Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Inquisition: Breast Ripper

How sad it is when a member of the church has reached the depths of depravity and must be punished.

While my specialty and that of my mentor has always been the interrogation of apostate, rebellious and evil deviants, we have on occasion performed our duties for the simple punishment of the transgressors. Thus, we have used interrogation techniques and torture to the purpose of simply destroying the evil one, slowly and with much pain. This not only purifies what little soul is left in the condemned, it also serves to warn others of the consequences of giving in to evil ways.

In one such case in the Spanish town of Barcelona, there was a witch who had sold her soul to the devil and her body to men. When such men were seduced, she would frequently rob them. Very little was ever found of the money stolen, it was presumed to have been delivered to some coven of devil worshippers.

In the prison dungeon, we called for the condemned woman to be brought to the chamber we were provided. The jail master also wished to participate in this punishment, as the woman was exceedingly beautiful. Her hair was long and dark, falling as black shiny water over soft and white flesh of her shoulders. Lips full and red matched eyes dark and exotic. She was young, well below 20 years of age and still quite thin. She had been placed in restraints for the last two days in her prison cell, which she had shared with several other condemned women.

We heard her coming down the passage, as she scream and struggled against the guards. I could feel the power of her evil seductive spell, as my loins reacted to her witchery before she even entered the room. I determined that she would pay dearly for her attempts.

The heavy oak door was opened to reveal the woman, with a guard holding each arm. She was struggling, and her hair was wild as she jerked and pulled against their hold. The look in her eyes was one of terror. Her cheeks were wet from crying and her clothes were nothing but torn rags about her body. She was dragged in to the chamber, the door was closed with a loud thud, and her fate was sealed.

Her wrists were bound together in front of her then raised up in to the air to be placed on a hook. She was thus suspended in full view and easily accessible. Some struggling and movement was available to her, but a heavy weight was tied to her ankles. With a strong pull on the rope her arms were lifted high above her, stretching her body out taught as she ascended in to the air. The stretching power of her thin body was enhanced by the heavy weight tied to her ankles as it swung slowly below her dangling feet. She cried out in pain as her joints were stressed. Some movement was possible for her, but the straining weight pulling her down stretched her body out painfully and limited her struggles to small movements.

I moved to the woman’s side and slid my hand beneath her clothing. Her skin was smooth, and curved so nicely. Her stretched form revealed much, and I could feel her ribs under tight flesh. She was desperately casting her erotic spell on me, making me desire her, but I was determined it was not going to work. If it continued, she would learn what a true man would do with such urges and would regret the evil act she was attempting.

With one hand I gathered the shreds of cloth which hung about her and pulled hard until what was left of her dress tore and fell away from her body. I heard my mentor gasp as her naked body was exposed completely, and I appreciated it as well as I stepped back and observed her rounded breasts, thin waist and perfect buttocks. Her loins glistened in the firelight as she slowly rotated on the hook above her, a spell almost more than I could resist.

It was very hot in the chamber, and we all sweat like pigs, including the woman. Trickles of water were descending her flesh as we observed her swinging and jerking in place. Her hair stuck to her wet flesh, and the sweat gathered the dirt that covered her body and pulled it down in small streams.

The chamber was hot because there were several braziers with fire and coals burning. In each one was a spike, a ripper, or some other instrument which we would apply to this luscious body.

Before we began, I once again slid my hands over the perfect curves of her amazing form, stopping briefly at her nipples, and then moving on to appreciate how her muscles strained as she hung from the ceiling.

I gathered a set of thin metal spikes. The girl began to cry as I slid them across her sensitive breasts, letting her feel their sharpness and anticipate the pain they would cause. I gripped one breast, squeezed it tightly and observed a small bit of fluid squirt from it. With sudden force, I plunged the spike through it and pushed it through as she jerked. When it reached the other side of the breast, the flesh protruded tightly in a point until the spike poked through. The victim cried out and begged, and I also felt her erotic spell taking hold of me, arousing me between my legs. In response I took several more of the thin spikes and impaled her flesh through and through.

Another instrument was brought forward. It was a breast ripper, so called because it was designed primarily to grasp and tear the soft flesh of a woman’s breast. The ripper was shown to the victim, close to her face where she could observe its rough metal points. When she realized what it was, she cried out to Mary for mercy and began begging.

Her cries for mercy were quickly transformed into screams of agony as the ripper bit into her left breast. With a strong gripping action, the points dug deep in to her perfect flesh. With a single swift movement, I pulled down and away from her, ripping open the flesh. A large opening was torn in her left orb, and blood poured from the wound.

Before the screaming subsided, a second instrument was brought forward, a different form of ripper, and this one heated to a high burning temperature. As it penetrated her right breast, a sizzling sound was heard, though it was soon overwhelmed by the agonized screams of the victim. The points of the ripper quickly penetrated deeply, and with a twisting motion the flesh of her breast was mangled and torn. There was little blood this time, because of the burning of the hot iron.

There was the smell of burning flesh, and it filled the room. The girl swung, drool descending from her mouth as she hung her head in exhaustion and despair. Her bladder let loose as urine sprayed below her, spread on the dirt floor and down her legs.

A fork was produced. Yet a different kind of ripper, this instrument had several sharp and large prongs which were designed to rip flesh as it was drawn across a body. These were applied to the already mangled breasts, pulling, penetrating and ripping the flesh. Her chest bounced with her struggles and cries, which were continuous. She gasped for air to fill her lungs to scream louder.

The ripper was further drawn across her stomach, leaving raking furrows of blood and raw flesh. Blood streamed as the girl struggled, jerking back and forth, though her tied hands and ankles secured her and prevented anything but a useless straining. The ripper spread her flesh apart, revealing red and white flesh beneath. The torment of the claw spread across her body, digging deeply as the ripper was jerked hard to rend flesh.

Her struggles suddenly ended, and upon examination it was determined she had fainted. The opportunity to change her placement was taken, and her limp form was lowered to the ground. She was dragged to a table where she was tied on her stomach, arms spread wide above her, and legs also spread apart.

A bucket of water was heated, and then dumped on her. As the scalding water spread over her skin, burning her flesh red, she was revived and began moaning and crying out once again.

The opportunity was before me, and I took it. Opening my clothes, I produced my member and guided it into the suffering woman’s body. Her flesh was soft and enveloped mine most delightfully. Her struggles and cries enhanced the feeling by stimulating me even more as I pressing and penetrated her. I felt my climax welling in my loins almost as soon as I sank deeply the first time. Her sensual spell over me had been strong, but it was relieved as with a few thrusts deep into her and feeling her moist body stroking mine I felt the overwhelming climax come to me, and I spilled my seed within her.

The prison jailor then took his turn, her opening lubricated by my sperm within her. As he leaned over her from behind, I readied pincers and began applying them to her arms. As they crushed and penetrated her flesh, she screamed again, jerking and struggling. The effect pleased the jailor who was fucking her from behind. Apparently the pain applied to her was having the effect of contracting the muscles of her canal, and moments later with a loud cry the jailor reached his orgasm and then withdrew from the girl.

We quickly untied her, and turned her over on the table, retying her with her legs spread and arms above her. Another heated iron was brought, this one so hot that it glowed red. It was applied to her moistened and dripping pussy, boiling away the mixed fluid from myself and the jailor, and then searing the flesh inside her. She shrieked louder than ever as it penetrated, and her hips jerked and moved around franticly as she attempted to dislodge the agonizing metal poker. Her stomach worked up and down as she drew breath quickly to scream again,and her arms strained and pulled against the ropes, so much so that her wrists bled freely.

Heated branding irons were produced, but the girl fainted once again. Instead of reviving her immediately, we sat down to rest from our exertion and work, and had some wine and bread to strengthen us. Our work was difficult, but had its rewards. After a few minutes the girl moaned, moved and then suddenly screamed again as she became conscious.

The branding irons were shown to her, so she might understand what was happening to her body. They had some effect, though she was losing her mind from the pain and complete understanding was probably difficult. No matter, when the first iron was applied with a sizzle, her frantic screams showed she was fully aware of what was being done to her. The iron was pressed deep, leaving a blackened scar smoking on her shoulder just above her mangled breast.

A second brand was produced, and pressed against her stomach, which writhed underneath as the red hot metal tormented her flesh unbearably. She began to babble words, then scream with each new application of the brand, and then babble again. Her cries for mercy changed to begging to die, pleading with us to simply end her suffering. Her mouth foamed as the hysteria took her.

At last a special poker heated until it glowed red was retrieved from the fire. Her legs parted and held securely, this poker was placed between her buttocks. With one good shove, it slid in to her anus, scorching the flesh as it went, pulling hoarse, agonized screams from the girls throat. I pushed harder, feeling her flesh give way deep inside her as the probe slid in, burning and tearing the insides of her gut as it slid in.

Blood appeared between her legs, her entire body shook with a convulsion, and she fainted once again.

The torture had been two hours long. We decided to leave her to suffer in her cell for some time and resume the punishment later. Her bloody, torn body would serve as a warning and inform others in the prison as to what fate awaited them.

We determined that the best course of action was to wait until the next day, and then consign her to the gibbet in a public place to serve as a warning to others.

But… that is another story.

Saturday, March 7, 2009

Miss Brown is Incarcerated


"How on earth did you pull this one off?"

George shook his head. "Hey, Kev, you know my methods are secret. Let's just say I have a friend that new someone."

Once again, George has managed to get us in someplace that no one normally could enter. A tour through a Level 3 Prisoner Storage Facility.

We knew they existed, but what exactly went on in one was not publicized. Being able to get in and see first hand was going to be amazing.

"Damn... do you think they will let us take pictures?"

"Hahahaha... are you kidding? They will put us through metal detectors and strip search us first. You should be glad they don't force you to take the tour nude for security reasons."

We arrived at the storage facility a little late, and pulled in to a small parking spot.

"Are you sure this is the place?" I asked George. It looked like a public storage facility. A gate protecting against vehicle entry, and several rows of long, thin single story concrete buildings behind.



We were greeted by a single guard who led us in to a small office area where we joined the rest of the tour group. We were scanned for metal, and then told to follow the guide as he led us through the back door and in to the drive that separated the office from the buildings in the back. As we walked, the guard told the story of the facility.

"As you know, when the Fair Sentence Reduction Act was passed by the government in order to reduce costs and provide alternative methods of punishment for offenders, one initiative involved the radical reduction in prison costs. Level 1 facilities are traditional prisons, and still contain the majority of prisoners. Level 2 facilities have a mixture of compressed living space, automation and other initiatives to reduce costs. This facility is a level 3 facility in which the offender is incarcerated in high density, fully automated, low cost storage."

"Is there such a thing as level 4 facilities?" asked a rather pretty young woman who looked out of place in the group.

"Yes, the major difference being that while level 3 facilities are very uncomfortable because of the cramped quarters, we don't go out of our way to cause undue pain or discomfort. Level 4 facilities are ones where the prisoners serve their term in constant distress and pain because of various methods of torture and abuse which is common."

The guide continued to describe the history and automation behind the facility. A minute later we reached a heavy iron door in the wall of one of the buildings. He unlocked it with a key, revealing a long dark room inside. A smell immediately assaulted our senses; it was the smell of urine, feces, sweat, pain and despair.

Entering the building we waited a moment while lights were turned on and we could see the interior. It was shocking. There were two sides to the long building, with small cages stacked on either side. Each cage contained a person, squished and cramped in a squatting position, knees up in front of them. The cages were small enough that movement was essentially impossible. The cages were stacked 4 high, with the top cage almost touching the ceiling.

"As you can see, we can fit almost a 1,000 prisoners in this relatively small building. Our storage rate is about 2o times that of a normal level 1 facility, and further cost reductions are achieved through the reduced need for personnel. As you can see, because prisoners are permanently contained in these cages, there is little chance for escape, and because they are naked, there is no need for laundry, toilet facilities, feeding, dining hall, exercise rooms, etc. The entire facility, including the prisoners, is washed down with automatic sprayers once a day. The food bottles you see are replaced once ever two days. Other than these amenities, there is little reason for any support personnel."

There was a constant noise in the room, echoing moans and cries of pain. Some prisoners tried to reach through the bars for us, and some even cried out and begged for mercy, to be released.

"As you can see, the caging reduces the overall space required for storage. Because the of the extreme confinement, the cages cause an almost constant cramping for most prisoners. This lasts for the first few days, and the cries you hear are mostly from the newer prisoners. The pain can be excruciating, imagine having a charlie horse cramp, but throughout your entire body and being unable to move to work it out. It is actually quite cruel, which is why prisoner sentences are reduced significantly for incarceration in a level 3 facility. After a few days, the agony usually is replaced by numbness and a deep ache, and the mind begins to suffer more than the body. It is not unknown for prisoners to simply die here, because they give up living in their minds rather than face the continued close confinement."

As we walked down the hall, observing the naked flesh captured in the cages, George suddenly stopped... grabbed my arm... and pointed.

"Looooook!"

I looked, and saw a woman in a cage. Her cage had one above her, and two below, so it was about even with our eyes and my eyes immediately went to her exposed pussy.

George nudged me again, "It's Miss Brown!"

Miss Brown was our High School history teacher. One of the most beautiful women I had ever seen, I had nearly failed her class because of the constant erection I had. It was distracting. She had a propensity for getting in trouble with the law, though.

My eyes drifted up from her pussy to the flat stomach, beautifully formed breasts, and then her face. She was almost unrecognizable, her long brown hair was dirty and matted wet, stuck to her skin. Her face was dirty, and her eyes had a kind of dull look as she stared at me. Her body was sweating from the heat of the place, her shiny skin moving subtly as she tried to adjust position in the incredibly cramped space of the cage. It looked like she had some dried substance on her face, almost as if she had dried cum on her.

And yes, it was Miss Brown. Her hand slid down between her legs and spread the flesh of her labia. She began a stroking, stimulating her clit. Masturbating in front of us as she looked at us. I don't think she recognized us, in fact I don't think she knew she was masturbating. Her eyes showed little awareness. Mostly what we saw in her eyes was pain.

My cock was hard as a rock as I stared at the caged and nude Miss Brown, legs spread, pussy turned toward me, masturbating. I just stood and stared.

Finally, George grabbed me and pulled me down the aisle to catch up with the others.

We later learned that Miss Brown had been in the facility for 8 days; she had 6 days left of her sentence.





My jaw literally dropped when the judge pronounced sentence.

"Miss Brown. For the crime of hording money, not sharing with the needy and being generally self centered, for which you have been duly convicted, I sentence you to 13 months in state prison," the judge seemed unhappy as he was reading my sentence. I couldn't believe it. I hadn't really done anything, just kept an offshore bank account and failed to give the required 90% donation to the government. Sure, it was against the law, but the law was dumb!

A year of my life, down the drain, placed in some hellhole prison with icky women and lesbian guards. My shoulders began to shake as I cried from the horror of the situation.

The judge continued.

"Normally, I would provide you with the opportunity to convert your sentence to some form of corporal punishment, but the guidelines prevent me from doing so in your case. You have already swapped jail terms for public punishment twice, and the law proscribes such commutation a third time." He looked at me over the rim of his glasses as if he were truly disappointed that his hands were tied. The pervert would really have preferred to see me stripped and whipped in public, I knew.

"However... You do have the option of reducing your sentence by going from standard Level 1 incarceration to one of the less costly alternatives. Level 2 incarceration would reduce your sentence to 6 months... and Level 3 would be..." here the judge looked at some papers.

"Ah yes. Level 3 would reduce your sentence to two weeks."

My head snapped up as I heard that. I couldn't believe it. Down from 13 months to two weeks? I didn't know what Level 3 was, and I didn't care.

"Your Honor! I will take Level 3 incarceration!" I blurted out loudly.

My lawyer was too slow. "No! Your Honor, my client is not familiar with Level 3 facilities and the meaning of her choice! She is not informed. I need time to confer with her and explain these choices!"

A barely discernible smile was visible on the judge's face. "I am sorry, counselor. She has made her decision and announced it in court. I understand your concern, but regulations do not allow her to back out of her decision. If they did, we would be putting up with people shuttling back and forth between prisons. Her decision stands."

My lawyer seemed really upset, more so than I had ever seen her. What was wrong? What had she not told me? How could she be against a reduction in sentence from 13 months to two weeks?

My hands were cuffed behind my back and I was taken out the side door of the courtroom which led to the corridors and down to the holding cells. I had been there before, held awaiting corporal punishment, and the place reeked. I just kept reminding myself that I was on my way to two weeks in prison, that I wasn't going to be caned or whipped or shocked or anything else. I forced my body to relax as I stepped down the concrete stairs and entered the long, bare hall.

The guard pulled me into a side room, and told me to strip. I knew the drill, I was going to be cavity searched and then issued the standard orange jumpsuit. Unpleasant, but soooo much better than being flayed alive while being whipped in front of a large crowd.

I removed my top, and then bra. The feeling of the cold air made my nipples harden and my mind recall the humiliation I had experienced before. I kicked my shoes off and slid my skirt down. I stopped at the panties, and looked at the guard. She nodded for me to go ahead.

"But... can't I wear my panties under the jail clothes?"

The guard smiled at me, looking at my breasts and finally my mound under my panties. I thought she would be fondling me at any moment the way she seemed to be drooling over my body.

"Just do it," the lesbian barked.

My panties came off and I stood nude in the middle of the cold room, shivering slightly and feeling very exposed. The guard gathered my clothes and carried them off, locking the door behind her. There was a metal chair and table in the room and I sat on the chair. It was freezing and took a minute for my ass to warm it enough so it wasn't too uncomfortable.

The metal door opened and my lawyer came in. She looked at me sympathetically, and walked to the table, leaning on the edge with her arms crossed.

"Well, Miss Brown, I may not be able to help you out of this one."

"I am sure you did your best, it's not as if I am innocent. And the sentence seems reasonable," I was not happy, but still somewhat relieved that my life would experience minimal disruption for my legal indiscretions.

"That's what I am talking about, dear. You failed to let me negotiate with you, and now you are stuck with two weeks in a level 3 prison. Do you know what that is?"

"No..." I swallowed nervously.

"When the criminal reforms were passed to reduce costs and take a harder stance at social misbehavior, there was an attempt to minimize the amount of time prisoners spent in jail. You are familiar with the corporal punishment side of things - trading physical punishment and humiliation for prison time."

"Yes...."

"Well, at the same time, a new type of prison was created. One that absolutely minimized the amount of space provided for the prisoner, as well as eliminating the need for guards, cooks, cleaning staff... only the barest minimum is provided. Do you understand what this means?"

"Um... well, the place must be a cramped pigsty?" I thoughts I was beginning to understand.

"No, actually, it is usually quite clean. But it is accomplished at the sacrifice of just about any humanity you have left. I don't know the details of the place you are going, but it will be two weeks of hell. Not everyone in a level 3 facility comes out alive."

I gulped. I had really done it now. I was shaking from the cold and fear, and my hands instinctively covered my breasts and pussy.

"Now, I will do what I can, but any appeal will not be heard and resolved until your two weeks are up, so I don't have much hope. In the meantime, you will be taken to the closest level 3 facility, which I believe is the 27 Palms Detention Center. The best of luck to you."

"Wait... are they going to bring my clothes?"

She laughed, "dear... you won't need clothes where you are going. They will just take up space and make it harder."

My eyes were big and the tears had started streaming down my cheeks as my lawyer exited the room and the guard returned. She attached restraints to my arms and neck, heavy metal ones that held my wrists straight out in front of my neck. She then led me down the hall and out a back door in to the back parking lot of the courthouse.

As I walked across the parking lot I could feel the eyes of other people with court business as they stopped and watched the spectacle of a 27 year old woman being led by a guard, completely naked with wrists clamped in a metal brace that extended around my neck and out in front of me.

I was blushing furiously, but there was absolutely nothing I could do. An hour before I was dressed in good clothes, in a courtroom conducting business. Now I was a prisoner, naked and paraded in front of the public as if I were a pet. The asphalt paving was painful to my bare feet but I could do nothing about it. I hung my head in shame, but I could still feel the eyes of several people in the parking lot looking on with amusement and even a little lust.

We arrived at a van and the rear doors were opened to reveal a large, empty cargo area in the back. I climbed in, tripping and falling on the hard metal floor, and scrambled to get up to a sitting position. There was already another prisoner inside. It was a man, and he was naked as I was, wearing the same kind of metal collar and wrist restraint. I couldn't help but look at him once I sat down. He was a rugged guy of about 3o, with sandy hair and a really cute face. Whatever this prison was like, was going to be coed. It was as if our sexuality was of no consequence. Our status as human beings had been lost.

As we sat in the back and waited quietly, I found myself staring at the man's cock. It was steadily rising, becoming hard before my eyes. Looking at his face, I could see him scanning my naked body, taking in my ample breasts, hard nipples, and clean shaved pussy which were exposed because of my crossed legged position sitting in the van. I blushed horribly when I realized I was aroused; we were two naked prisoners, forced together in a van, waiting... naked... staring at each other...

The van started up. A guard was driving, backing up and then maneuvering the van out of the parking lot. He was in the front of the van which was partitioned off with metal from the holding area for prisoners; he couldn't see us as we bounced along in the back.

The other prisoner said nothing, but his erection got harder. I found myself getting slightly wet, as I examined his remarkable body and large cock as it got harder and harder. His foot slid over between my legs, and slowly slid up one of my naked thighs. Instead of calling out for help and demanding he stop, I found my legs sliding apart, giving him access. There was something about being locked up like this, going to an unknown prison, stripped of my clothes and dignity, that made me less than human, almost animal.

So when he maneuvered himself up, kneeling in the back of the van and coming toward me, I found myself rolling over on to my side like a submissive dog. When he reached me, I rolled on to my knees and pushed my ass up in the air. His cock began sliding against my wet pussy. His hands were locked together above his cock, but his hips guided it perfectly between my legs, letting it get wet with my juices until it slid inside me easily.

I moaned and pushed back against him, feeling his huge hardness fill me completely. What a fucking good way to start a prison term - having a good fuck from another prisoner. He shoved in to me, harder and harder, bouncing with the van as it drove. The rhythm was almost perfect, I spread my knees slightly farther apart to give him better access as he pressed hard, stroking deep inside me. I could feel an orgasm building inside me. I wished I could use my hands, but they were clamped firmly in front of me and all I could do was present my cunt for a good fucking.

I came loudly, crying out with the intensity of this orgasm. I had never had sex while in bondage, and it was an animalistic, wanton delight. It was the best orgasm I had ever had.

Moments later I heard him grunting and his thrusts became almost frantic as he urged his own orgasm on. He came hard, deep inside me, convulsing as he ejaculated.

After we were done we both collapsed to the floor of the van, never having said a word to each other. We lay facing each other, and I memorized his face. He was memorizing mine as well, along with the rest of my body. Our hands touched briefly as the van came to a halt and was turned off. The drive had taken about an hour and a half.

The doors to the van opened and we were dragged out. I was expecting to see a prison with barbed wire and guard towers but instead we appeared to be in what looked very much a self storage facility. Not very large, there were three long row buildings of concrete, each painted white with metal doors at the end. A single office area was at the entrance. There was no activity to be seen anywere.

A sign in the front read inconspicuously: "PS: Prisoner Storage."

We were lead by two guards to a large room behind the small office; this room was filled with various types of equipment, much of which made no sense to me at all. There were buckets and mops, sprayers of some sort, piping and what looked like a supply of oversized baby bottles. But one thing I did see that made me understand a little better was a row of cages against one wall.

The cages were made of some heavy metal, iron or steel, and looked almost rusted. They were small, perhaps three feet square.

The guard who had my restraints was looking at me and suddenly let out an exclamation. "Oh, that's disgusting. George, come here and look at this. Look at her inner thigh!"

The other guard came over, reached down and touched me between my legs. I took a deep breath as I was violated. When the guard withdrew his hand I saw what had drawn their attention. I was leaking semen from the other prisoner, and it was running down my leg. I swore at myself silently, thinking that would be the absolute last time I would ever fuck a stranger in the back of a van.

My guard said "Eh... its OK. I think we will just put her at the bottom. If she likes body fluids, she will get plenty."

They both laughed loudly, though I did not understand the joke. The other prisoner was shoved in to one of the cages, and his wrist and neck restraint removed. The door clanged shut on him and I could see he was huddled inside the small cage, his knees up against his chest, and almost no room to move.

Moments later the same happened to me. I was roughly turned away from a cage, then my head was shoved down, I was made to kneel and then pushed backward in to the cage. The door in the front was pushed closed and latched with a padlock. After I was secure, the wrist restraints were removed.

The cage was incredibly small. I could move only about 2 or 3 inches in any direction; I didn't even think about standing as there was no room to even shift my weight on my legs. I was sitting with my legs up against my breasts and arms around my knees, and that was about all I could manage. The bars of the cage allowed access to my body, but were too small to stretch my arms or legs through.

The cramps started immediately. My position in the cage was awkward to say the least, and the backs of my thighs were tightening with pain which radiated through my hips in to my lower back. I pleaded with the guards for a moment, asking for something, anything, a larger cage or some way to reposition myself.

The answer to my pleas came as a long stick with two prongs pressed against my left breast. As soon as it touched a sudden jolt of searing pain surged through the flesh of my breast. I screamed, jerked inside the cage and hit my head. The cattle prod was stuck through the bars once again, found my its way between my legs and felt as if someone had lit fire to my pussy. I screamed again and then swore I would be good; I would not do anything wrong, whatever wrong meant in this place.

Satisfied with my punishment, the guards left for a moment.

When they returned, one of them was driving a forklift. A large sliding metal door opened on one side of the room, and the forklift zipped in, and its arms slid between the bars just above my head and under the bars at the top. When it was completely in, the forklift whined and slowly lifted the cage, with me in it, about three feet off the floor. I looked below me, through the bars on the bottom of the cage, and saw the comfort of the concrete floor disappearing beneath me.

Without warning, my cage was whipped around as the forklift made a turn and darted from the room out to a small alley between two of the long low buildings. We drove down, the wind whipping my hair and freezing my body as we zipped along until we reached the end of the buildings. The forklift passed them slightly, then made a U turn and faced a large metal door in a building marked "C Block". The door opened, and the driver moved my cage and the forklift through the door in to a long dark room that stretch on for as far as the eye could see.

My nose was immediately assaulted with a strange smell that was a little like a doctor's office and a little like a port-a-potty. It wasn't strong but was definitely present.

My cramped cage rolled in to the long room, the forklift that carried it whining along behind. My hands gripped the bars in front of me, my toes curled around the bars below me, my back rested against the bars behind me. The metal was digging in to my flesh as the forklift bounced along and jerked the cage as we rolled down the room.

It was dark inside but my eyes adjusted to the dim light quickly. What I saw was enough to make me wonder if it might be possible for me to kill myself in this place. The narrow room had hundreds of cages stacked on either side, four high. Each cage had its own occupant, mostly men but some women. They all looked at the moving forklift with a kind of dull interest, except for some who appeared asleep, or dead.

There was sound in that long room as well. Cries and moans created a kind of background white noise that was sometimes pierced by a scream or the sound of someone yelling.

The forklift hummed down the aisle between the stacks of cages, and came to a stop about two thirds of the way down the building. There it backed up and swung around so I was facing one of the rows. I saw a place in the stacks where there was only one cage on the floor. My cage was manuevered in to place above it and then set down with a metalic clunk. The forklift backed up, its arms sliding out of the cage, and whirred away, leaving me squatting in my cramped cell.

To my right was a woman who was about my age with short blonde hair. She was leaning against the side of her cage with a blank look, though she turned and looked at me when I was set down. It appeared she had drool or something else covering her face, and she was dirty. I couldn't understand how she got dirty in the cage, but she was.

The cage on my left was occupied by a man, as was the cage below me. The man on the left was about 35, skinny in a very muscular, wirey way, and had stubble all over his face and head. He had been shaved bald when he had been placed in Prisoner Storage, it was clear. He looked at me, up and down, appraising my body and face. The man below me was a kid, almost. He looked to be 18 or 19, and had curly blond hair. He was looking up at me through the bars, and I quickly realized that he was looking directly at my exposed and spread pussy and ass, and there was nothing I could do about it.

After a few minutes the forklift came whizzing down the aisle once again with another cage holding the male prisoner I had just fucked in the van. It turned, raised him up and plunked his cage down on top of mine. I looked up, and sure enough... there was his ass, cock and balls hanging just between two of the bars not 6 inches from my head.

As the forklift zipped off, leaving us to our new home, I began to cry. My tears and cries were simply added to the general rumblings of moans and cries inside the hellish room.

The steel door slammed shut at the end of the long building after the forklift exited, and I discovered that there were no lights in the room. My eyes adjusted to a gloomy dimness that came from some narrow ventilation ducts high up in the walls. I was already sweating from the heat and found it hard to breathe.

"Oh my fucking god..." I cried out in the dark as the cramps from the tight cage started spreading across my back.

"Welcome to hell," the girl next to me said.

---------

I sat naked in the cage, shaking from the inability to move more than a few inches in any direction. Every part of my body hurt and I had become part of the moaning and crying that echoed throughout the prison.

At first, I had tried to talk with the other prisoners housed right next to me. It quickly because clear that they were not completely sane - the man on my left had been in storage for a month and babbled incoherently whenever I talked to him. The girl was a little better, she had been there a week and was still pretty lucid. She explained some of how the place worked, though there wasn't much to explain.

The man above me, the guy I had fucked in the van, talked some but he was dumber than some of my 11th grade students. His huge cock hung just above me, constantly erect. He asked me to masturbate him; I refused. An hour later, he asked again; I refused again.

Finally, the guy above me urinated. Given he was in a cage just above mine, I was totally soaked and jabbed at his cock and balls in retaliation. He yelped, and pointed out that there was nothing he could do, he had to go, and I just happened to be under him. He was right. And I realized why the girl next to me looked dirty - she was. She had been thoroughly defecated upon by the man above her.

It quickly became clear that when you had to pee or poop, you just did; and whoever was beneath you paid the price. I was actually lucky - I only had one person above me. 1/4 of the prisoners had three people above them, and they got some of everyone's feces.

It also became clear that there were four basic activities that you could do in this prison of cages. You could urinate or defecate; you could eat; you could talk; you could masturbate. There really was nothing else to do.

I learned to urinate and defecate like an animal, just letting it loose whenever I felt the need. The guy beneath me protested, and I ignored him.

Talking was OK, though most of the prisoners near me were either not able or not willing to talk. The girl next to me talked some, and I learned a little about her. We became friendly, and even touched through the bars some, which was easy to do as we were only about 6 inches away from each other.

Eating involved the large baby bottles I had seen stored when I first arrived. These bottles were filled with some sort of brown, slimy liquid that had a slightly sweet taste. They were fitted through a hole in the cage bars and left there for us to suck like hamsters.

Masturbation... ah, masturbation. We had a few choices there. I discovered that with a little effort, I could adjust my hips so that my girlfriend next to me could reach in and play with my pussy. It was a strain, but worth it. There was nothing to do, and having someone stroke you to a climax beat staring at the wall in front of you. We took turns, developing the technique, learning each others sensitive points. She had larger breasts than I and was able to lift them to my mouth and I was able to suckle her while getting her off with my hand in her cunt. My breasts were too small for this, and I made do with her hand skills which were good. She knew how to stimulate my clit with her thumb, my cunt with two fingers, and the little finger wrapped in to my ass. It was the most amazing feeling. She could make me orgasm in less than a minute.

Once a day the sprinkler system was turned on - a huge spray of water flooded over our bodies, running across the cages, washing away the filth that had gathered during the day. The water was mixed with some sort of sanitary disinfectant and when the strong spray completed the washdown, the place was reasonably clean.

Eventually I agreed to jack off the guy above me. I was able to reach up and take his cock in hand, stroking it to hardness. It didn't take long before he was rock hard and convulsing, semen spurting from the tip of his cock and gathering in little pools on the bars of the top of my cage. Some of it got on me, of course, but by then I had lost all pride and was more animal that woman. It mixed with my sweat and trickled down my breasts.

Masturbation seemed like a good idea, and I learned to pace myself. I masturbated about once an hour, that is my best guess because of the number of times I did it during the daylight. I was certainly not the only one, there were men and women that handled themselves and the moans of pleasure mixed with the moans of agony in a seamless cacophony.

As the days cycled, the constant pain of the cramped quarters began to tear at my mind. I remember crying once, and discovering I was babbling something. Words, I don't remember what, but I had been just rambling on about some kid in my childhood while I sobbed. The pain was worst in my legs, especially the backs of my thighs where the cramping was severe. My lower back was in constant pain that radiated outward across my chest. Some small movement was possible, and I would writhe in the cage for hours trying to find a way to relieve the pain.

Eating from the bottle was something to do, it didn't stop the pain but with no real movement and nothing happening around me, sucking on that rubber nipple was very comforting. Jeanette, the girl next to me tried to play some word games just to keep us sane, but it was a losing battle. Time dragged on, broken only by the occasional defecation or urination from the idiot guy above me.

Masturbation would have been more of a distraction but I was sore from the constant rubbing. I took to doing the guys around me as best I could. It was hard to reach in to their cages, but if they cooperated I could get a hold of them and get them off pretty well. It was fun sometimes, I played games like trying to guess when they were ready to cum and then stopping just before.

All in all, time in the cages was deathly dull, and my entire body screamed out with pain from non-movement. I alternated between crying, trying to move into new positions, talking with the girl next to me, masturbating, drinking from the hideous bottle, sleeping, and defecating on the guy beneath me.

Someone would come in to the storage facility once every couple of days and replace the bottles. Other than that, we hardly saw anyone. What little care was given to the prisoners was automated. Otherwise, we were caged animals, compressed in to tiny cages so small we were in constant pain.

After a number of days, I remember a group of people coming through. By then the agony of being locked in complete immobility was overwhelming, and I cried and whimpered almost all of the time. The door opened at the end of the building, letting the noontime sun in; the usual cries and pleas for mercy rose from the prisoners. I was one of them now, crying out, expressing the pain of my legs, my back, how my shoulders were numb and my mind was slipping away.

There were about 20 people in the group, and they walked through as someone talked to them, explaining about the cages, the prisoners, the environment. I couldn't listen, couldn't hear, I just sat as they walked by, cried out once and then watched as they passed by me with no more than a glance.

When they left the building, the darkness descended once again and I lost all sense of humanity and time. I was simply a bundle of agony, waiting to die, praying to die.

The girl next to me had lapsed into silence, drooling profusely over her chin, neck and breasts. She no longer reached out to touch me, stimulate me or bring me to climax. The guy below had stopped complaining whenever I relieved myself on him. He might have been dead for all I know. The guy above me constantly asked for me to play with him, squeeze, pull, stroke, anything to distract him. I ignored him, no longer able to move.

They say it was two weeks when the forklift came to get me. I can't deny it, though it seemed like years to me. It lifted the guy above me off, and then pulled me out. The guy above me was replaced where my cage had been, and then my cage was lifted and we rolled out. The movement aroused my mind, and while my body refused to move, my mind began to anticipate being outside, and finally release. It was hard to imagine, being free of the cage.

It came though, the moment when the door was opened and I fell out on to the concrete floor. My muscles had atrophied, unable to move. Most of my body simply felt a dull ache, until I spilled out of the cage and I screamed with agony from my protesting muscles. The two guards forced my legs out of their rigid fetal position, and then stretched my arms out. It hurt like they were tearing my limbs from my body, and I must have screamed like it they were.

Once last indignity, before they released me to a couple of medical techs for recovery. I was unable to move, and they took advantage of it. The guard who had pulled my legs down spread them wide, and then lowered his pants. He slathered some jelly on his huge member, lowered himself over me, and slid in.

I lay on the floor, completely naked, and unable to move, as he pushed and strained and thrust his way to an orgasm. It actually felt rather good, after so long in the cage, to experience some "normal" activity, even if it was rape.

When he was done and the medical techs lifted me on to a gurney, I lay looking at the ceiling, wondering how I was going to get the money from my offshore account, and whether I might be able to use it to open a level 3 prisoner storage facility.

It must be an incredibly profitable venture.