| Subject: The Prison Guard |
Author:
Stan
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Date Posted: 15:08:06 08/15/17 Tue
It was the height of the Great Depression. Many people were out of work. I was very lucky to have a good-paying job as a chauffeur. And it was an easy and pleasant job too. I didn't really know what my boss did for a living, but as long as I was getting a decent income, I didn't inquire.
Things were great until one time when the boss asked me to drive him and several friends downtown. He told me to wait at the curb until he and his friends had concluded their business. After I had waited for quite a while, I suddenly heard an alarm go off from a nearby building. Then I saw my boss and his friends running towards the car. After they got in, my boss told me to drive away as fast as I could from the area. I knew something was wrong, but I didn't dare ask. I had hardly driven 3 blocks when a police car stopped us with their guns drawn. They arrested my boss, his friends, and me. After they had taken us to the police station, I learned that my boss's occupation was "bank robber"! I was charged with driving the getaway car. I pleaded my innocence, but the jury didn't believe me. I was sentenced to one year in the state prison.
I was transferred by bus from the courthouse to the state prison along with a bunch of other felons. Right after we got off the bus, we were escorted by guards to the prison courtyard where we were forced to witness a current prisoner being punished. One guard took off the prisoner's shirt and then locked his hands into manacles attached to a vertical post. A second guard carrying a cat-o-nine-tails approached the prisoner. That guard then administered the punishment. After only a couple lashes had struck his back, the prisoner began screaming. It was a terrifying sight to watch. After about 10 lashes, streaks of blood appeared on the prisoner's back, but the punishment continued until he had received a total of 20 lashes. Then the guard dipped a sponge in alcohol and wiped the blood off the prisoner's back with it. As soon as the alcohol made contact with the prisoner's wounds, he screamed even more. I wondered what the prisoner had done to merit such a horrific punishment, but all I could find out was that he was being punished for malingering.
Prison labor was mainly used for road construction and repair. I discovered very quickly that prisoners who failed to put in an "acceptable" day's work found THE LASH waiting for them at the end of the workday. Such was the fate of the prisoner whose punishment I had witnessed my first day there.
One evening, I was in my cell when a guard came by and ordered me to go with him. I had no idea what the reason for it was, but another prisoner had warned me earlier that, in this prison, the guard's word was "law", and any inmate who questioned it risked getting THE LASH. The guard led me to an apparently unused part of the prison. He stopped at one door that had a sign over it that read "Interrogation Room". He opened the door and told me to go inside the room. He ordered me to take off all my clothes. Then he led me to a heavy table and made me lean over it. He tied my hands with thick cords to the legs on the opposite side of the table. The guard then locked the door to the room from the inside. When I looked up from the table, I noticed that on the wall in front of me hung a number of punishment instruments: cat-o-nine-tails, paddles, and leather punishment straps. Just then, I realized, to my horror, that the guard that was with me in the Interrogation Room was the very same guard I had seen flogging a prisoner in the courtyard the day I arrived! I was expecting to get punished any moment now. So I asked the guard what I had done wrong, but he didn't answer my question. He put a blindfold over my eyes. A couple minutes passed by in agonizing silence. Then he said, "I'm not going to punish you." Suddenly, I felt this warmth all up and down my back side. I figured out that the guard had taken off his clothes, stood right behind me, and pressed his body against mine. It felt really good. I let out an "Ohhhhhhh", expressing my pleasure. Then the guard said, " From the very first time I laid my eyes on you, I had this feeling that you preferred the company of other men. You know it gets very lonely in here for us guards as well as you prisoners." Then I felt this intense pressure on my butt as the guard penetrated me. I let out another "Ohhhhhhh". I no longer felt totally alone in this prison. The guard told me he'd bring me here again when he had the opportunity.
About 2 weeks later, that same guard showed up at my cell one evening and escorted me to the Interrogation Room once again. This time, he locked his handcuffs around my wrists behind my back and made me sit in a chair. Then he stood directly in front of me, put his hands behind my head, and then pulled it straight forward into his exposed crotch. He made me suck his cock, and he warned me that I better swallow ALL of his cum or I would get a taste of THE LASH! He had so much cum in him that I practically choked on it, but I didn't dare complain. He must have been saving it up for a week or more. It was obvious that this guard liked to "force" himself on me. I asked him why he had chosen to become a prison guard. And he answered, "I like to inflict pain on other men, and this job provides me lawful opportunities to do so. I am the only guard who volunteered to administer the punishment floggings in the courtyard." I was surprised at his openness in admitting that. It also worried me that he might take it into his head to inflict that pain on me at some point, but I kept that thought to myself, since I was handcuffed and all those punishment implements were readily available on the nearby wall.
The guard told me his name was "Joe". He was a couple inches taller than me. He had very broad shoulders and strong arms. I don't think anyone would ever describe him as "handsome", but I thought he was very "manly". He appeared to be a very quiet guy and not very outgoing, which was understandable considering what he had just revealed to me about himself.
Joe told me the Interrogation Room was occasionally used by prison officials and guards to extract information from prisoners, such as how they had managed to smuggle weapons or drugs into the prison. In this room, prisoners would be unofficially "tortured" using the punishment instruments on the wall until they revealed the required information.
About a month went by before Joe came to my cell again to escort me to the Interrogation Room for my 3rd visit there. As with my first visit, he had me strip naked and then lean over the table, after which he secured my hands with cords to the legs at the far end of the table. So I was expecting to get fucked again, but I'd soon learn that Joe's actions were never predictable. This time, he did something different. He forced me to spread my feet to the side as far apart as possible, and then he tied my ankles with cords to the nearest legs of the table. As a result, not only could I not put my legs together, but I couldn't lift my feet off the floor either. I wondered what he was going to do to me, but I wouldn't have to wait long to find out. Joe said, "I think it's time you had your first encounter with THE LASH. I told you last time that I enjoy inflicting pain on other men, Now, I'm going to give you a little taste of that pain." I panicked, but there was nothing I could do. I was tied down and totally at his mercy!
Joe walked over to the wall which held the punishment implements and removed a thick leather punishment strap. That strap was about 3" wide and about a foot and a half long. He then stood alongside me and said, "Now, you're going to learn what real pain is all about!" He began striking my naked buttocks with that strap. The pain was unbelievable. After only 3 or 4 strokes, I was hollering out loud. He suddenly stopped after giving me 10 strokes. He put the strap down on the table and began massaging my butt with his hands. As he was doing this, he told me, "While you're in this prison, confinement in a small cell and hard labor are only part of your punishment. The other part is being subjected to THE LASH whenever I feel it's necessary. I can subject you to unimaginable pain, but this time, I'm letting you off easy. I'm going to give you a good fucking instead." Then, because my legs were spread so wide apart, he encountered no resistance as he penetrated me again and again. Although I tried not to show it, I was getting really scared of Joe, and I was relieved when he released me and returned me to my cell.
Later, when I would think about that 3rd visit to the Interrogation Room, I was terrified what Joe might do to me when he came back for his next visit! However, I was beginning to have mixed feelings about Joe. Although I was still afraid of the pain he might inflict on me, I found the power that Joe wielded over me strangely exciting. I was surprised to find myself actually looking forward with anticipation to my next trip to the Interrogation Room. A month went by and I hadn't heard from Joe. I was getting kind of lonely for the attention he had paid me, even if it was only for the purpose of inflicting more pain on me.
Then, about a week later, Joe stopped by my cell to escort me to the Interrogation Room for my 4th visit. He had me strip naked, and then he tied my hands and feet to the table just as he had done during my last visit. So I was pretty sure I was going to get another whipping. He removed from the wall the same leather strap he had used on me last time. Now that I knew what to expect, I felt fairly confident that I could "get through" the 10 lashes this time, in spite of the pain I would have to endure. Then, he began punishing my sensitive buttocks with that strap. I counted each stroke to myself. "1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10." Then Joe stopped. I congratulated myself on having made it through the entire punishment without yelling. But I was surprised when the strokes did not end there. "11-12-13-........" I began to panic! It had taken all my will power to withstand those first 10 strokes. I begged Joe to stop, but the punishment continued on. The pain that was concentrated on my buttocks was beyond endurance. I cried. I yelled. But the pain just got worse and worse until I was screaming uncontrollably. Finally, after 30 lashes, the punishment stopped. I continued to cry for a couple more minutes. Joe told me I needed that whipping in order to learn to fear THE LASH and submit to his will. Joe took off his clothes and pressed his pelvis gently against my butt, but he didn't attempt to fuck me this time. Then he lay his chest over my back to comfort me. After about a half hour, when I had recovered sufficiently from the devastating pain, Joe released me from my bonds and took me back to my cell.
Several more times during my incarceration, Joe would take me back to the Interrogation Room. I could never predict whether he was going to punish me, have sex with me, or both. Often, there was over a month between his visits. I no longer dreaded the punishments, even though they were still painful. I just looked forward to being with Joe.
When my prison sentence was almost over, I got depressed. I knew I was going to miss Joe. I was surprised when he came up to my cell one evening and asked me if I had a place to stay when I got out of prison, and I said no. So when he asked me if I would like to stay at his place, I was overjoyed. I said I'd really like that. After I moved in with Joe, it eventually became a permanent arrangement. Joe became my "life partner". Of course, it goes without saying that he would continue to punish me. I had come to accept the fact that a relationship with Joe would involve punishment and pain. Because my body was "available" to him every night now, he did not feel the need to punish me as severely as he did when I was in prison, where there were long intervals between my punishments. Generally, he was satisfied with giving me a whipping on my ass once or twice a week with the heavy leather belt he wore with his guard's uniform. When it was not "in use", he hung that belt up on the wall next to our bed where it served as a reminder of my total submission to Joe.
After living with Joe for a while, I eventually came to the realization that he did not inflict the punishment because he thought that I needed it. Rather, it was because HE needed it. At the prison, other than the daily ritual flogging of 1 or 2 prisoners for malingering, Joe found that he had few other opportunities to administer corporal punishment as he had done with me in the Interrogation Room. So it was important for him to have those needs of his met at home. On the occasion of his first birthday after I had moved in with him, I offered Joe a very special gift. I gave him permission on that and all his subsequent birthdays to punish me with whatever severity was needed to satisfy him. So, on that first birthday, he removed from the Interrogation Room the leather punishment strap he had used on me there and brought it home with him. That evening, he tied me down spread-eagled on our bed, and then he whipped the living daylights out of me. He gave me 50 lashes on my ass with that strap, and he laid it on extra hard. Believe me, I was screaming my head off. "Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Owwwww! Owwwww! Nooooo! Nooooo!" Joe did not reduce the severity of my punishment just because we were lovers. He would subject me to the same level of pain as any other prisoner he had punished. I wondered if I had made too great a sacrifice for him?
Then, the following year on his birthday, Joe smuggled a cat-o-nine-tails out of the prison and brought it home with him. That evening, he tied my hands up with cords to an overhead beam in the garage and administered the standard "malingerer's punishment" : 20 lashes on the bare back with the cat-o-nine-tails. I didn't think I'd make it through that punishment! It was so intense. Then, just as he had done with countless other prisoners, Joe wiped the streaks of blood off my back with a sponge soaked in alcohol, and just like those prisoners, I screamed in pain when he did that. As terrible as it was, I was really grateful to Joe for giving me that flogging. When I was in prison, I had never received a flogging, and I was kind of jealous of those prisoners Joe had flogged, as they had shared an experience with him that I never had.
I would probably carry the stripes that Joe had put on my back that evening for the rest of my life. I felt they were an expression of his love for me. What others express with a gentle caress, Joe expressed with THE LASH. To show my gratitude, when Joe and I were at home by ourselves, I would often go around the house shirtless so he could enjoy his own handiwork. It was also a statement that I was proud to wear the stripes Joe had placed on me.
For the curious, I shamelessly appropriated the idea of a prison flogging for malingerers from the 1932 movie "I Am a Fugitive From a Chain Gang" starring Paul Muni. Everything else was a creation of my own mind. This story started out with the simple idea of a sadistic prison guard having his way with a prisoner, but I felt the story was going nowhere. Then I decided to let the story go wherever it wanted to go, and even I was surprised when it ended up as an S&M love story.
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