Date: Sun, 03 Jul 2005 09:11:46 +0000 From: Mark Bronson Subject: JOURNEY INTO NIGHT 16 JOURNEY INTO NIGHT - CHAPTER SIXTEEN By beastmaster42@hotmail.com Previously... As I looked down at my shaven, ringed branded and beaten body I knew that somehow this was my destiny, my place in the natural order of things. I also noticed that there were rings set into my leg and wrist irons, and the front and back of my collar - clearly this was so that I could be secured in various ways, depending on what pleased my inspector or the men who would have charge of me..... The Inspector snapped his fingers at one of the guards and nodded silently... The guard produced a heavy padlock and came towards me, as did the Inspector. The Inspector cupped my chin in his hand and raised my face towards his, while the guard pulled my arms behind me and snapped the padlock through the rings on my wrist irons, once more locking them behind my back. The Inspector pulled down my jaw and spat in my mouth again, to show he was pleased with me. He released my jaw and I swallowed his spit gratefully. Then he grabbed my nipples and twisted them viciously, looking straight into my eyes and smiling. My face contorted in pain, but I did not resist him (what good would that have done anyway?) as he twisted them first one way, then the other. Tears came to my eyes as I looked into his - it was a silent pact between us: I would be his possession for ever, pain and degradation would be my lot, purely for his pleasure, which would be my only purpose in my worthless life from now on... to give him pleasure. As a man I no longer existed; my body belonged to him, my existence one of suffering. We exchanged these thoughts in silence - oh yes, he was thinking exactly the same thoughts as I was as we looked into each other's eyes. My reverie was broken when the Inspector turned away, again snapping his fingers to one of the guards, who then dragged me over to a horse and cart, motioning me to climb on at the back. This was a bit difficult to do, with my wrists locked behind me, but I sat on the rough wooden boards, then swung first one leg, then the other up, so that I was 'on board'. The owner of the cart (a farmer, as I was soon to discover) then grabbed me under my armpits and pulled me further into the cart, scraping my beaten arse along the rough wooden boards (which in turn made sure I got a good few splinters in my tender flesh). My leg irons were locked together and a chain put through the ring on my collar, which was then padlocked to a ring in the floor of the cart. Clearly, there would be no escape for me... The farmer and the Inspector exchanged a few words, then the farmer took the driving seat and with a crack of the whip, the horse moved on with its sub-human cargo. As I was to discover later, farmers in this region often made a deal with the prison to send them prisoners to work on their farms when they were short of manpower. The Inspector made a modest, but steady income from this trade in human flesh. I belonged to him now, anyway, so it was only right that he should be able to dispose of me as he saw fit. The cart rumbled on through the dusty countryside, the sun beating down mercilessly on my naked, shackled body. I felt somewhat embarrassed - after all, it was one thing to be naked in a prison to the full gaze of the guards - but it was another thing to be naked in front of an ordinary man from outside... The embarrassment would be even worse when we arrived at the farm, no doubt. After a while, I grew very thirsty, and asked the farmer for water. He looked round at me, then turned away again, ignoring me. After another half hour, I desperately needed to drink, as the heat was so intense. The farmer looked back at me again, then pulled on the reins and stopped the horse. He stood up and climbed into the back of the cart and, without any ceremony, planted his filthy boots on either side of my shackled legs with his crotch so close to my face I could smell the sweat, dried piss and spunk from his long-unwashed cock and bollocks. He unbuttoned his flies and pulled out his gnarled and thickly-veined cock. He pulled back his heavy foreskin and aimed the stinking, cheesy head of it at my face. I opened my mouth and drank gratefully as a heavy stream of his stinking piss (it was very, very strong) landed on my face and into my mouth. I had grown used to being a toilet, so if this was the only way to quench my thirst, I would be thankful and drink without complaint... A few spurts missed my open mouth and ended up on my face and chest, dripping down to my ringed cock and balls. As he pissed, he farted a couple of times, but mercifully I was saved the horror of having my face shoved into his filthy crack to get the full benefit of them in my mouth and nose - for now... The farmer stuffed his filthy cock back into his equally filthy trousers, and without a word returned to his seat, cracked the whip and we proceeded on our way again. I realized from this episode that farmers who took on prisoners to work on their farms were used to treating them exactly as they had been in prison - as toilets, lumps of flesh that were less than human, to be used and abused in any way they wished, that was what they paid for, after all. I did not fancy the idea of getting on the wrong side of this man - he was very big and heavy and any whip wielded by his big fists would do terrible damage. He was big in every way, I thought as we went along - big fists, big feet, big thighs, big ass, big cock, and all no doubt unwashed for God only knew how long. Used as I was to the stink of men by now, I hoped that the farmer would not be using me for any other purpose than working in the fields... Slowly, the cart wended its way along a dusty track, far from any normal road, deeper into the rocky, moon-like mountains of this region, with no sign of life anywhere. Finally, I saw a small, white building in the distance, and it became clear that the track was leading to it - this was the 'farm' where I would be put to work. The track wound up towards it - it got rougher as we neared the building, and my beaten buttocks, with the numerous splinters stuck in it, kept reminding me of the pain to which I would be subjected for the rest of my worthless existence. We finally arrived at the low, white building after an interminable climb up along the rough track, and the cart came to a halt. The farmer's piss had dried on my body and face and I stank in the heat. I was again dying of thirst, but I did not fancy another gallon of the farmer's stinking piss, so I kept silent... He got into the back of the cart, and unlocked my ankle irons and the chain from my collar. He pulled me to my feet by the chain through the rings in my nipples, which elicited a groan of pain from my parched mouth, and pushed me towards the back of the cart, from which I had to jump down. It was not easy with my hands shackled behind me, and I fell over in the dust when I landed.