‘This is what you have to understand’, said Eric. ‘I have complete control over you now. I told the court that you have no remorse, you attack younger inmates, and you don’t co-operate. So now you’ll have no outside contact for your whole 5-year sentence – I'm your world now – I'm in charge of your life, and I’m going to make sure that, at the end of 5 years, there’s nothing left of you worth releasing.’
I knelt naked in front of Eric. It was cold and it had been raining that morning and he made me kneel in a dirty puddle of freezing cold water in front of him – he had also told the guards to put some gravel in the puddle – ‘knee-discipline for you, cunt – stay still, or you’ll kneel on broken glass instead’, said Eric. Whatever I did, stones dug into my knees and punished them. I grimaced and stayed as still as I could. I knew that Eric’s threats were never idle and that I’d have to kneel on broken glass if I moved about. I whimpered from the pain that spread from my knees.
‘Shut your face and keep your back straight, cunt’ said Eric. He was sitting in his new dark prison-governor’s uniform, his 6-foot slim body relaxed on a comfortable bench in the prison yard. His boots shone and his buttons sparkled. He took his time and crossed his long legs lazily as he looked at me, kneeling on gravel in the freezing water, head bowed and naked. At 21, Eric was beautiful. At 27, I was being destroyed by Eric’s revenge. Eric’s face was perfect – he swept back his sandy hair to stop it flopping into his eyes. His complexion was perfect. His nose was straight and superior as he looked down at the filthy tortured plaything in front of him. His deep blue eyes shone with the relaxed pleasure he felt as his former tormentor was now tormented. Eric smiled his wonderful broad dimpled smile with his sensuous lips. Then he spoke.
‘You’ve completed the first two years of your sentence, cunt. You’re pretty much broken. But it’s going to get worse now.
‘Why are you being punished, cunt?’
‘I’m being punished for the abuse I gave when you I kept you in my dungeon, as well as for the abuse I’ve been sentenced for.
‘Do you deserve to be punished more, cunt?’
I saw a glimmer of hope. I threw myself at Eric’s feet. I grabbed his legs, my knees now torn by the gravel, my face at his boots. ‘No, Sir – please Sir – I've learned my lesson, Sir. Please let me be an ordinary prisoner again. Please Sir’.
The kick in the face from Eric’s boot was so hard that it dislodged two of my teeth and cut my lip. The series of slaps on my cheeks almost deafened me and made my ears ring. ‘Cuff the cunt’, ordered Eric as my hope drained away. ‘Kneel back up, cunt – you'll pay for that in the Punishment Room tonight’. ‘Guard - get some broken glass for the cunt’s puddle’.
I knelt on that broken glass. I felt splinters of glass penetrate the flesh my knees – one shard seemed to scratch my actual knee-bone in a painful way that made me want to cry out – but I knew that crying would just bring more horror. ‘If you move again, or make a sound, while I’m talking, the guard will shove some of that glass up your pisshole. Got it?’ ‘Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir’
Eric continued in his quiet but firm voice: ‘Your punishments are not going to stop. They’re going to get worse. Personally, I enjoy all your punishments but the best is still caning your ass – the boy, the inmates and some of the guards like to punish you in loads of different ways, and they’ll do it more and more, but I love caning your ass. I like it when you present it to me, naked on that spanking bench. Caning you turns me on. You made me lick your ass when I was in your dungeon. It was disgusting – you're such a perverted cunt. Well now, you’re getting a new experience. I get to beat your ass whenever I want – with canes, birches, paddles, prison-straps – whatever takes my fancy – and you don’t just have to lick my ass – you have to eat the shit that comes out of my ass. One thing I promise, cunt, is that you'll never sit comfortably again – I’ll keep caning that ass of yours – it's scarred for life and I’ll carry on making it bleed over and over– I'll never get bored and I’ll never hold back – I love to hear you scream on that spanking bench when I’m caning you.’
‘Stand, cunt’, ordered Eric. I struggled to my feet, my hands still cuffed behind my back. ‘Step back into the puddle, cunt, and don’t move’. Trickles of blood ran down from my knees where I’d been forced to kneel on glass, and now I had to stand with my whole weight in that cold puddle lined on the same broken glass. A few shards of glass still stuck in my knees. Now I stepped on to the glass. The day’s hard labour, the usual endless task, performed naked, of carrying sharp rubble across the big open prison yard, always cut my feet and today the guard had beaten them mercilessly when I slipped on the wet ground – Eric had told the guard to go hard on my feet - ‘a bit of bastinado will help the cunt learn his lesson’ were his exact words. I was now in agony standing in front of Eric who lent forward, grabbed my balls and punched them hard sending waves of pain right through me. I shifted my feet to keep my balance but moving was forbidden. On a nod from Eric, a guard electrocuted the tip of my caged penis and I fell down. I knew more shocks were certain if I stayed down so I struggled up again. It didn’t help. Eric said ‘Punishment Room later, cunt. It’ll hurt. You’ll regret moving when I’m talking’.
Eric continued his lecture with me now standing on broken glass: ‘Since I became governor, as you’ve seen, the boy has started training as a guard. He lives with me in a bungalow in the prison grounds. You’re going to live there too, cunt. Not exactly with us though. There’s a ridiculously small cell under the bungalow waiting for you. You’re going to spend every night for two years there. You’re going to hate that bungalow so much’, laughed Eric.
‘You’ll crawl to the prison each day for your normal hard labour and for punishments from me, the guards and the inmates – we're going to find ways to make your punishments worse in fact. For example’ Eric continued in his calm way as I stood shaking from pain, cold and terror: ‘I’ll still scrape the inside of your nasty dick with those steel barbs in the punishment room but I’ve noticed the wall of your urethra has started to soften so I’ll use slightly bigger barbs to extract bigger pieces of your urethra. You’ll scream so much when we use chilli to torture the places where we extract those little chunks. The boy wants to make you eat the little bits of penis-flesh that we dig out’, smiled Eric. ‘He said ‘make the cunt eat bits of his own dick’.
What do you think of that, cunt?’
I knew there was only one possible answer: ‘If that’s what you want me to do, Sir, I know I must deserve it, Sir. Thank you, Sir’.
‘The cunt’s shaking – I told it not to move – electrocute it again’ ordered Eric. The young guard reached down grabbed my balls, squeezed them together and cattle-prodded them. Then he held on to them for a bit to stop me falling
‘Your balls are already out of shape – they’ve been kicked, caned, electrocuted and crushed, especially by the inmates when you’ve been in the cock-and-ball pillory. My favourite is electrocuting them when you’re straddling our torture-horse. The boy wants to burn them a lot more – now he’s a guard, he smokes cigars and they burn harder and longer than cigarettes, so you can expect a lot of pain down there from him.
The boy wants to burn your nipples too – I've given him the go-ahead – you know what he’s like though – he'll probably go too far with them and they’ll start to rot so I’ll just have to slice off the nubs and then rip off what’s left of your nipple-flesh ...’
‘Your dick and balls won’t work properly ever again but I intend to leave them attached to your body, so I can carry on having fun with them. I like the mental as well as physical pain and humiliation you suffer when we torture your sexual organs. Do you deserve pain and humiliation, cunt?’
‘Yes, Sir’ I replied shakily. ‘I deserve everything. Thank you for thinking of these tortures, especially for my sexual organs, Sir. I appreciate it, Sir’
‘The boy and I are going to assign you certain duties at our bungalow – all of them disgusting or painful. When you’re there, you’ll lose your privileges, such as they are – no bed, no blanket, not even a bucket – you can sit in your own filth from now on – just a tiny bare concrete cell. Whenever we feel you deserve it, we’ll piss and shit in your cell, and I think you know how you’ll have to clean that up, cunt.
‘You’ll still get your good-for-you morning gruel and your pig-food twice a day – the boy’s training a dog and so you can guess what that means for your pig-food menu. He's also training the dog to attack you – he wants it to bite off a couple of your fingers and toes quite soon, but I don’t know when.
‘You don’t look happy, cunt, but that’s the way it goes. If you’d left me alone, you might be leading a normal life now. But you didn’t. Big mistake’, beamed Eric.
Eric turned to the guard: ‘Take the cunt back to its hard labour – spray some of the punishment-antiseptic mixed with pepper spray on its feet and knees – give it a few good kicks in the balls, beat its ass and, if it shits itself, make it eat its own shit – tonight, after the punishment room, me and the boy will take this heap of filth over to the bungalow’, said Eric. Then Eric got up and left.
