Chapter thirteen
Under Eric’s direct instructions, the guards had held me down in the punishment room, with my legs pushed back over my shoulders, while the boy, a teenage inmate, had taken the red-hot tip of a cigarette and burned the flesh from the left side of my sphincter and badly scorched my anus. The agony in my asshole was intense, but it would have started to heal by now if Eric hadn’t decided ‘I’ll keep the pain going – the boy’s going to scrape the cunt’s burnt rectum with heavy-duty sandpaper every day for the next week’ Eric had said, ‘It’ll be a messy job for the boy, but he’s a sadist so he’ll enjoy it and it’ll be a good lesson for the cunt’.
Now, in my cell on that first evening after the burning, Eric was carrying out his threat. He told me to kneel in front of the boy. I knelt in front of the grinning inmate-kid. Eric said: ‘There are raw burns inside your asshole, shitface. I can see that they give you loads of pain’ – I had grimaced and touched my asshole as I had knelt down – ‘the hard labour guard reported that you were yelling out with the pain in your asshole today– that’s great. Bits of your skin have actually been burned off, leaving nasty singed raw areas right inside’. The boy laughed out loud at that nice thought. Eric continued ‘Each day, the burns will try to heal – new bits of skin will form – but the boy’s going to scrape the new skin with sandpaper every evening for a week, to keep your excruciatingly painful little wounds open and raw. You’ll feel each evening like you’ve been burned again or worse. The boy will use industrial-grade sandpaper to scrape away the bits of new skin and he’ll dig a bit into each of the burn-wounds. Your asshole will bleed again from his fresh torture.
‘Now it’s time to beg the boy to get you ready and give you this punishment’, said Eric. I knew that any resistance at that moment would be futile and just result in more pain. ‘Yes, Sir’, I said. ‘Thank you, Young Sir. Please prepare me, so you can torture my burnt asshole with your sandpaper, Young Sir. I deserve it’, I said. ‘Kiss his feet’ ordered Eric and I bent down and kissed his dirty trainers, and the boy laughed, ‘You’ve got the cunt where you want it, Mr Eric’, he said.
The boy told me to Get on your bed and lie on your back, you lump of shit’, and he cuffed my hands and attached them separately to the corners of the bed. Then he put me cuffs on each ankle, and he and Eric together bent my legs back over my head and attached the cuffs to separate corners of the steel bedhead. This forced open my burned asshole and exposed it for more abuse. The boy lent over me and spat in my face, and then, with a smirk, he held in front of my eyes a piece of very rough-looking sandpaper which he had rolled up into a cylinder for inserting into my burnt asshole
Eric stood behind the boy with his phone, using it as a torch pointing up my rectum. The boy peered in, ‘Fuck, we burnt away half his asshole – one whole side is raw.’ ‘Good, get on with it and make the cunt scream’, said Eric. The boy took the rolled-up torture-sandpaper and sat down on my bed in front of my gaping asshole.
‘It’s fucking nasty in there, Mr Eric’, said the boy proudly, ‘but I’m going to make it much worse for the cunt. I’ll burst those little burn-blisters – I'll make sure the cunt feels each one. Then I’ll go deep and scrape hard. I’ll make the cunt fucking scream till it can’t scream any more ...’
The boy inserted into my rectum that first piece of industrial sandpaper. It wasn’t rolled up very tightly and it immediately started to scrape everywhere. After a few seconds, it touched, just touched, one of the burn blisters. It was as if a severe electric jolt went from my asshole right through my body and then settled back into my asshole. The pain of each little scrape on a burn from that sandpaper was so intense that I could barely breathe. I screamed.
The boy laughed and made cheerful comments about the state of me as he continued to assault my burnt asshole with unbelievable cruelty. I thrashed around. I couldn’t help it. I moved my ass left and right in a futile attempt to avoid the worst of the boy’s hellish torture. The boy actually lost his grip a couple of times but it didn’t even slow him down. He pulled out the first piece of sandpaper, now red with my asshole-blood, and rolled up a much bigger piece. Eric watched with a look of satisfaction on his face and told me, ‘Stop moving around, cunt, and let the boy do his job, or you’ll get 20 with my belt right there on your stretched ass and balls, and then the boy will start over, and’, he added, ‘you’ll get 20 more in the punishment room if I get blood on my belt’.
I forced myself to stay nearly still, while the boy put bigger and nastier pieces of sandpaper into my asshole and moved them around enthusiastically. When he felt they were getting a bit worn or were slick with my asshole-blood, he would pull them out abruptly, almost with a flourish. A couple of the worst times he showed me the blood-soaked sandpaper with a broad grin on his face: ‘Nice, eh, cunt?’. After about a half-a-dozen of these torture-scrapings, Eric decided that the pain from my burns had been fully restored – actually it was, as he had suggested, worse than the original burns, and it got worse still when Eric pointed the pepper-antiseptic punishment spray straight up my asshole on to the new wounds. I lifted my ass high off my bed and screamed louder than ever. Both Eric and the boy laughed at me.
Eric untied my legs and left me sobbing in agony in my dark, damp and filthy cell. As they left, I heard the boy saying ‘I’m not going to bother with the smaller pieces of sandpaper tomorrow – I’ll just shove the big pieces up the cunt and rub harder’; then Eric replied ‘I’ll bring a cane in case it can’t stop moving around – it can clean the cane itself if it gets it bloody’.
‘I’ll make sure you need that fucking cane’, said the boy. Sure enough, the next evening, after just one scraping, Eric gave me twenty with the cane, including several on my balls, for moving around too much during the torture. I fought myself to stay still after that, but it was so difficult, especially when the boy gave me an extra scraping where he had burnt by ballsack with his cigarette in the Punishment Room a couple of days earlier – the wound had been re-opened by Eric during the caning and the pain was incredible.
The scrapings all that week, given by that sadistic teenage inmate, were so painful that they overtook my senses. I worked at my hard labour all day with my punished hands and burnt foot, and now, worse than anything, with a tortured asshole. The sweat which ran down my back into my crack and then my asshole, while I worked on the endless pointless hard labour, naked, non-stop for hours, and often at the double, carrying loads of rubble, intensified the terrible asshole pain. To make matters even worse, the black trainee guard in charge of my hard labour quickly decided that it was good discipline, if he thought I was slacking, or if he just fancied punishing me, to put his cattle prod right up my poor tortured asshole and to electrocute my wounds. No caning, no paddling, no hand-belting, nothing they did to me in that terrible week, could come close to the acute and constant pain from my burnt scraped asshole.
On, I think, the third night of scraping, the blond guard came with the boy-scraper instead of Eric. The scraping was even worse than before. When the boy started with the third piece of rolled up sandpaper, I started jerking my ass left and right. I couldn’t help it. ‘I’m giving you 20 with my belt on your balls, cunt, if you keep moving move around. Let the boy do his job’. I tried hard not to move but the boy’s violent assault on my asshole with a really big and really rough piece of industrial sandpaper made it just impossible to stay still. The blond guard’s ball-beating, which resulted, was horrendous. He really used his strength to beat my balls. The deep and spreading ache from those leather-belt hits built up inside me until I couldn’t even scream. I didn’t even have the strength to move my ass around after that ball-beating, so the boy carried on with his sandpaper burn-scraping unhindered, and even used a couple more pieces of sandpaper than usual.
Later, I noticed that my balls were double their normal size and my ball-sack was welted and very sore, especially where the burn over my right ball had opened up again. The swelling went down overnight but the trainee in charge of my hard-labour could still see where to use his cattle-prod for my discipline the next day … one in my asshole, next one on my balls …
Eric also caned me twice more for moving around during scraping, 12 strokes the first time and 24 the second, both mainly on my ass – caning my ass always gave Eric special satisfaction – but my punished balls also caught a few of his vicious strokes.
After his last scraping, at the end of a full week of scrapings, the boy said to Eric: ‘If it was down to me, Mr Eric, I’d get a big dangerous dog to come and fuck that bloody mess of an asshole – it’d be fun to watch the perverted cunt getting fucked and tortured by a dog.’ Eric looked down at my bleeding burned asshole, and didn’t reply – but he did smile broadly at the boy, and patted him on the shoulder as they left my cell.
Eric and the boy often dealt with me together from that week onwards. They started coming out to the hard-labour yard together to give me my pig-food – I noticed that it was always nastier when the boy was around. One day, there were two cockroaches, one dead one nearly dead, lying on top of the food. Another day, there was a lump of bird-shit that Eric made me chew: the boy said ‘the gulls leave that mess – they live on the garbage dump so that’s reprocessed garbage in your dinner’. Of course, I always had to eat every scrap, and I had to thank Eric and the boy for my pig-food, which was now invariably given to me in the vomit-bowl.
When Eric caned me one morning in the punishment room, the boy who was watching, which was usual now, had obviously tented shorts. He clearly got off on Eric’s sadism. He liked to sit in front of me during my canings or sessions with the prison strap, which I particularly dreaded, ‘so I can watch your face, cunt, while Mr Eric skins your dirty ass’. Sometimes, Eric would let him twist my nipples with his sharp fingernails before I was strapped down to be beaten. And Eric would always let him ‘inspect the cunt’ running his fingernails over my welts, pinching hard some well-beaten sore points and giving me the odd extra smack.
On that particular morning, something different happened. After administering 20 agonising strokes with a heavy prison cane to my naked buttocks, I was waiting for the boy’s ‘inspection’, but this time Eric came round to where the boy was sitting and kissed him passionately on his mouth. The boy pulled Eric closer and they snogged each other. Right in front of me.
A couple of minutes later, with Eric and the boy still making out in front of me and with me still strapped tightly to the spanking bench after my caning, the blond guard came into the Punishment Room, ready to shit in my mouth. Eric had already told me I would be eating guard-shit this morning.
‘Hey – wow! – go for it, Eric’, laughed the blond guard. Eric and the boy looked up briefly and snogged some more.
The blond guard just went about his work. First, he sprayed the bleeding bits of my caned ass with the punishment antiseptic-pepper spray, which always made me scream. Then he unstrapped me and ordered me to lie down face-up under the toilet box, where he locked my head into place for his shit. ‘Hey, Eric, mouth-open gag for the cunt?’ shouted the blond guard. ‘Yeah, gag it wide – open the cunt’s mouth fucking wide – that mouth-open gag makes it really difficult for the cunt to swallow, so it’ll have to keep your nasty fucking turds in its mouth for a bit – it’ll really fucking taste them’, said Eric. Then he turned back to the boy who had started giggling, presumably at the hilarious thought of my mouth being stuffed with guard-turds which I couldn’t swallow. The boy lay down on the sofa and Eric lay on top of him.
Then, while the blond guard took a massive stinking morning shit into my mouth at one end of the punishment room, Eric and the boy made out on the sofa at the other end …
Chapter fourteen
A few days after Eric had kissed the boy after caning me in the punishment room, I was struggling in my dark cell with my morning gruel. The boy, who seemed now to be allowed by Eric to do anything he wanted, had added a lot of salt to it that morning, to punish me with a raging thirst which would last all day. The one thing you could be sure about was that the boy always made things worse.
The blond guard came for me and, when he saw I hadn’t eaten all my gruel, he said ‘You know you have to eat it all, cunt, it’s medicated and keeps you fit for punishments: you’ve got sixty seconds to finish or I’ll take you to the punishment room for two dozen with the prison-strap, bring you back here, piss in it, and then make you finish it.’ I forced somehow, in that one minute given to me, the horrible salty mess down my throat.
The guard cuffed me and took out a ball-gag. He blew his nose on the mouth-side of the gag and then attached it – ‘a bit of extra salt for you, cunt’ he joked as the slime from his nose oozed into my mouth. To my surprise, he then removed my cage and wound a tough scratchy brown rope very tightly round the base of my dick. It was seriously painful: it was tight enough to squeeze my scraped urethra. The blond guard then pulled me at a fast pace to a different part of the prison, deliberately holding the rope high to put extra strain on my dick and forcing me to walk on tiptoe.
Then I recognized the carpeted corridors and the entrance to the hotel-style bedroom and bathroom where I had been taken once before. My nipples and throat had been tortured there and I had watched Eric submit to a caning from the black trainee guard – nothing like as fierce as when he caned me but still it must have hurt him.
Eric and the boy were lying naked on the bed as I entered. Both were hard, Eric the more impressive of the two. What was in store for me?
Instead of the wooden chair which had been there before, there was a steel bondage chair at the end of the big double-bed. I was told by the blond guard – ‘sit, cunt!’
My ‘chair’ had only a very narrow studded seat, and it had two metal bars sticking out of it in front at right angles to each other. I had to sit on that studded seat - the metal studs weren't particularly sharp but they soon got very uncomfortable - and I had to rest my thighs on the right-angled bars where the guard secured them with tight leather straps. This forced my legs wide open at the front. The guard then uncuffed my arms, stretched them around the back of the chair and re-cuffed them there. Two more strong leather straps were pulled and tightened around my waist and my chest. I was immobilised. My dick and balls were obscenely exposed, facing the bed with Eric and the boy.
As soon as the blond guard finished securing me, the naked boy saw an opportunity for some extra sadistic fun with me. He jumped off the bed and grabbed my rough penis-rope and pulled it violently in all different directions, shouting ‘pulling left’, ‘hard right’ and ‘down to the floor it goes’. It was intensely painful. I could only produce incoherent groans and little screeches through my ball-gag. Then he pulled the rope upwards harder than ever, so sharply that it felt like he was yanking my dick by its root right out of my body. He wrapped the rope once round my neck, and tied the end of the rope, which was now absolutely taut, to my handcuffs at the back of the chair. Now I couldn’t even move my head for fear of strangling myself.
Eric told the boy, now back in bed with his arm round Eric’s neck, ‘Nice one – strain the cunt’s dick!’ and he kissed the boy’s mouth. The boy smirked.
Then Eric, lying naked with an arm lazily around the boy’s shoulder, turned to me and started one of the lectures he enjoyed giving now that he had total power over me: ‘Well, cunt, now we’ve got hold of that bondage chair, we decided to bring you back here again. You’ll watch more nice stuff that you’ll never do again. You’ll watch us have sex knowing you’ll never have sex again, except for the rapes we arrange, and knowing you’ll never get hard and cum again or even lie on a proper bed again. And, I warn you, you’ll watch us all the time – if you close your eyes for more than a blink, I’ll pepper-spray them – and, believe me, you don’t want to find out how that feels.
‘We’re going to keep you in more pain this time’, Eric said, and then he turned to the blond guard ‘Did you bring those pincers?’ The guard produced a bag from his pocket containing a dozen or so small pincers which were, I could see at once, definitely not designed for attaching to human flesh. They were shaped like scissors but they had little round clamps on the ends which closed with powerful springs – I watched the blond guard strain with his hand against the spring as he opened the first pincer he was going to attach to me.
He decided to start by pincering some loose but sensitive flesh in my right armpit. The springs slammed the little clamps together so tightly that the tiny bits of my flesh – my soft armpit flesh – caught in them were crushed to almost nothing. The pain from those tiny clamps at the end of the pincer was intense. The brutal pinching pain just went on and on. My body tried to writhe but I could hardly move in my tight bondage. I groaned and produced incoherent sounds of agony from behind my gag.
The blond guard smiled as he attached the next evil torturing pincers to my left armpit, then to each of my ear-lobes, to my perineum, to each inner thigh. He kept, of course, half of the pincers for my dick which had now been stretched straight upwards by the boy, exposing the full length of its tender under-side for torture. One after the other, pincer after pincer, crushed the tenderest bits of my dick-flesh. He went onto attach six of them them mercilessly to the ring of delicate flesh surrounding my dick-head. As he pulled agonisingly on all my pincers ‘to make sure they’re well-attached’, the blond guard told me; ‘I’ve left out your nipples so Eric can burn them with cigarettes later – because it turns him on – look forward to it, cunt’, said the blond guard. Eric was smiling.
It was a small relief that my balls had been left out of the pincer-horror, but not for long. A few seconds later, the guard reached into another pocket and showed me two bulldog clips. He clicked them in front of my face, and said ‘one for each of your nasty testicles, cunt’, and he attached them to my exposed balls, adding a final level of pain, a throbbing ache from each crushed ball.
The blond guard, his punishment duties over, stripped naked and joined the other two in bed. Eric was in the middle.
For a few minutes, the three of them watched me, fascinated, while I wriggled miserably, tortured and in tight bondage. I squeaked and gurgled. They obviously enjoyed my involuntary show, as they started to fondle each other and kissed lightly. Eventually, as I suppose they knew I would, I settled somehow into one torturous position. I was exhausted, and I was also starting to feel the thirst the boy had imposed on me by pouring salt into my morning gruel.
Eric took hold of the hard dicks on either side of him and calmly resumed his lecture to me: ‘We’re going to have some fun now, while you watch. Then I’ll burn your nipples. Then we’ll probably have a bit more fun. When we’re finished, we’ll discuss your next punishments.’
The blond guard leant his head into Eric’s so they were cheek-to-cheek and added his bit to Eric’s lecture: ‘You definitely won’t like what you hear about your next punishments, cunt, about what we’re going to do to you, especially’, he nodded to the boy, ‘now that the no-limits torture-kid here is involved – this boy definitely doesn’t like you much, cunt!’ The boy laughed out loud and started playing with Eric’s dick. Eric just smiled.
They soon forgot about me, sitting on the rivets on my bondage chair, forced to sit in agony to watch them have sex. Through all my excruciating pain, I remembered the beauty of Eric’s young body and his amazing soft-lipped mouth, now forever inaccessible. He was now adding mental torture to my punishments.
I watched while they spit-roasted Eric whose big erection dripped as he experienced vigorous love-making at both of his ends. The boy came in Eric’s lubed ass a few seconds before the blond guard spurted at least four times into Eric’s mouth. Some of the blond guard’s cum slithered on to Eric’s chin and the boy lent over to lick it up.
Eric now turned on to his back and the boy sat gently on his face. Eric ate the boy’s ass – he made love to it – he pulled the boy right down on to him. Then he lifted him and inserted his tongue into the boy’s asshole as deeply as it was possible to go, which sent the boy into a kind of wriggling ecstasy. With the boy on Eric’s face, the blond guard lubed himself and climbed on to Eric’s dick and started working it with his ass – Eric lasted barely a minute before exploding into the guard and on to the sheets.
After only a moment’s relaxation, Eric, ever the sub in this threesome, was on his knees on the bed. He grinned as if he was about to tuck into the best meal ever, and settled down to worship the blond guard’s feet, sucking on his toes, licking between his toes, licking under his feet and kissing his ankles and the balls of his feet. The boy mounted Eric while he was foot-feasting and fucked him hard from behind. When the boy came, which didn’t take long, the blond guard, turned on by Eric’s foot-worship, flipped Eric over on to his back, pulled himself to his knees and threw himself on top of the prone Eric with a slapping sound. The blond guard shoved his raging and dripping hard-on into Eric’s mouth. At the same time, the boy had literally started to chew on Eric’s cock and balls – I could see he was using his teeth as well as sucking hard – it must have hurt. Eric came over the boy’s face and the blond guard came in Eric’s mouth a minute later. The blond guard licked Eric’s cum from the boy and he and the boy kissed deeply before relaxing, using Eric’s torso as a foot-rest as he lay across the bottom of the bed, near me.
‘Torture! Torture! Torture!’ taunted the blond guard. I remembered my role in getting Eric going again from the last time, and I trembled. Eric turned to me and smiled and, of course, that word, that thought of torture he was about to administer to me, started to get him hard again. I started to shake as the boy reached over lazily for a cigarette from a bedside table, lit it and handed it to Eric – I had seen this before and I knew the agony that was coming my way. Eric pulled himself up in front of me and blew some smoke in my face.
Eric switched the cigarette to his left hand and then slapped my cheek firmly with his right. He unexpectedly punched my nose hard, making it bleed – I could feel the blood seep into my mouth around the ball-gag. Eric then switched the cigarette back to his stronger right hand. By now his dick was fully erect again and so close that some of his pre-cum dripped on to my squeezed right ball.
Then Eric prepared to torture me, the act which turned him on the most. He wasn’t even smiling any more, just concentrating on what he knew would give him sexual gratification. He was hard because he was causing pain to me, the person he hated and who had once kept him captive. In perfect silence, Eric drew on the cigarette, scorched my naked left nipple for just a second and then extinguished the red-hot tip on my naked right nipple. He actually inhaled wisps of smoke – bits of the live flesh of my nipple were literally burned into smoke. Eric held the cigarette on that nipple for several seconds, rubbing it in. He made sure that the burn was deep and the pain would be lasting.
Waves of indescribable pain flooded my chest. Both nipples felt as if a knife had been driven into them, and I thought at that moment that Eric had actually burned my right nipple off. I didn't even care at that moment. The pain was so extreme where my healthy right nipple had been that, if I had been able to do so, I would have sliced off the remains of it myself.
My whole torso shook and each of the dozen pincers attached to my body shifted a fraction of a millimetre, each renewing its own punishment.
I finally looked down. The nipple was still there but horribly discoloured and wounded. I teared up, I wept, as my physical and emotional hurts combined with the utter desperate hopelessness of my life in this hellish prison.
Eric, on the other hand, was now super-excited and jumped back on to the bed. He pulled the boy, who didn’t need much encouragement, back on to his face and lifted his own legs for the blond guard who, unexpectedly, didn’t fuck Eric but spanked him with his hand and then with a small brush. The blond guard spanked him on the ass continuously and hard and even a few times on the balls. Eric wanked hard and in a couple of minutes his cum exploded on to his own stomach. The boy sitting on Eric’s face lent forward and licked up Eric’s cum before shifting his position to fuck Eric’s mouth. The blond guard lifted Eric’s ass now scarlet from spanking and, this time, he fucked him.
The threesome lay naked and relaxed on the bed, Eric in the middle as usual. Eric and the boy were smoking. The blond guard lent his head on Eric’s shoulder. They were spent for now.
Eric pointed his cigarette towards me, yawned and said ‘I suppose we should discuss what we’re going to do with the cunt next.’
I sat on that unbearable bondage chair where I’d now been tied for the best part of two hours. I had a terrific thirst from the extra-salted gruel, I was covered with torturing pincers, I had a bloody nose and burnt nipples, I had squeezed balls, and I had tears in my eyes.
All three of them, Eric, the blond guard and the boy, looked up at me from the bed, and they laughed.
