Authorīs note: This is the rest of the story of TJ, born during some intense summer weeks. Iīm pleading with the eventual reader to bear with the language imperfections, English not being my native tongue. Hopefully thereīs someone out there who will enjoy reading this.
Due to technical problems my old e-mail address has been cancelled. The one above is OK.
It was really tough to get out of Step One. After I had what I thought of as my last whipping, I started writing letters like crazy. I didnīt have to do four pages a day anymore, but now and then I had extra assignments, like what my plans for the future were or what alternatives I could see to using violence and so on. The latter was really a smash hit. I mean, I was supposed to discuss pros and cons and finally come to the conclusion that itīs wrong to smack people around, while they apparently had taken the opposite stand. Anyway I felt strong and determined at this time. I worked on the letters for maybe eight hours every day, rapidly reducing the number of them. Ten days after my last whipping I was done. My butt had healed well during that time, I still had markings, but I was sure theyīd go away. I was allowed to see my poor ass in a mirror a couple of days after the ordeal. It wasnīt a pretty sight. Blackish welts and remaining blood crusts across a multicoloured background, from my buns down to my knees. I wondered if Iīd ever get my nice, pink and smooth ass back, or if I would have to go around looking like this for the rest of my life ("Honey, what happened to your behind?" "Oh, nothing, itīs just that I was whipped bareassed a couple of times some years back". Bet the girls would scream with awe not.). I hadnīt got rid of the _f_u_c_k_ing rubbers and woolies, either, and I was being shaved once a week. I couldnīt get out of there fast enough.
On Tuesday, October 6th, I was told that I would get transferred come Thursday. I was given cleaning gear and told to scrub the cell from floor to ceiling. I didnīt mind. I even hummed to myself while working. On Wednesday evening everything was minty and after supper I decided to go to bed and sleep off the remaining time.
The lights went out at nine and on at five oīclock. When you couldnīt sleep, the dark hours were a real drag, especially after I was allowed to read books. I tried to read by the bleak door light but got a headache from it. Anyway, I fell asleep before dark. In the middle of the night I woke up. My cell door was being opened. This had never happened before, and my heart started to drum. The door opened, but noone entered. Still in bed, I put my back to the wall and fixed my eyes on the door. There wasnīt much else to do.
"Apprentice! Get out of bed!"
I jumped at the sound. Apprentice? What the _f_u_c_k_ was this all about? If this was the beginning of the second step, Iīd rather stay where I was, please sir. Well, I got out of bed, not knowing where to go from there. I didnīt want to get near the door, had an ominous feeling about it.
" Stand with your back to the door and your hands on your head!"
Obediently, I turned my face to the wall and put my hands on my head. The skin on my back prickled.
"Back five steps towards the door!"
One, two, three, four, five. The witch is coming to get you!
I was grabbed from behind and my hands were cuffed on my back. Then I was blindfolded. There were at least two men in the room. One held me, the other was removing my pants and the woolies and finally, the rubbers were unlocked and off. Pants still partly around my ankles I was dragged to my bunk, made to kneel and then bent forward over it. Someone held me down by the neck. _s_h_i_t_, theyīre going to whip me, I thought. I had been promised to be left alone for a month, but I didnīt dare to open my mouth. I heard the door being closed.
"_f_u_c_k_ing clever little snake", the voice said. "Youīre going to get yourself a memento youīll never forget."
I rallied my courage and got out:
"Sir, permission to speak, sir."
"Denied. You just shut the _f_u_c_k_ up and take whatīs coming to you."
Something lukewarm and slimy fell between my arse cheeks. Someone grabbed my ass and started to force his penis into my _s_h_i_t_hole. I was being raped. Oh _s_h_i_t_, I was actually being raped! Still held down I tried to resist through tensing my anus, but he kept thrusting and poking, even using his _f_u_c_k_ing fingers, and it hurt like hell. Anger finally pushed fear aside.
"Let go of me! Get the _f_u_c_k_ off me!" I tried to kick him but couldnīt master enough force.
The one who held me down grabbed me by the hair and shook my head violently.
"Not so holy now, are you? Youīre a dirty manipulating full time con artist. Thought you were getting out of here in no time, didnīt you? Well, youīre still here. And the rules still apply. Another word and you wonīt be able to offend anybody again. Ever."
I clenched my teeth. I was not going to submit to being _f_u_c_k_ed by a man, no way José.
"Try this."
The thrusting stopped. A short pause. Then I felt something damp and pointy against my asshole. A sweet, spicy smell reached my nostrils, and the object started to make itīs way into my interior. I couldnīt stop it, it sort of sneaked in, little by little. Then there was an increasing burning sensation. I writhed to get rid if it, but that was all in vain.
"Lie still! This is an old Asian punishment for bad boys. When youīve had enough, lift your right leg."
I immediately did. The burning was getting worse with every second and I didnīt want to know how bad it could become. I heard a chuckle.
"Didnīt see anything, did you?"
"Nope."
I tried to push the _f_u_c_k_ing thing out of me by muscle power, but nothing happened. The one holding me down quickly shifted grip from my neck to my upper arms, leaning over me. I couldnīt move anything but my legs right now. The desire to spread them widely to ease the fire was irresistable and I finally did.
"Good boy. Thatīs what little Asian boys do, too. And then they have their asses whipped."
Before I knew it the thing was out of me and another manīs dick entered my ass, getting farther north with every thrust. It was painful and shameful and I didnīt understand what Iīd done to deserve it. I wondered if this was part of the treatment. I really doubted it.
It wasnīt long before I could tell from the sounds that my rapist was about to see the angels. Itīd soon be over, then. Much to my surprise and horror I was getting a hardon. Probably the moaning and groaning triggered some basic instinct. I prayed that none of them would notice.
The hard working guy behind me reached his heaven with a long groan and threw himself forward. He was a lot bigger than me, and I had trouble breathing with him weighing me down. It felt like ages before he straightened himself and got up.
"Iīll have him up here on the bed," the other one said.
I didnīt want any more of this, and I sure as hell didnīt want them to see what state I was in. Still, I had no way of defending myself. I was pulled up from the floor and thrown upon the bunk.
"Enjoying it, are you?" (I did not, I swear!) "Just you wait, punk, youīre in for a real treat."
My pillow was propped in under me, raising my ass slightly. My hard dick sank into the softness. I couldnīt help moving around a little, rubbing it against the cloth.
"Come on, then!"
I felt his _c_o_c_k_ against my asshole. It seemed a lot bigger than the first. I couldnīt get out of this, I had to endure.
The _c_o_c_k_ slowly entered my already sore backdoor. I gasped. It was like being split in halves. When he started _f_u_c_k_ing me, I nearly cried from the pain, but I didnīt want to satisfy them by doing so. Instead I bit down hard on my lip. About halfway through I felt his hand in my crotch, grasping my stiff penis firmly.
"Letīs get rolling, you little brat. Youīll have cum all over your bunk tomorrow. Try to make up another fairytale to explain that."
I felt a chill along my spine. Iīd never get out of here if I was accused of masturbating.
"Please, sir, not on the bed, sir," I pleaded. His grip on my dick tightened.
"You were told to shut up, werenīt you?"
And then he started working on my dick. He did a good job. Friends and foes, I exploded all over the bunk, just as he said, in handcuffs, with his _c_o_c_k_ filling my ass. Just when I got off he pulled me up, holding me against him with the other arm. I howled. I couldnīt remember Iīve ever had a more intense shoot. My dick was still jerking when he started giving it to me again, and I had to let go of my swollen lip and bite the sheet not to cry out loud. He went on for ages before he came, and even his getting off seemed to go on for ever. I was pressed down under him. I had my own cum rubbed into my face during his ride and it seemed to be all over the place.
When he was finished with me they left me on the bunk and the smell told me they had a smoke. I just lay there, my cheek against dampness, mixed up as hell. I kept bouncing between anger, shame and, well, relief, too. I also worried about what would happen to me if the screws noticed the stains in the morning. I figured theyīd put the rubbers back on me, though. I couldnīt be accused of masturbating with the rubbers on.
As it happened, they had thought of that. I was fitted with in a pair of rubbers with a faulty lock, had the woolies and pants put back on and my hands freed. The blindfold was taken off and I was ordered to stand in a corner with my face to the wall and my hands on my head, until I heard the door close.
I spent the rest of the night wide awake with a sore asshole and a black stone for a heart. I tried to wash off the cum stains with water and one of my socks, but considering the darkness I had no real hope of succeeding.
Of course the stains were noticed. Of course the faulty lock was discovered. What should have been my joyous last morning in that craphole turned out to be another trip to hell. I knew it as soon as the door opened and mr Trent came to inspect my cleaning job. I hadnīt come up with a brighter idea than to remove the bedclothing and fold it cunningly, and he made some stupid joke about it and shook it all out, then he exploded on me . I just stood there with my head bent low, debating whether I should come clean with him or not, and he took my silence as admittance of guilt and before I knew it I was on my way to the govenorīs office to get myself straightened out.
I hadnīt been outdoors for three weeks, and even the bleak October daylight was too much for my eyes. I had to squint as I was half dragged, half marched over the yard by mr Trent and mr Davies, my hands tightly cuffed behind my back. I was devastated. Yet worse was that I had no clue whatsoever to what I should tell the chief.
I was rushed back to day one when I was chained to the bench in the hallway. This time, I didnīt think of trying to escape, my thoughts were just spinning around in my head. I didnīt suppose anybody would believe the true story.
It wasnīt long before I was brought into the chiefīs office and ordered to get down on my knees in front of his desk. I stared down on the mat, cheeks glowing.
"Iīm very disappointed in you, Thomas Jennings", the chief said. "Mr Trent tells me you have been masturbating during the night, Is that correct? Look at me!"
I raised my head and tried to look him in the eye, but couldnīt. I had to focus on his forehead.
"Sir, I havenīt masturbated", I sad quietly, and one of the screws produced a sarcastic chuckle.
"So how do you explain the soiled bed, then?" The chiefīs voice had a nasty tone to it.
"I canīt, sir," I said. "Iīm afraid noone would believe me anyway, sir."
"Let me be the judge of that. Come on, boy, spit it out!"
My heart sank. I was tempted to say I had masturbated anyway.
"I was raped, sir."
A long silence. Too long.
"And who do you reckon did this, eh, raping?"
If I were to say Arnold Schwartzenegger or Superman, or both, for that matter, they might think that I had gone insane, and maybe that would save my ass. I wasnīt too keen on being put on the loonie list, though.
"Sir, I donīt know. I was blindfolded."
The chief turned to the screws.
" Were there any incidents last night? Any unauthorized persons in the building?"
"Nothing that was reported, sir."
"Any signs of breaking and entry? Go check that out, please, mr Davies."
"Right away, sir."
I heard the door open and close behind me. The chief turned back to me.
"I had a long talk with mr Jackson a couple of days ago and mentioned among other things that you were being moved to Step Two, mr Jackson is the head instructor there. He has read your papers. He said he doesnīt trust you. He is convinced you are playacting and that you havenīt changed much. A full time con artist, he called you."
I felt a hot rush in my stomach. Those were the exact words the mobile rapist team had used last night. I held my tongue, though.
"You did Step One in extraordinarily short time, the average being six weeks. I decided you were ready to move on, but apparently I was wrong. That youīve been masturbating is serious, but that youīre lying to me is worse. The only persons who could have molested you according to the facts so far are the two night warders. Do you want me to ask them to get here?"
"No, sir," I said and lowered my head.
The door opened and mr Davies came back.
"No signs of anything suspicious, sir," he said.
"Then the conclusion must be that you are lying, Jennings. Donīt you agree?"
"Yes, sir," I mumbled.
"Speak up!"
"Yes, sir!"
"You are getting severly punished for this, I hope you realize that."
"I do, sir."
"Was it worthwhile?"
"I guess not, sir."
"Whatīs that?"
"No, sir, it wasnīt."
The chief sighed heavily, then positioned himself behind his desk.
"Stand up!"
And I did. My heart battered angrily against my rib cage. Unfair! Unfair! it seemed to tell the world. But nobody listened anyway.
"You are to go through Step One all over again. You are to stay for at least three weeks. You will receive 20 lashes on the spot to remind you of where you are and what is the price of lying and disrespect. You will also receive 10 lashes every morning, except on Saturdays and Sundays, during the following two weeks, starting tomorrow. Any further disobedience will give you additional punishment. The points youīve earned this far are taken from you. Do you have anything to say before your punishment is effectuated?"
I drew a deep breath. I could have another go, but the odds were too bad.
"No, sir. Thank you, sir."
"Get on with it," the chief said to the screws. "Give him the full program."
Being whipped when somewhere inside you are feeling guilty of something is easier than being innocent and heavily punished for telling the truth. I let myself be strapped to the frame. I felt empty, drained of energy and life. When I heard the whip sing through the air tears began to flow, but I felt nothing inside.
"Are you ready to receive your punishment?" It was like an ancient ritual, and my answer was mechanical:
"I am, sir. One, sir."
Sssshhhh-thwack!
I was back where I began.