sweat in the small car became overpowering as we bumped along rough roads, but it was a smell I was growing used to...

After what seemed an eternity, we arrived at the outskirts of a small, grim concrete building with a barbed wire fence around it: there were no other houses in the vicinity, hardly even a tree -- just rocks and more rocks. Clearly, this was a prison...

My heart began to beat faster -- God only knew what they would do to me here...

Our car drove up to the main gate, which was opened by a guard who looked inside briefly to check the occupants. Of course, I was sitting there naked between my two captors with my cock still stiff from their activities: I was embarrassed as hell and did not dare to look up at the guard, but he put a hand through the window and lifted my face to see who the new prisoner was. He looked me straight in the eye, then down at my cock, then back again and smirked.

The car drove into the compound, past what was obviously the exercise yard -- in which I was astonished to see about a hundred prisoners milling around, all naked and shaved as I was. When we arrived at the entrance, they all pressed up to the fence to see who the new prisoner was. I was hauled out of the car (my cock still had not gone down) and they all looked at me. In embarrassment at exposing my erection to them, I turned my back to them, realising too late that they would see the dark stripes on my buttocks from the caning the inspector had given me. Some of them whistled at me... I was marched inside -- at least it was a bit cooler in here, out of the baking sun. My papers were quickly processed and I was marched to the cells.

The inspector spoke: "The prisoners outside have already been sentenced. You will go to a cell for prisoners waiting for their cases to be heard..."

We approached that cell and an incredible sight beheld me: only bars separated us from them, and they were all naked and shaved as I was – but there were so many of them that there was no room to sit, much less lie down. Their sweaty bodies were pressed together, so that they had to lean on each other in order to rest. I was terrified as a guard unlocked to the door and the inspector pushed me in. I waited for him to unlock my handcuffs, but he did not...

In panic, I turned to face him and said "Please... release me, don't... leave me here in handcuffs..." There were tears in my eyes as I pleaded with him, but he just smiled.

He spoke: "You will be called tomorrow morning -- make sure you are here, at the door, or your case will be delayed..." And with that, he closed the door, which was then locked by the guard.

Suddenly, hands began grabbing me and pulling me back into the group of sweaty, naked prisoners. I continued to plead with the inspector with my eyes, but he gradually disappeared from view as the men closed round me. I was defenceless as their hands began feeling me, twisting my nipples painfully, hefting my cock and balls and sticking fingers up my hole.

Clearly, I was going to be raped by the whole bloody lot of them, and the prospect terrified me. With my hands behind me, locked in the handcuffs, I would not be able to defend myself, so all I could do was make the horrors that awaited me as painless as possible, by just taking what was coming to me without resisting...

I guessed there were about twenty of them -- sweaty, unwashed, naked and shaved as I was -- and hungry for fresh meat...

I was pushed to the floor on my back, on the only bit of space left in the crowded cell: one of them squatted down over my face, kneeling on either side of my shoulders and spreading his stinking arse over my mouth and nose to shut me up while he pulled up my legs to open my hole for the first invasion... A hard cock was brutally shoved into my defenceless shithole, but my scream was lost in the shitty hole that covered my mouth...

With my hands cuffed behind me painfully under my back, the rape continued, fast and brutally, my groans and screams lost in the filthy hole that covered my open mouth. Farts occasionally erupted from that hole, filling my mouth and nose with unbelievable stink. I wanted to throw up, but I had had nothing to eat all day, so nothing came up. The man who sat on my face laughed as he farted, as did some of the others standing around me... The cock in my hole shot its load, and was roughly pulled out, soon to be replaced by another, and another...

Suddenly, after the third ejaculation up my shithole, the face-sitter got up, pulled me to my feet, turned me round to face the horny, shaved prisoners around me for a brief moment, then bent me over, holding me by my handcuffed hands... He shoved his own cock into my hole then, pushing me backwards and forwards by my cuffed wrists. If he let go, I would crash to the floor, so I was totally dependent on his holding me firmly -- which he did, and I was at least thankful for that.

I lost count of the number of times I was raped, but I guess every single one of those stinking, sweaty prisoners shot his load up my hole or down my throat. There must have been thirty or forty of them... The horror lasted for hours, but eventually when everyone had fucked the shit out of me, they released their grip on me. I stood up painfully, shit and spunk oozing out of my hole down my legs... I looked them in the eye, but they just sniggered at me. The cell was so cramped, even standing up our bodies were pushed together. I could not lie or sit to rest, but someone held me as I was about to collapse from exhaustion and pain. I leaned back against his sweaty body, grateful for something to lean on...

I felt his cock harden between my battered buttocks, but was beyond caring now: I did not resist as it found its way into my spunky hole, even leaning back against him to make it easier for him to penetrate me... My legs were now so weak I could hardly stand up anyway, and I rested my head back on his shoulder. He toyed with my nipples painfully and I groaned, but just seemed to excite him more...

Eventually he ejaculated, but did not withdraw his cock from my hole, so I just stood there, leaning against him for support. Other bodies, sweaty and stinking, were pressed against us, since there was no room to sit or lie -- every prisoner just had to lean on everyone else for support.

With my head leaning back on my fucker's shoulder, I closed my eyes and dozed wearily, his cock still inside me...

It was inevitable: after a time, he needed a piss -- but working his way through the heaving mass of naked, sweaty prisoners was too much trouble, so he just let go up my shithole. I felt my guts filling with his hot piss, and inevitably it began to dribble out, down my legs, forming a puddle on the floor round our feet. But I, like him and the others, was past caring: we were pigs in a sty, I had grown used to the stink of their sweat, piss, farts and shitty arses, so what did a bit of piss matter? Leaning with the back of my head on his shoulder, I turned awkwardly to look at his face... He had a scar through his right eyebrow, and his nose had been broken -- clearly, he had come from a very violent background, where brutality was the everyday norm for him... He turned to look at me as the last of his piss was squirting into my hole -- and grabbing my face with his right hand (I was leaning on his left shoulder), he kissed me savagely on the lips, pushing his big fat tongue into my mouth and filling it. This one act of kindness (if you could call it that) seemed so strangely beautiful, I found I could not resist him, but sucked on his tongue and swallowed his saliva thirstily. I was ashamed of myself, but felt that since I would be released next day, it wouldn't matter -- he could possess me for the next few hours, and I would belong to him for the night...

Hours passed like this, with me dozing fitfully leaning against his massive body, till I awoke and saw the grey streaks of dawn filter through the small, high window of our cell...

I felt his cock harden inside me again -- but this time he did not fuck me, but pulled it out, turned me round and pushed me to my knees in front of him (rather difficult, given the cramped space there was to do this in). He pulled down my jaw and stuck his cock, now stinking of my shithole and his piss and the spunk of the others who had raped me, into my mouth. I knew what was expected of me, and sucked dutifully, licking down the shaft to his balls, which I also licked clean (they were sweaty and spunky). He lifted up his balls so I could get my tongue underneath them: he was very excited now, breathing heavily, and suddenly he turned round and pulled my face into his stinking crack. I tried to pull away, but another pair of hands held my head fast from behind me and pushed it into his sweaty, shitty hole. His hands were now free to grab my helpless nipples and pull on them hard, so that it would be difficult and painful for me to pull my face away from its stinking prison. A few more painful tugs on my nipples and I knew what he wanted: slowly, I pushed my tongue into his shit-chute, tasting the bitterness of his last crap (of course, the hole wasn't clean, since there were no luxuries like toilet paper in this hell-hole). I was no match for his heavy, muscular body (indeed, all the shaved and naked prisoners were of peasant stock, used to heavy work from childhood, so even if I had not been handcuffed I would have been no match for them if I had tried to resist their assaults). He had shown tenderness towards me by kissing me, so all I could do was return the compliment by pushing my tongue into his shithole. This was an act of tenderness on my part, which somehow I found fitting – he had taken possession of me, and I would belong to him for a night...

As I looked up over the mounds of his big buttocks, I could see that his back was scarred, and the scars were fairly fresh (not more than a week old, I estimated) -- clearly, he had been flogged recently (flogging was frequently given as a punishment in this country, since prison facilities were obviously very limited). As I licked his hole dutifully, almost lovingly, I wondered what he had done to deserve the flogging. In fact, I had seen the whipping-post in the middle of the exercise yard... I then began to wonder if that would be my sentence -- to be flogged and sent on my way...

My thoughts were interrupted by a big fart which filled my mouth and nose: the man behind me who held my head in its stinking prison laughed -- but did not release his grip. The man who had kissed me was now farting into my face, but I could do nothing but accept this degradation, and breathed in the foul stench of his bowels. I pushed my tongue once more into his hole to show my acceptance, and he let out a low growl of pleasure as I did so...

Suddenly, he released my tits, turned round, looked down at me and pulled me up to my feet. Grabbing my tits painfully once more, he pulled me to my tiptoes and kissed me again, filling my mouth once more with his big fat tongue, and once more I sucked on his tongue, swallowing the copious amounts of saliva that now dribbled into my mouth...

CHAPTER THREE

There were sounds of activity from the small office beyond the bars of our cell - clearly the police were getting ready for the day's work in court. I tried to turn and see what was going on, but he held my head fast, almost choking me with his tongue and saliva.

Eventually, names were being called, and several of the prisoners moved through the crowd to the bars. The door was unlocked, they went out, and presumably went to hear their cases tried. My name was not among those called out, and I was disappointed: surely my name would be called in the next group.

After an hour, the prisoners were marched out to the yard. At first I thought they had been released, but then I heard the sound through the window of a whip slashing naked flesh: each slash was accompanied by an agonised groan, quickly rising to a scream. After twenty lashes, there was silence (except for the laughs of the uniformed men who had carried out the punishment or had been watching it for their own amusement). The groaning prisoner was being led out of the prison (I found out later), and left, naked on the dusty road outside the gates (this humiliation being an extra punishment). Because he was naked and shaved and flogged, everyone would know he had been guilty of some crime or other.

The process was repeated with the three other prisoners who had been called. I began to be sick with fear - would this be my fate too?

My thoughts were interrupted when my 'possessor' turned me round, bent me over and, holding me by my handcuffed hands as before, shoved his big cock (now hard again) into my defenceless hole. Another man stood in front of me, dangling his smelly cock in front of my face. He stuck the cheesy thing in my mouth and began to piss. The hot, early-morning piss was foul and salty as it filled my mouth... I began to panic: what if my name was called, and I didn't answer? If I didn't go forward like the others, my case would be postponed... The thought of spending more time - God only knew how long – in this pigsty was more than I could bear. So, when I heard the names being called, I tried to pull away from the filthy cock pissing in my mouth (which was now beginning to harden). But a big hand held my head fast by the back of my neck as the swelling member began to fill my helpless mouth...

Sure enough, my name had been called! I tried to get up, but with one cock in my shithole and the other filling my mouth, the only thing I could do was emit some hardly human sounds to let them know I was here...

I opened my mouth as wide as I could to yell, but the hard cock inside it was simply rammed back to my throat, strangling my yell, and nearly making me throw up. I tried to pull my asshole off the cock that invaded it, but the cock just followed my hole, keeping it filled.... I heard the barred cell door being opened (I could not see it because of the naked prisoners' bodies crowding round me), then closing behind the new group of prisoners. This was horrible - if my case was not heard today, when would be the next time? The magistrate was a travelling one, visiting small villages and towns once every few months - I could be here for months, treated worse than an animal. I was so afraid, I began to piss myself as I was being buggered and headfucked, which just made my tormentors laugh.

Once more, I heard the office door open to let the new group of prisoners out: once more I heard the floggings, the groans and the cackling of the officers in the yard.

The only good thing in all this was that the cell was not considerably less crowded than it was, and I could see the office beyond the bars now, though with my mouth and hole filled, I could still not call my name. Finally, my two tormentors shot their loads into me, and my 'possessor' pulled me to my feet.

He pulled me back behind the remaining prisoners and held me to him firmly. I turned my head round to plead with him: "Please... let me go..." I had tears in my eyes, and I was not sure whether he understood me or not, but he could guess what I wanted... He turned me round to face him and, as he did so, I could see over my shoulder that the magistrate had entered the office from the room that served as the 'court', accompanied by the inspector, and was on the point of leaving. If I called out to the inspector, surely he would do something about it... I opened my mouth to yell, but my possessor clapped a big hand over my mouth, gagging me silent. I looked tearfully into his eyes, pleading with my own to let me go, but he just smiled... and tightened his grip on my mouth. I stood helplessly, hoping the inspector would see me, but I could not know if he did, since my back was towards the office, and in any case the other prisoners crowded round us, so that I could not be seen.

I heard the inspector bid the magistrate farewell, closing the door behind him. Then I heard footsteps approaching our cell... it was the inspector: my heart leapt as he barked some order which I did not understand. The other men moved aside and my possessor released his gagging hand and turned me round to face him. I walked slowly towards him as he spoke to me (I noticed he was carrying a cane): "Why you not come when your name called?"

How could I tell him I was being buggered and facefucked at the time?

"They - they wouldn't let me go... they..." I stuttered.

"Magistrate come back in one month..." he said, smiling. Sure he knew what happened, and he did nothing to help me.

"Please... get me out of here..." I pleaded.

"Not possible. You must stay here till next court!"

"But... PLEASE!" I begged, tears filling my eyes - but he just continued to smile...

"At least take my handcuffs off - please!"

He hefted the cane in his hand, slowly: "You not been caned yet?"

My heart sank as I realised he intended to punish me like all the prisoners

- a caning every morning!

"Answer me!" he barked.

"N-no," I answered.

He smiled as he snapped his fingers to one of the remaining twenty prisoners. The naked man came forward, his head bowed. Two guards unlocked the door, allowing him to walk through. They took him roughly by the arms and dragged him over to the desk in the middle of the room, bent him over it and held him down. The inspector smiled at me once more and walked over to the prisoner bent over the desk, his buttocks towards us. His cock and balls hung down between his legs, which the guards had spread by each placing a booted foot inside and pulling each leg apart. The inspector stood to the left of him and raised his powerful right arm. Before the cane descended, he looked at me and smiled...

Then the cane slashed down on to the man's quivering buttocks, leaving a thin red line on his helpless flesh (which was already crisscrossed with thin blue and black lines from his previous canings). A sharp intake of breath was all I heard: during the entire twenty strokes, he made no other sound - he was certainly tough!

The punishment over, the guards stood him up and marched him back to our cell. I looked at him admiringly as he entered, and he saw me look at him. He looked back at the inspector and said something which I did not understand: the inspector nodded approvingly. The prisoner came towards me, pushed me to my knees and made me kiss his beaten arse, pushing my face into his stinking crack. I was humiliated in front of the inspector and the other guards, and felt ashamed and embarrassed. But I could not help but admire the way this man had taken his punishment, and kissed the welts on his buttocks lovingly, then licking his foul shithole. The inspector watched me intently, and I felt even more embarrassed - but I did not care so much now: I deserved to show my subservience to this tough man...

Another name was called out - it was my 'possessor', and he went forward, held down over the desk as before, his legs spread and held apart by the booted guards.

The inspector must have known that this was the man who had prevented me from answering to my name, because he gave him double the number of strokes, causing spots of blood to rise from the welts. He groaned from the pain, and I felt sorry for him, in spite of everything he had done to me. After forty strokes, the inspector turned towards me...

"Come here!" The cell door was opened and I walked towards him, my heart pounding.

"You see? I give him extra punishment for what he do to you! I am good policeman! I shall give him more!" My possessor groaned, and I realised I could not bear to see him hurt any more, however much he had soiled and degraded me...

"N-no, it... is not necessary..."

"Of course it is necessary!..." and with those words the guards tightened their grip on him in anticipation, smiling...

"Please... I know I am nothing, a prisoner like the others... but I beg you..." and with these words I fell to my knees behind my possessor's beaten arse, kissing both buttocks, tasting the blood which had risen to the surface of the vicious welts the inspector had raised on his helpless buttocks... "... do not hurt him more..." - my voice trailed off to a whisper.

The inspector looked down at me angrily - clearly I was interfering with his authority here: "Then I will give them to you instead!"

My blood froze: I would get the customary twenty strokes PLUS whatever extra he was going to give my possessor... I looked into the inspector's eyes for some flicker of humanity, but his look was cold, and all I could do was look down at the floor.

The guards released him to escort him back to the cell: for a moment, he looked down at me and was about to say something, but the guards hustled him away. I heard the door being locked again, then their footsteps behind me as they approached me. They picked me up by my arms (my hands were still cuffed), bent me over the table, spread my legs so that my cock and balls hung down for all to see. Since I was already handcuffed, it was not necessary for them to hold me down, so one of them went round in front of me and gripped my head, hanging over the table, between his thighs and pulled up my arms against their sockets. The inspector began...

The cane whistled down, slashing across my buttocks as it had done the previous day, and I suppressed a scream. The pain was worse than yesterday - clearly the inspector was very angry with me for daring to interrupt the proceedings, and now he was going to make me pay for it.

Again and again the cane slashed across my quivering buttocks, till tears filled my eyes and I was crying like a baby. After twenty strokes, he stopped for a breather. I continued to cry softly, with my face trapped between the uniformed thighs of the guard who continued to hold my arms up and back. I heard the inspector lighting a cigarette and smelled the smoke - it smelled good! He ran a hand idly over my arse, running a finger down my crack into my sticky hole. Then he fondled my exposed cock and balls till my cock - against my will - began to harden. Then I heard and felt him fiddling with his fly buttons, pulling out his cock - now hard from his enjoyment of my punishment and feeling my helpless arse and cock - and then pushing it unceremoniously into my open hole. He fucked me slowly, in front of the guards and the other prisoners, still smoking on his cigarette. He finished his cigarette, then gripped my hips with both hands and began to pump in and out faster and furiously, till he shot his load into me. He pulled out roughly, walked round in front of me, pushing the other guard away, pulled open my mouth and stuck the slimy, shitty thing into it...

"Now you clean me!" I obediently sucked on the foul, stinking cock which had just been up my shithole, covered in spunk and shit. I thought I would throw up, but managed to keep control of my guts. He pulled his cock out, inspected it, then lifted it up and pushed his sweaty balls to my mouth for further cleaning. I could do nothing but lick obediently till he was satisfied, hoping he would be less severe in the last part of my punishment - but to no avail. He moved away, put his cock and balls back in his trousers, snapping his fingers to the guard to return and pinion me as before. I heard him walk behind me, and without warning he began slashing at my backside even more viciously than before...

This time I screamed and howled as I was given another twenty strokes: I was not as brave as the two men who had preceded me. At last the caning stopped, the guard who had imprisoned my head between his thighs released me, and I lay for a few moments prostrate over the table to get my breath back. The inspector pulled me to my feet and turned me round to face him...

"Magistrate come back in one month - You will be punished every morning like other prisoners..."

I looked at him, the tears pouring down my face: "Yes Sir! But - I beg you... please take off the handcuffs..."

But the inspector grew angry again: he slapped my face hard, right and left, shouting at me: "THEY COME OFF WHEN I DECIDE - NOT YOU!!!" then he nodded to the guards to take me back to the cell. I was pushed inside among the other naked prisoners once more, while another was taken out for his caning.

I felt an arm around my shoulder - it was my possessor, and he spoke to me for the first time: "Me - Karl. You?" I looked up at him (he was much bigger than me), surprised:

"Mike," I said through my tears.

"Mike, you good boy. Now you MY boy - yes?"

I blubbed like a baby now, overcome by his kindness, resting my face on his naked chest... I nodded my assent, unable to speak. He put his hand under my chin, raising my face to look at him. Through the sounds of the caning going on just a few feet away, I heard him repeat: "You MY boy - yes?"

I looked him in the eye and whispered: "Yes, I am your boy..."

I had certainly suffered for him and his recognition of this fact filled me with a kind of warmth. He pulled me further back into the cell, behind the other naked prisoners waiting for their caning. He held my face in his hands and kissed me on the lips, once more filling my mouth with his fat tongue.

Handcuffed and naked as I was, I could not resist him any more: I sucked on the tongue of this man who had been punished for preventing me answering when my name was called, this man who had fucked me, pissed in me, made me lick his shithole and who now wanted to possess me totally. I had been punished for his sake too, and this established a very special bond between us - a savage bond, the uniting of two men in pain and degradation. My cock hardened as he continued to kiss me, twisting and pinching my defenceless nipples as he did so. It shocked me to realise he had enjoyed seeing me punished, and relished the thought that I was still handcuffed and defenceless, to be HIS boy... But I did not care - at least he had shown me affection, and would look after me...

CHAPTER FOUR

Once all the prisoners had been caned, food and water were brought to the cell: bread, some cold meat and pickled cabbage. The water was in a large urn, the food in large aluminium trays. Each prisoner helped himself, eating with his hands and drinking out of the couple of tin cups left there for their use. I was still handcuffed and could neither eat nor drink. Karl paid no attention to me as he helped himself to the food with the others. When they had all finished, the inspector issued some instructions to the guards: they came into the cell, tipped out the scraps from the large tray into the bucket which served as a toilet for the men, which the guards then pissed into... The inspector spoke to me:

"Now you eat!"

I was horrified. Handcuffed, I would have to kneel down and fish out the half-chewed scraps from the stinking piss in the shit-bucket. I could not, I just could NOT... But Karl knew the inspector, and what he could do if he was not obeyed, so he pushed me towards the bucket on the floor, and pushed me to my knees and - firmly but gently - pushed my face down into the stinking mess. He held my mouth and nose down below the surface of the frothy piss, so that I had to drink fast if I were not to choke.

Eventually, with most of the piss drunk, I could breathe again, and noticed to my horror that there were bits of the prisoners' shit still in the bucket, now mixed with the half-chewed scraps of food they had discarded. Karl still held my head firmly down in the mess...

"EAT!" the inspector barked.

I felt sick and tried to lift my head up out of the bucket, but Karl just pushed it back in, so that my face was now surrounded by bits of shit and 'food'. Slowly, I opened my mouth, tasting the foul shitty mess that was to be my breakfast. I chewed and swallowed, feeling my stomach churning. Handcuffed, naked, shaved and beaten, I was in no position to resist, so I got on with it as fast as possible.

Eventually, when I had consumed the entire filthy mess, Karl released his grip and pulled my head out of the toilet bucket, but left me kneeling in front of it. The inspector just looked at me coldly and smiled...

"Now you learn how to be good prisoner! You dirty western pig! When magistrate come next month, you will be VERY good boy!"

"Please... Inspector... take off my handcuffs..." I stuttered once more.

"I tell you before, maybe tomorrow. But now you ask me again, it will be one more day! DO NOT ASK ME AGAIN, PIG!"

The inspector turned round and went out of the door, followed by the guards. Karl turned me round to face him:

"Now you learn be good prisoner! You be good to all other prisoners, and we be good to you! If not..." and with this, he suddenly pinched my defenceless nipples, twisting them and pulling them painfully upwards till I had to stand on tiptoe... "if not, we TEACH you!". I knew what that meant...

The cell was now less crowded, since ten of the prisoners had been released after being flogged, so there was a little more room. Some of the men sat on the large bucket and took a shit, farting loudly to the amusement of the others. Karl was idly toying with my painful nipples. There was no toilet paper of course, so after shitting the men just got up again and walked towards us. One of them grabbed me by the neck, pulling me away from Karl, and pushed me to my knees. He turned round and pulled my face into the crack of his arse, which now stank of his recent shit. Shit still stuck to his hole and he clearly wanted it cleaning up - handcuffed and defenceless, Karl stood behind me, pushing my face firmly into to the large backside in front of me, making sure my tongue did its duty...

By now I had grown used to the smell, the stink of these men. While I was in this hell-hole, they were my family. The smell of their unwashed feet, cocks, armpits and arses would be my constant reminder that I was now nothing more than a dirty stinking prisoner like them, that my tongue, mouth and arsehole would be used again and again for their pleasure. Karl had claimed me as "his boy", but he enjoyed seeing me degraded and punished, so I could not expect any mercy from him. In a strange way, this domination over me, the exercise of authority - however perverse and brutal - over me seemed so... right, somehow. I had been a fucking little bastard as a child, a total pain in the arse to my family and friends, and now I was getting the discipline I should have had a long time ago! I was going to learn respect for these tough, brutal men whether I liked it or not....

I was disturbed from my thoughts when the man whose hole I was cleaning suddenly pulled away, turned round and stuffed his half-hard, cheesy cock in my mouth. My head was still being held fast by Karl, and the other man just jerked his cock into my mouth till he came, spewing his sticky spunk into my mouth. His cock was so big and pushed in so far I nearly choked. When he had finished, he pulled the filthy thing out and I swallowed his spunk, grateful that I could breathe normally once more. Karl had been so excited by this that he roughly pulled me to my feet, rammed me up against the bars with my back to him and fucked my hole savagely. He pounded his cock in and out of me, banging me against the bars while the other prisoners laughed, egging him on to give it to me good and hard.

I did not know how much more of this filth and degradation I could endure - I thought that Karl would be my friend, after all, I had taken twenty extra strokes of the cane for him. But he just continued to bang his cock into me, battering my beaten buttocks mercilessly as he did so. With my face pushed up against the bars, he did not see my tears of pain and rage against what was being done to me.

One of the guards came back in and, seeing me being buggered, sauntered over towards our cell. Karl did not stop - after all, this was a 'normal' activity in this hell-hole. He stood in front of me, on the other side of the bars, looking into my tear-filled eyes. Then he just grabbed my nipples through the bars, pulling them through the bars and twisting them agonisingly. I was blubbing like a baby now, helpless to defend my naked body against their assaults....

Seeing the guard attacking my tits just seemed to excite Karl even more, and he buggered my defenceless rump even more furiously than before. I cried out in pain and humiliation, but the guard just smiled at me. As I looked down I could see his cock was stiffening in his uniform trousers... I knew that it would not be long before the filthy thing would be shoved into my mouth or my shithole - my degradation would not be over when Karl had finished with me...

Karl, with one last furious shove, shot his load into me, waited a few seconds, then pulled his weapon out roughly.... He whirled me round, pushed me to my knees and stuck his stinking, shit-streaked cock into my mouth for cleaning, holding my shaved head firmly between his two big hands. I did my by now customary duty, licking his balls clean too. I had to admit he knew how to master me, because I did not feel much urge to resist him - in fact, I was horrified to see that my own cock was stiffening...

He saw it too, and just laughed... then he turned round, pulled my face into the crack of his arse and let go a huge fart. The other prisoners and the guard laughed as they saw that my semi-erection was not going down...

It was then that I realised what my true degradation was: this filthy treatment of me by the prisoners and the guards actually made my cock hard, in spite of myself. It was then that I realised that the punishment and unspeakable degradation, which were to be my lot for at least the next months, were provoking me to an erection! I was now a filthy, stinking animal, just like them - and I could not hide my stiff cock from their eyes. I was exposed, naked and handcuffed, and my cock revealed the truth of what I had become: nothing more than a piece of shit, to be used, soiled, beaten and humiliated in front of brutal, violent men. This fact horrified me as I inhaled the stink from Karl's arsehole... and kissed it lovingly, pushing my tongue into his filthy hole. He gave a satisfied grunt as he pulled my face even more tightly into his crack so that my tongue could do its duty more efficiently...

It was the end of my innocence (if you could call it that): now began my journey into the depths of depravity. These two days of horror and filth had turned me into what I now am - a low-down, stinking slave.

CHAPTER FIVE

The magistrate eventually returned after a month and my case was heard: my name was called out in the usual way, and this time the other prisoners, headed by Karl, released me so that I could go forward and answer to my name.

One of the guards came to the door of the cell, unlocked it, and I stepped out. I was pushed forward towards the door of the "courtroom" and ushered in. The guard withdrew, leaving me standing in front of the Magistrate's desk as he sat perusing my papers. I was alone with him and, of course, completely naked and still handcuffed. There must have been the odd streak of shit on my face, and I certainly stank. I had been fucked only a few minutes before, and spunk was leaking out of my hole and dripping down the inside of my thighs. I was desperately embarrassed, and looked down at the floor uncomfortably, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. Finally, the Magistrate looked up - a man in his forties I guessed, with short-cropped hair and steel-grey eyes - he looked my naked, shaved and abused body slowly up and down...

"You are British?" he asked...

"Yes Sir," I replied politely.

"The laws in our country are very strict," he continued in almost perfect English, "and you have broken one of them... You were driving too fast... but I see you did not have any drugs on you - this is fortunate, because if you did have drugs on you, your sentence would be very severe indeed...."

The Examining Magistrate stood up and walked round his desk towards me... He spoke quietly, taking out a cigarette and lighting it:

"I like your country," he said nonchalantly, "I studied at university there for three years..." He was now standing next to me, to me left. He put his hand on one of my beaten buttocks, examining my rear end as he did so:

"I see you have been punished in the usual way..." he said, as he ran his hand over the welts on my caned backside...

"Yes Sir," I replied, embarrassed...

"We do not treat you any differently from the others," he continued, exhaling cigarette smoke in my face, which I was grateful to breathe in, not having had a cigarette for weeks now...

Suddenly, I felt his fingers exploring the crack between my buttocks, one of them pushing its way into my spunky hole...

"And," he said in a low voice, "I see you have been made to show respect for our men..."

Blushing with shame, I could only stutter: "Y-yes Sir..."

"This is only right and proper, young men like you should always show respect for our men, even if they are only prisoners... They have no women, so..."

"Yes Sir," I continued, my voice almost a whisper. He continued to finger my hole obscenely as he spoke:

"The maximum sentence I can impose on you is life... or even death..." – at these words I froze: life? Never to be released from this hell-hole? Executed? I felt doomed... I turned my head to face him as he stood, fingering my hole and squeezing my beaten buttocks painfully...

"But... Sir, I..." Blowing more smoke in my face, he spoke softly...

I fell to my knees, deciding to plead with him, hoping to move him to pity.

"Please, let me go, I did not mean to..." He looked down at me, smiling - clearly my gesture of humility had pleased him. My life was in his hands... I could see from the bulge in his trousers, now directly in front of my face, that he was excited by this little scenario....

"But I will be lenient to you: I will release you - of course, you will have to be flogged first, but then you will be set free. You must leave this country immediately, or you will be arrested again, and then your sentence will be life... You will also write an account of your experiences in jail for the Authorities... You will spare no details, you must describe everything, including your feelings..."

(I have done as I was ordered, which is why this journal was written.)

The Magistrate returned to his desk and called the guard. I was sentenced to the usual flogging, of course. The guard pulled me out of the room and, assisted by another guard, took me out into the yard, released my handcuffs and secured me to the whipping post with my hands tied above my head. A belt was tied tightly around my waist, which pushed my arse out and rendered me completely immobile. There was some discussion about who would administer the punishment, and the whipping began - just as the magistrate was getting into his car to leave. He smiled at me as the first lash cracked across my back, which drew an agonising scream from my throat, then he closed the door of his car and drove off, leaving me to the tender mercies of the guards.

After the daily canings, being tied to the whipping post and feeling the lash of the whip on my back, buttocks and thighs was not so intolerable as I had thought. The first strokes were excruciating, and I screamed as the other prisoners had done - but after the first ten strokes, the pain grew more acceptable. I was given fifty strokes altogether, and at the end of punishment, administered in front of the other guards out in the exercise yard, my back, buttocks and thighs were on fire, especially after they threw a bucket of salt water over me to wash the cuts.

I accepted the punishment - not for the simple offence itself, for which this punishment was out of all proportion, but for becoming the animal that I now am...

After I was released from the whipping post, I was escorted to the prison gates and pushed outside. They gave me back my passport and the keys to my car, which was parked some distance away, by the side of the hot, dusty road. The gates banged shut behind me. I was still naked, of course, and a couple of passing peasant boys (I guess they were about fifteen years old) laughed at me, jeering at my shaved cock (and the rest of my body).

I walked slowly, painfully, towards my car. It had been parked there for a month: it was covered in dust and a couple of the windows had been smashed. Everything had been taken from inside, including my little bag of clothes. The guards had kept my wallet with the only money I had, and my credit cards.

So here I was, naked, my back, buttocks and thighs striped from the flogging, shaved from head to foot, with no means of buying any clothes or petrol to get me out of this place. Yet the thought of returning to normality, back to London to my job and the life I had known before this nightmare began seemed so ordinary, so uninviting, so useless, that I slowly turned round, looking back to the prison, and began to walk towards it... to the continuing taunts of the peasant boys, who surrounded me, smacking my beaten rump, even taking a stick to me, hitting my buttocks and legs – but the pain was nothing compared to what I had just endured.

I sat down on my haunches beside the gates to wait for the inspector to come out. I waited several hours in the hot sun until finally I heard the key turning in the lock: my heart began to beat faster as I waited to see who would come out, hoping it would be the inspector. Three guards came out, saw me there and laughed at me. I knew enough of their language by now to know that they said something like: "What? Not had enough? Go home, filthy foreigner!" But I just looked submissively down at their booted feet and said nothing. By way of encouragement, one of them got his cock out and urinated all over me - but I did not move. I knew I deserved to be punished, just for being such a disgusting animal...

They went away, laughing and sniggering, leaving me dripping in piss. The sun was going down now, and I began to wonder if the inspector would come out at all - maybe he would stay there for the night.

Then I heard the gate being unlocked again, and I was happy (strangely) to see the inspector... He looked down at me and asked me why I had not left. I answered by kneeling in front him, handing him my passport and car keys, and kissing his boots, then moving behind him on my knees and kissing his big arse, bulging out in his tight uniform. I had surrendered myself entirely and without reservation to him. He was the man who had started the whole thing, and I felt strangely grateful to him.

He turned round slowly, looking down at me as I looked him in the eye, took out a cigarette and lit it, looking at me all the while. My heart was pounding, but I said nothing, continuing to kneel in front of him. When he had finished his cigarette, he reached for his handcuffs, attached to his belt, and, without a word, motioned for me to stand up and turn round: he snapped them shut over my wrists behind my back, clapped a big hand round the back of my neck and marched me down the road towards his car. He unlocked the boot and pushed me into it. It was rather small, so I had to curl up in foetal position - not very easy with my hands cuffed behind me - then be banged the lid down and I was left in darkness. I heard him get in the car, start it up, and drive off along the bumpy road. After about twenty minutes, we stopped and I heard him get out. He came round and opened the boot again. As he helped me out, I could see we were in the middle of a forest, just outside a large, rambling house which had fallen into disrepair. Obviously, it had belonged to one of the former aristocrats who had fled when the communists took over. I presumed it was his home.

He walked up the steps, pushing me in front of him. Then he unlocked the front door, which creaked open, and pushed me inside....

CHAPTER SIX

The stone floor was cold to my bare feet as I stepped inside the gloomy hallway. The inspector again clapped a big hand round my neck and marched me firmly towards a door at the back of the hall, under the staircase. He unlocked it, and I saw a wooden stairway leading down to the cellar. My heart was in my mouth - what had I let myself in for? I had been officially discharged from the prison, so no-one would know where I was. I was the prisoner of a sadistic police officer, held captive in the depths of an enormous forest. If he murdered me, there would be no evidence - he could do what he wanted to me - yet I knew that this was what I needed, what I deserved...

When I got to the bottom of the stairs, followed by my captor and master, he pushed me towards a pillar in the middle of the cellar after switching on the naked light bulb that provided the only light. He placed an iron collar round my neck, locked it with a padlock and chained me to the iron ring set in the stone pillar. He stood back a moment, looking at my naked, abused body up and down, then did something that surprised me: he took my face in his big hands, looked me in the eye and kissed me passionately, savagely on the lips, pushing his tongue into my mouth so far it nearly choked me. Then he attacked my nipples, pulling, twisting and pinching them viciously till I groaned - though my cries were stifled by the fat tongue which kept probing my mouth. I was still handcuffed, of course, so I had no way to defend my poor nipples. But it made no difference - my cock began to harden, in spite of the pain in my chest, and the inspector knew that I needed this treatment. He reached down, grabbed my balls in his big right hand, and squeezed them hard, pulling them down sharply. My scream was stifled by his tongue as it continued to fill my mouth, dribbling his saliva into it. I nearly passed out with the pain, but was helpless to defend myself as he continued to squeeze and mash my balls...

Then he stood back from me, looking my shaved and naked body up and down, his eyes glittering. He smiled nonchalantly as I stood panting, my cock half hard, my neck collared and chained to the pillar and my hands cuffed behind me...

"I never let you go now... you my property!" he said in a low voice, thick with lust.

I knew now that I would never return to my old life, that as far as the rest of the world was concerned, I had simply 'disappeared'. I knew that he could kill me if he wanted to, and nobody would be any the wiser. I knew he would abuse me, and pain and degradation would be my lot from now on - but perhaps I deserved this, needed this: I would just be his object, to gratify his perverted desires. I had surrendered myself to him, a man who enjoyed inflicting pain and humiliation on the prisoners in his custody, and I was just another of his prisoners...

He released the chain from the pillar and pushed me to my knees, securing the chain once more to the pillar. He calmly got out his cock and pissed all over me, concentrating on my face, pulling open my jaw and urinating in my mouth.... I drank it down thirstily. Then he calmly pulled his uniform trousers over his big buttocks, turned round, pushed his stinking arse in my face and farted two or three times. With the back of my head pushed up against the pillar behind me, I could not escape the stink that erupted from his guts. He gave a satisfied grunt, but did not move... I was trapped there, his big buttocks on either side of my face. Obviously his hole wanted licking, so I did my duty, pushing my tongue up his shit chute, which opened up to receive it. The tip of my tongue met a turd, which was obviously on its way down: clearly this was the reason he remained in this position – he needed a crap, and I was going to be his toilet....

Another fart pushed its way out into my mouth, and the turd slowly slid down into my open mouth. I had grown used to the taste and smell of men's arses and their farts and shit while I was a prisoner, so I did not feel the need to vomit this time. In fact, I wanted to show him how much I thought I deserved this treatment, how much respect I had for him, so as the lump of shit pushed its way into my mouth I immediately started chewing on it and swallowing it, so that the other shit which would surely follow it would not be wasted...

His shit certainly stank like a man's shit should, and I was grateful to him for using me as his toilet as I looked up at the big arse spread over my face. This was the man who had caned my own arse every single day for a month, the man who had left me handcuffed, naked and helpless among a group of violent prisoners, and because of whom I had been sentenced to a flogging - and now here I was, eating his hot shit straight out of his shithole - gratefully! Could there be any further depths to which I would sink?...

After the third turd, there was no more, so I licked his hole as clean as I could, though my tongue was too shitty to do a really good job of it. With his hole still rather shitty, he moved away from me, pulled up his uniform trousers, looking down at my shit-stained face, smiling. He calmly took my face in one of his big hands, pulled down my jaw and slowly dropped a gob of spit into my open mouth and closed it again... I swallowed it gratefully.

Then he took a pair of his filthy underpants which had been lying on the floor, stained yellow and brown with his piss and shit, stuffed them into my mouth, secured them there with a cord wrapped several times round my neck and mouth, and left me, going up the stairs, turning off the light. I was left in the dark, gagged, collared, handcuffed and naked on the cellar floor. I had no idea how long he would leave me there - it could be hours or even days. I began to panic, but there was nothing I could do about it, except wait for him to come back and abuse me again. My back, buttocks and legs still stung from the flogging I had received earlier that day, my stomach was full of his shit, and the smell and taste of his arse was still in my nose and mouth - but I felt strangely contented, because this was a man who knew how to treat a worthless piece of shit like me. My life was literally in his hands, and if he left me to die here, or actually killed me, it would not matter: I had given myself to him, and if that is the way he wished to dispose of me, then so be it...

Some hours later, I heard him return. It must have been late in the evening, but of course I had no idea what the actual time was. He turned on the light at the top of the stairs and came down. He was carrying something in his right hand. As he approached, I could see it was a branding iron - the same one that was used in this country for escaped prisoners once they had been caught and returned to jail. Their sentence was automatically doubled and they were branded, as a discouragement to other prisoners if they got any ideas about trying to escape. My heart was pounding - I knew what he wanted to do, but gagged, handcuffed and naked, there was nothing I could do except watch him light the small stove at the other end of the cellar, feeding it with chopped logs and getting it really hot. When the fire was roaring, he stuck the branding iron in the fire and walked nonchalantly over towards me:

"Now I make you like escaped prisoner - if you try to escape, when they find you they will return you to me. You understand?"

All I could do was make some muffled sounds through my gag, which approximated to "No, no, no! Please don't do this to me! I beg you no!!!" But he just smiled as he watched me beg through my gag... He pulled me to my feet by the chain and collar round my neck, released the chain from the pillar and dragged me over to the table in the middle of the cellar. He roughly bent me over it, pulling the chain attached to my collar down under the table and round each of my ankles, securing them with a padlock to the nearest legs of the table (it was a very long chain). I knew what was coming, but in this position I was helpless. I groaned through my gag, but he calmly went over to the stove and pulled out the branding iron, which was now white-hot, and walked towards me again, making sure I could see it. He walked behind me and, without warning, pressed it to my right buttock and held it there for a full ten seconds. I screamed through my gag as the pain exploded in my brain and the smell of burning flesh assailed my nostrils...

After those agonising ten seconds, he took the iron off my arse and walked back to the stove, once more plunging it into the flames. He came back to me and stroked my head to comfort me as I cried like a baby through my gag. After a few minutes, he went back to the stove, took out the white-hot iron and returned, standing behind me and pressing it mercilessly to my left buttock. Again I screamed helplessly and this time I nearly fainted – but because my head was hanging down over the table, I did not completely pass out since the blood did not drain from my head. I was fully aware of every agonising second. There was a stench of burnt flesh in the cellar as he removed the iron from my arse and threw it on the floor.

Without warning, he took out his cock, which was now hard as a rock, and pulled open my buttocks, spitting on my hole. He shoved his stinking cock into my defenceless hole and fucked me brutally, banging his hips into my branded buttocks. The pain was excruciating... Now I knew this brute really possessed me - I was now not only his property, but the property of the State. If I tried to escape, I would be caught and once they saw my branded arse, they would throw me back in jail and throw the key away...

He continued to fuck me hard and brutally, banging into my branded buttocks and making me groan and cry out with pain through my gag. Finally, his huge fat cock erupted, spewing his spunk into my guts. His breathing was heavy as he lay for a few moments over my back on top of me. Then he again surprised me by kissing me on the back of my shaved head and my neck. I melted as I felt him possess me, kissing me with his cock still twitching in my shitchute. Still gagged, I could not tell him I loved him, which I wanted desperately to do. When he finally pulled his cock out of my hole and released me from the table (though not unlocking the handcuffs), he turned me round, pulled the gag from my mouth and stuck his shit and spunk-streaked cock into it for cleaning as usual. Then he pissed, and I swallowed it all down gratefully.

Then he pulled me to my feet, dragged me over to a pile of filthy, piss and sweat-soaked rags that passed for a bed in the corner, locking the chain attached to my collar to a ring in the wall. I lay down, still handcuffed, looking up at his towering body in its filthy uniform, and found the words "thank you Sir" escaping softly from my lips. He smiled slightly – and placed the sole of one of his booted feet on my face, reminding me of my position... As he pressed it down harder on my cheek, I felt finally contented - that here was a man who knew how to treat me: like a worthless piece of shit. My buttocks still throbbed agonisingly from the branding, but, still with his boot pressing on my cheek, I felt him rub some sort of cream into my burnt buttocks, which relieved the pain a bit. I felt his spunk leaking out of my hole, but was not ashamed - this was how he wanted me: filthy, punished, little more than an animal. It made his cock hard to see me so degraded - and my own cock was now hard. He removed his boot from my face after rubbing the cream into my wounds, looked down at my stiff shaved cock - then put his boot on my defenceless cock and balls and pressed down on them hard. Again the pain exploded in my brain - but this time from my balls. As his right boot ground into my bollocks I cried out, but he did not stop: I could not shrink from his boot, as I was lying on the pile of filthy rags, soaked with his piss and bits of shit from his arse, no doubted deposited on some of his previous victims. Tears came to my eyes and I cried like a baby now - but still I found myself leaning over to the side to kiss his other booted foot....

Suddenly, he withdrew his boot from my balls, squatted down over my face and farted through his uniform trousers into my mouth and nose. His boots were on either side of my face as the stink of his guts erupted into my defenceless face. Then, still sitting on my face, he smacked me hard on my balls with the flat of his hands, making me cry out into his big arse. Again and again he battered my bollocks, which I was powerless to defend, still being handcuffed. Then he got up off me, looking down at me as I sobbed like a small child.

"Now you good boy! I teach you always be good boy!"

"Yes Sir!" I blurted out... "I want to be your good boy!"

He slowly lit a cigarette, smirking at me - then he spoke:

"Tomorrow you go back to prison. I speak with judge - he will give you sentence for life. You stay here till you die. You will receive one visit from British embassy. After that, prisoners of this category have no rights - you understand?..."

My heart was pounding: I did not know what to say. I was shocked. My imprisonment would be legally sanctioned, and there would be nothing the embassy could do. I would be left to rot in this hell-hole of a country. My experience of life in prison had taught me that life prisoners were treated worse than shit. They were often flogged arbitrarily, just for the amusement of the guards. As for rape and other disgustingly degrading activities - well, that was par for the course. Lifers could be executed summarily for trying to escape... Being a "good boy" was one thing, but this was something else...

"I - I don't think I want to go that far..." I started to say, haltingly: but he just smiled...

"You gave yourself to me... You want to be my good boy. Now you have no choice - you be my good boy for ever..."

His black eyes looked at me intensely... I looked down to his crotch and saw that his cock was stiffening again, straining against his uniform trousers. I knew this would mean years of unspeakable degradation - but, against my own will, I found myself painfully getting to my knees and kissing the bulge in his trousers. Then he must have known that I no longer possessed any will to resist him: he placed a big hand on my shaven head and pushed it into his bulging crotch, continuing to smoke his cigarette. Then he pulled my head back, bent down and blew smoke into my open mouth while he kissed me. At that moment, I knew I loved him, the man who had taken over my life, possessing me in every possible way. I wished he would unlock my handcuffs, so that I could fling my arms round his thick legs - but that pleasure was denied me. I could only submit and accept whatever he did to me.

Suddenly, he pushed me back down on to the filthy 'bed', threw a blanket over me, stinking of dried piss and streaked with shit, turned, went up the wooden stairs, switched off the naked lightbulb and locked the door behind him. I could just hear the sound of his car as he started it up and drove away, leaving me alone in the dark: my balls ached, my back throbbed from the flogging and my buttocks still burned from the branding - but I knew I deserved no better, this would be my life from now on...

CHAPTER SEVEN

I awoke to the sound of voices upstairs: one of them I recognised as my captor (I still did not know the inspector's name - the other prisoners had always referred to him simply as "The Inspector"), but the others were strange to me. The cellar door opened, the light was switched on and four men came down the stairs, three policemen and the Inspector. They walked purposefully towards me, pulled off my stinking blanket and looked down at my naked, abused body, commenting to each other as they turned me over to look at the marks on my back from the flogging and the brands on my buttocks. They pulled them open to look at my arsehole, sniggering to each other.

My mouth was dry and I was dying for a drink: I looked at the inspector and asked him softly for water. He smiled at me, and said something to the three policemen which I only understood when they took out their cocks, pulling me to my knees and stuffing them one after the other into my mouth, letting go a hot stream of stinking piss, which I felt strangely grateful for, drinking it all down thirstily. One of them, after discharging what seemed litres of piss into my waiting mouth, turned round, pulled the top of his trousers over his fat rump and farted into my face several times, holding my head firmly in place...

"Now - you still thirsty?" the inspector asked... With piss dripping from the corners of my mouth, I shook my head. One of the men then pulled me to my feet by my tits and pushed me towards the stairs. I walked up them, with the men following closely behind. I heard them admiring my rump - I knew enough of their language now to understand roughly what they were saying.

Once we emerged from the cellar, I could see it was daylight, but still had no idea of the time. I was quickly marched to the waiting car and bundled into the back seat, with one policeman on either side of me. I could see from the watch of one of them that it was ten past six in the morning. The inspector sat in the front passenger seat and the third policeman drove off at high speed along the bumpy track that led out of the forest to the road. Gradually, I recognised the landscape - we were going back to the prison!

The grim building slowly came into view, and we approached the main gates. Seeing the car, the guards opened the gates and we drove through. It was now seven in the morning. As we entered the main building with its one prison cell, I could see the guards were going about their daily task of caning the prisoners, one of whom was held down over the desk, having his buttocks thrashed mercilessly.

I looked towards the cell - only a few of my former cellmates were left, including Karl: the others had presumably been flogged and released.

The inspector signed me in, and I was thrown into the cell as before, still in handcuffs.

The inspector and the other three went out, leaving me to the tender mercies of the other naked, shaved prisoners. Karl immediately came towards me, embraced me and kissed me - he did not know that I was still here, thinking I had left the country.

"Why you come back? This very bad for you now..." he said. I could not answer, merely resting my head on his big chest... but he insisted: "Why? Now you never go home!" All I could do was fall to my knees and kiss his sweaty, pissy, stinking cock and balls. Then he knew the answer: this was where I belonged, this was my place - I did not WANT to go home. He pulled me to my feet once more, taking my face in his big hands and kissing me savagely on the mouth...

Suddenly, the inspector came in with the magistrate and the other three policemen, though they paid no attention to me. They went into the small adjoining room that served as a 'court' and closed the door behind them. A few minutes later, two of the guards came out, walked briskly to our barred cell, unlocked it, and hauled me away from Karl's embrace, marching me towards the courtroom. The magistrate was sitting at a desk, and I was stood in front of him. Even after all this time, I was still embarrassed at being naked in front of the uniformed men and the magistrate in his suit. He read something out quickly and asked me if I had anything to say. I remained silent. Then he simply signed a paper, gave it to the inspector and banged his hammer on the desk to indicate that the "trial" was over.

The magistrate, a handsome man in his late forties with very short greying hair and beard, stood up and came towards me, speaking in near-perfect English:

"You are a brave but foolish young man. The inspector told me you accepted this sentence - it is for life: if you try to escape, you will be executed. You will have no rights of any kind - life imprisonment here means exactly that! Your life is no longer your own, it is worth less than nothing. You may be flogged, abused and degraded in any way your guards wish, and you will have no appeal. I will inform the British embassy, who will be allowed one visit. After that, you will sign a paper asking to become a national of this country, and you will no longer be British, so the embassy will not be troubled by you again. Is that clear?" I nodded.

Then the magistrate said something to the guards, who dragged me over to his desk and held me down, kicking my legs apart. I heard the magistrate move in behind me, fiddling with his trousers. I heard him spitting, then felt his stiff cock being shoved brutally into my hole. I was being fucked by the magistrate, without a word being said, as if to reinforce his point that from now on I was less than nothing, just a piece of meat to be consumed and used in any way my captors saw fit.

After he had shot his load into my guts, I was roughly pulled to my feet, turned round and pushed to my knees. The magistrate stuck his sizeable cock, stinking of my arse and still dripping sperm, into my mouth for cleaning. Once he was satisfied that I had done a reasonable job, he put his member back into his trousers without saying a word and walked out.

The guards looked down at me, sniggering, and pulled me once more to my feet and hustled me out of the courtroom and back into the cell with the other prisoners. The smell of their sweat and the frothy piss in the bucket, now filled to overflowing, was overpowering. Karl grabbed me and dragged me in behind the other prisoners. Spunk was leaking out of my hole as he stuck one of his thick fingers into it...

"Magistrate fuck you?" he asked. I nodded. "Now you really piece of shit!"

he said angrily. I don't know why he was angry, I was a helpless handcuffed prisoner, I had no choice. Nevertheless, he dragged me over to the piss bucket, which also had two or three turds at the bottom of it, and pushed my face into it, holding it there till I nearly drowned. He let me up for air for a couple of seconds, then pushed my face down in the stinking mess again. He repeated this several times, to the laughter of the other inmates, before standing me on my feet and slapping my face several times till I saw stars. I did not offer any resistance - I knew this was what I deserved: and he knew it too!

I was crying like a baby when he threw me into a corner in disgust, and I sat down on my haunches. More spunk leaked out of my hole as I lowered my head in shame and humility. The other prisoners left me alone this time and I retreated into my thoughts.

After about an hour, the door of the guard house opened and I heard an English voice: obviously it was a representative from the British embassy. I was embarrassed as my name was called and I stood up, walking naked, handcuffed and fucked, with spunk leaking out of my hole towards the bars.

The embassy staff member walked towards me and spoke to me from the other side of the bars: "You realise there is nothing we can do now? If you sign that paper requesting nationality of this country, we cannot do anything! Why are you doing this?" He was wearing a suit, and I was naked, shaved and had clearly been abused horribly - I went red in the face.

He asked the guards if I could be brought out and the cuffs taken off - after some demur, they agreed and the door was unlocked. I was brought out, the cuffs taken off for the first time in days and I stood before him as he sat at the infamous desk over which the prisoners were held down and caned every day. He was a big, youngish man with blond hair and blue eyes, clean-shaven - and he was clearly shocked at the way I had been treated...

"There's no point asking how they've been treating you - I can see you've been flogged, branded and... I suppose those are cane marks on your buttocks?" Reddening with embarrassment, I could only nod and look down at the floor. No chair was offered to me of course, so I stood in front of him as he sat. He was silent for a few moments, looking me up and down... I covered my genitals with my hands in some attempt to maintain my dignity.

"I suppose you've been raped?" he asked, nonchalantly, since everyone knew this was the customary treatment for prisoners. I looked into his blue eyes and again nodded.

"Often?"

Again I nodded.

"How many times?" I wondered why he was asking...

"I don't know, but many times..."

"I see from the court papers you were arrested for a speeding offence. Then you tried to escape..." Of course, this was not true, but I said nothing.

"Don't you think that was an idiotic thing to do? You know what the penalties here are, and they're a bloody primitive lot..."

Again, I said nothing as I stood naked before my seated interrogator.

"You realise you will have no rights from now on?" I nodded: "...and we can do nothing for you?"

"You will be less than a slave... why did you apply for citizenship?"

"Because... because - I deserve this..." my voice had dropped to a whisper.

"You deserve this? What on earth do you mean?"

"I committed a crime, I deserve to be punished..." (again in a whisper).

"Don't tell me they've brainwashed you as well! For God's sake man, have you no self-respect? If I asked to have you caned now, in front of me, do you mean to tell me you would accept that?"

I hesitated, then nodded slowly.

"I don't believe you! Guard!..." the blond young man called the guard, who came over to us.

"Cane him! Show me how you treat prisoners here!"

I was shocked as two guards came over held me down over the desk, kicked my legs apart and a third guard started to cane my buttocks viciously. The blond man from the embassy was sitting directly in front of me, observing my facial reactions as the cane cracked down on to my helpless rump. I was shocked too to discover that his cock was growing inside his trousers....

After twenty vicious cracks of the cane, they stopped. The young man took my chin in his hand and turned my face upwards to look into my eyes...

"And you think you deserve this?" I could see his cock was fully hard now...

"Yes - Sir..." (for the first time, I used this form of address to indicate my position...

"In that case, sign the paper now! Your country will forget about you, and you will remain here for ever till you die..."

He was clearly enjoying this moment, as through my tear-filled eyes I said: "Yes, Sir..."

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...

CHAPTER NINE

That evening, I was taken "home" by the inspector as usual, and subjected to another night of filth from his body and a brutal fucking. I was given scraps of food to eat from a dog-bowl on the floor, which he pissed on (this was my only drink).

In the morning, I served as his toilet as usual, being force-fed the crap from his arse and made to drink his stinking, strong morning piss.

After he dressed, he threw me into the back of his car, and drove back to the prison. But this time I was not shoved into the cell with the other prisoners as usual, but strapped down face up on the desk. I was afraid of what would be done to me, but lay there quietly without resistance, which would have been a waste of time anyway...

The inspector opened a drawer in the desk and took out three steel rings, making sure I could see them. Each of them had a small break in them, so that they were not closed rings - yet...

He then took out a small box and opened it, revealing a collection of large hypodermic needles: they were about two millimetres thick and several centimetres long, the back end of them being hollow (again, he made sure I could see them as he slowly selected the ones he would inevitably use on my nipples and cock). My heart was pounding as he calmly dropped them into a jar of alcohol and iodine.

Strapped down to the desk, my nipples and cock were defenceless against the attack on them that was to follow...

A guard held my head up so that I would see what was being done to me (and now the prisoners in the cell were very quiet, watching the proceedings intently).

The inspector attached a surgical clamp to each of my nipples, causing excruciating pain, though this reduced somewhat as the blood supply was cut off. The ends of the clamps consisted of a hollow triangle, through which the needle would be pushed.

He began with my right nipple, pushing the large hypo through it with a cork at the hollow end. I cried out with pain as the needle was pushed through slowly but inexorably till it came out the other side. When the needle was through, he replaced the cork with the open end of one of the large rings, and continued pushing till the ring entered my flesh. Then he continued pushing the ring till the needle emerged from the other side, still with the ring in its hollow end. He took away the needle and continued pushing the ring until the open end was under my nipple.

He repeated the process on my left nipple, with the same excruciating pain, so that now both nipples throbbed with pain. He removed the clamps, which again caused much pain as the blood supply returned. He then placed a piece of thick leather on my chest under the rings and my nipples. An electric soldering iron was plugged into the wall and heated up...

I sweated with fear... He carefully inserted a metal tag into the ring through my right nipple, bent into an A-shape through the opening in the ring, followed by a strip of soldering metal, which he melted with the hot soldering iron to close the gap in the ring. I was grateful for the leather which prevented droplets of hot soldering metal dropping on to my flesh and burning me, though I could still feel the heat of the iron on my nipple. Then the tag was bent together with large pliers, leaving a small gap, which was itself soldered together on to the ring. Now the ring was impossible to remove, unless my nipple was cut off or the ring sawn through - which was virtually impossible because of the metal tag, any saw would inevitably cut my flesh.

The whole process was repeated on my left nipple ring. Both my nipples throbbed with pain, but again I could only accept what was being done to me in the name of the "law"...

He slowly lit a cigarette and surveyed his handiwork. The next part of the procedure would be my cock, and I was terrified... After he had finished his cigarette and stubbed it out, he took my shrivelling cock in his left hand and carefully inserted a curved hypo into the piss slit: it eventually reach the underside of my cock inside my piss chute... He pushed it through my cock flesh firmly till it came out the other side, leaving the open end of the needle still poking out of my piss slit. I groaned with pain, but the guard who held my head up so I could see everything simply clapped his big dirty free hand over my mouth to gag me.

Again, the open end of the third ring was placed inside the needle and pushed through. The tagging procedure was repeated after the leather was placed across my balls and thighs.

Now I was ringed and tagged like all other life prisoners... The inspector motioned for the guards to stand me up and he pushed me towards a large mirror on the wall: I could see both my nipples weighed down by the rings and tags, and my cock too, which had a heavier, thicker tag through its ring. That meant that my fucking days were over - clearly, I could never fuck again with the metal attached to the end of my cock. I was shocked to see how thick and big the rings were. The inspector stood behind me and hefted the rings and tags up and down, allowing them to drop - the tugs on my flesh causing sharp pains in my chest. I leaned back against him, as I thought I would faint - and he seemed to like this as he continued to toy with my rings. Then he said something to one of the guards, who brought the bottle of iodine with him and some cotton wool. I knew the mixture of alcohol and iodine would cause agony to my wounds, but at least they would be free of infection. The inspector held me fast, my hands cuffed behind me, as the guard applied the burning mixture liberally to my nipples and cock...

I screamed, leaning back against the inspector, but the guard continued his work without paying the slightest bit of attention: obviously, he had done this many times before.

As a lifer, I would now be moved to another prison, and I was wheeled round and pushed towards the door. As I walked unsteadily towards it, I saw Karl looking at me pityingly, with tears in his eyes - I think in his own way he loved me...

The door was opened and I was pushed out into the stifling hot sunshine towards a waiting police van. I was still naked as usual and handcuffed. I was bundled into the back of the van, which had two benches on either side and a number of chains with collars attached to the sides of the van. They sat me down and locked one of the collars round my neck. Then two other prisoners were bundled into the van after half an hour or so, during which I was left alone to sit in the stiflingly hot van with my nipples and cock throbbing in agony.

When the inspector appeared with the other two prisoners, I asked him for water, but he simply climbed into the van after locking up the other two, opened his fly and simply stuck his cock in my mouth and urinated. I was grateful for his piss - at least it was wet in my parched mouth. I drank greedily as the other prisoners watched. They too were in agony, having been subjected to the same treatment as I had been. Like me, they were in handcuffs, naked, shaved and beaten. The inspector then gagged us all with a thick piece of leather tied behind our heads, so that we could not speak to each other.

The van drove off along an incredibly bumpy road, causing our rings and tags to bounce up and down, increasing the pain in our flesh - but we could only groan through our gags.

After about an hour of driving like this, the van stopped. We heard the guards getting out of the front and walking round behind to open the doors. They came in, unlocked the younger of the other two - who I guess was about 18 years old - and dragged him out, closing the doors behind them. From the muffled screams we could hear, I suppose they were fucking the lad...

After about twenty minutes, the doors were opened again, and the lad lock in place as before, tears streaming down his face. His shaven, hairless body was scratched and bruised, so the fucking had obviously been pretty brutal.

We drove another hour or so, then stopped: at first I thought it would be our turn next for the same treatment, but when the door opened and the guards unlocked us, I saw that we were inside another prison compound. We climbed out of the van, still handcuffed and gagged, and walked through the compound, eyed by the other prisoners in the exercise yard. It was a small prison, with barbed wire all round. As I said, there were not many lifers in this country, where it was expensive to keep prisoners - it was more efficient to give a prisoner a good flogging and send him home than keep him locked up for years.

Once inside, our hands were uncuffed and our fingerprints taken. We were given a cursory medical examination, which seemed to centre on our teeth, genitals, branded buttocks and our arseholes. Then we were marched to the showers, gagged once more and given cold showers, for which I was very grateful in the stifling heat. This was the first time I had been washed for over a month. So the stink of men's cocks and arses which had lingered on my face was finally washed away - though I had no idea of how often we would be washed...

CHAPTER TEN

Then we were marched out to the exercise yard with the other prisoners: like us, they were naked, shaved from head to foot, with rings and tags through their nipples and cocks - this at least meant that they would not be doing any fucking, so my arsehole would be safe from them (though of course the guards would be free to do whatever they liked to us...). The others crowded round us, wanting to know our names and why we were in here. They were very interested in the fact that I was English - it seemed I was the only foreigner they had ever had here. The gags had been taken out of our mouths and our hands were no longer cuffed. I spoke to the young lad who had been so brutally fucked, and he seemed surprised at my kindness - in fact, it caused tears to well up in his eyes. He asked me (I could speak their language a bit by now) "why are they doing this to me?" I asked him why he was arrested: it seemed that he had attacked his stepfather who was raping his younger brother, after years of treating his mother brutally. The attack had resulted in his stepfather's death. I could only put my arm round his shoulder to comfort him - there would be no reprieve for him, just years of imprisonment till he himself died - the same fate that I was condemned to.

At least I knew the inspector would come for me from time to time, but for him there would only be endless monotony, surrounded by other naked prisoners who would no doubt use his mouth again and again - they could not fuck him because of the rings and metal tags through their cocks, but at least his tongue would be useful up their arseholes as they jerked their ringed cocks...

As if on cue, two of the older prisoners, grabbed him away from me, frog-marching him backwards to a corner of the yard as he pleaded with me to save him. But I was powerless against the others, and could only watch as he was forced to his knees and made to lick the balls and arseholes of his two tormentors while they jerked off...

Eventually, a whistle was blown and all the prisoners stood to attention in a line, their hands behind their backs, so I joined them in similar posture...

The camp commandant emerged from inside the grim building and inspected the line of naked, shaven, ringed prisoners - who stared straight in front of them, not daring to register any expression on their faces, lest the commandant took it for impertinence. Occasionally, he would stop by a prisoner, hefting his cock and balls in his hands, then yanking them viciously up and down to provoke some agonised reaction. If a prisoner dared remove his hands from behind his back, the two guards who accompanied the commandant immediately set about beating him with canes which they always carried with them. If he resisted, or fell to the ground, he was immediately kicked until he stood to attention again - and the guards simply continued to cane his chest, belly, legs, back and buttocks till the commandant ordered them to stop. Seeing a grown man shuddering with sobs and tears is a pitiful thing, but this was a sight I grew used to over the next few years: every man in this prison had welts on all parts of his body from the frequent canings dished out by the guards. Of course, like me, they were all branded and ringed: the rings through their cocks meant that none of them would ever be able to fuck again - the only fucking done in this place was by the guards, and it was the prisoners naturally who were on the receiving end of the guards' dicks. Some of these men had been married or had girlfriends, but now they were just fuck tools for the amusement of the guards. They had no rights, like all life-prisoners, and they were shaved smooth from head to foot (I noticed that even their eyebrows had been removed, a fate that no doubt awaited me...).

The commandant - a burly, thick-set man with short-cropped hair and a stubbly chin - walked along the line, "inspecting" his prisoners, each of whose genitals were given a vicious mauling, and stopped in front of me: with my heart pounding, I stared straight out in front of me, not daring to look into his eyes. Without warning, he brought his knee up into my groin, bashing my balls... The pain was excruciating, but I kept my hands behind my back, although my body bent forward as an instinctive reaction. My head rested for a moment on his uniformed chest, but he just grabbed my ringed nipples and pulled me upright again. I stood manfully to attention while he continued to pull and twist my nipples, keeping my hands behind my back.

He seemed impressed with this and smiled...

"You foreign dog - for you we have special treatment, very special..." he said in a sinister tone of voice.

I tried to show no reaction, though there must have been a flicker in my eyes, because he gave a vicious twist to the rings in my nipples, which elicited a yelp of pain from me, I could not help it. His face darkened with annoyance, and he snapped his fingers to one of the guards, who fished out a thick leather gag from his pocket and strapped it tightly into my mouth, fastening the strap behind my head with great efficiency... Then he handcuffed my hands behind my back once more, and I continued to stand to attention... Suddenly, the guard at the gate called out that a visitor was arriving – I understood enough of their language to realise that it was the British ambassador's car - and, sure enough, as the gate swung open, the ambassadorial car drove in, sporting a Union Jack on its bonnet.

It must have been a strange sight that greeted the ambassador's eyes as he drove past the line of naked, shaven prisoners standing to attention. He must have thought it was some weird guard of honour, got out to greet him. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him get out, accompanied by the blond man who had visited me in the other prison. They looked briefly in our direction before going inside...

The commandant left us standing there in the sweltering sun and disappeared inside, no doubt to 'welcome' the official party...

Two guards emerged a few minutes later, walking briskly towards me. The marched me towards the door I had seen the others go through, and flung it open, marching me quickly to the commandant's office. When we entered, I saw the ambassador and the blond man seated and drinking a glass of something, no doubt alcoholic.

I felt unbelievably embarrassed as I stood to attention - naked, shaven, gagged and handcuffed - the commandant and the two men from the embassy continued to chat as if I wasn't there for a moment, but then the ambassador asked the commandant if it was really necessary to parade me naked, cuffed and gagged like this in front of him...

"He has no rights, he is life prisoner... I cannot make exception for him..." the commandant said dryly.

So there I stood, with heavy rings through my nipples and cock, made heavier by the metal tags which were attached to them. The ambassador spoke:

"It seems you've been a naughty boy - for God's sake man, why did you sign that paper? We could have got you out of here and stopped all this nonsense!"

Of course, the thick leather gag filled my mouth and I could not answer...

"Can you at least take the gag out, so he can answer me?" the ambassador asked the commandant.

"He has nothing to say - he is life prisoner. He does not have right to speak..." the commandant once more reminded them.

The blond man from the embassy smiled at me... "You see, Ambassador, I told you - he knew what he was getting into: we're better off without this filthy pervert!"

The ambassador got up - a tall, distinguished man with greying temples – and walked towards me, then round the back of me...

"I see they've given you the full treatment, brands and all!" he commented with some surprise.

I didn't know whether he knew what "the full treatment" meant in these parts - the endless filth and degradation to which I had been subjected, the many times my asshole had been violated - he could only have had the vaguest idea. I blushed with embarrassment as he fingered my branded buttocks...

The guards suddenly bent me over to give him a better look at my most intimate opening, pulling my buttocks wide open - clearly, a well-practised formality here. The ambassador diplomatically thanked them for their efforts, and I was stood upright again. He moved round in front of me and fingered the rings through my nipples. He spoke softly to me: "there might be something I can do to get you out of here - I could speak to the President himself. But if I sign this final paper, you will never leave this place, your freedom will be lost for ever - are you sure?"

For the first time, I began to change my mind - I did not think I could spend the rest of my life like this... The commandant must have understood, because he immediately motioned the guards to take me away, before I had time to shake my head. As they pulled me backwards and I started to show in my eyes that I had changed my mind, my verbal pleas being reduced to a muffled groaning through my gag, I saw the commandant hand the paper to the ambassador, who looked at me one last time and, thinking that I had no objection, signed the paper which once and for all yielded me up to the tender mercies of the brutal regime that now possessed me, body and soul, for the rest of my life. The blond embassy man knew that I wanted to say "no", but distracted the ambassador by handing him his pen to sign: my last hope had gone, and now I was doomed...

I was marched outside again, to join the line of naked prisoners, and stood to attention as the ambassador and his assistant got into the embassy car. I tried to catch the ambassador's eye in a vain attempt to signal my desire to be rescued, but the big, blond man kept him out of my view, so that now there was no hope of ever being 'rescued': he smiled at me as he got in the car - a cruel smile, as he handed the commandant an envelope with what I presumed was a wad of notes (clearly, he had some malicious arrangement with the commandant which involved me...).

The car drove off, and the commandant came back towards me. He smiled at me as he lit a cigarette: then he motioned to the guards to take me inside. I was marched down various corridors, then down a flight of stairs into the basement. I was terrified: what new horrors awaited me?...