Date: Mon, 07 Mar 2005 08:42:35 +0000 From: Mark Bronson Subject: JOURNEY INTO NIGHT - Part 3 Copyright: Beastmaster42. This story is fiction. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. Comments to beasmaster42@hotmail.com JOURNEY INTO NIGHT CHAPTER THREE There were sounds of activity from the small office beyond the bars of our cell - clearly the police were getting ready for the day's work in court. I tried to turn and see what was going on, but he held my head fast, almost choking me with his tongue and saliva. Eventually, names were being called, and several of the prisoners moved through the crowd to the bars. The door was unlocked, they went out, and presumably went to hear their cases tried. My name was not among those called out, and I was disappointed: surely my name would be called in the next group. After an hour, the prisoners were marched out to the yard. At first I thought they had been released, but then I heard the sound through the window of a whip slashing naked flesh: each slash was accompanied by an agonised groan, quickly rising to a scream. After twenty lashes, there was silence (except for the laughs of the uniformed men who had carried out the punishment or had been watching it for their own amusement). The groaning prisoner was being led out of the prison (I found out later), and left, naked on the dusty road outside the gates (this humiliation being an extra punishment). Because he was naked and shaved and flogged, everyone would know he had been guilty of some crime or other. The process was repeated with the three other prisoners who had been called. I began to be sick with fear - would this be my fate too? My thoughts were interrupted when my 'possessor' turned me round, bent me over and, holding me by my handcuffed hands as before, shoved his big cock (now hard again) into my defenceless hole. Another man stood in front of me, dangling his smelly cock in front of my face. He stuck the cheesy thing in my mouth and began to piss. The hot, early-morning piss was foul and salty as it filled my mouth... I began to panic: what if my name was called, and I didn't answer? If I didn't go forward like the others, my case would be postponed... The thought of spending more time - God only knew how long - in this pigsty was more than I could bear. So, when I heard the names being called, I tried to pull away from the filthy cock pissing in my mouth (which was now beginning to harden). But a big hand held my head fast by the back of my neck as the swelling member began to fill my helpless mouth... Sure enough, my name had been called! I tried to get up, but with one cock in my shithole and the other filling my mouth, the only thing I could do was emit some hardly human sounds to let them know I was here... I opened my mouth as wide as I could to yell, but the hard cock inside it was simply rammed back to my throat, strangling my yell, and nearly making me throw up. I tried to pull my asshole off the cock that invaded it, but the cock just followed my hole, keeping it filled.... I heard the barred cell door being opened (I could not see it because of the naked prisoners' bodies crowding round me), then closing behind the new group of prisoners. This was horrible - if my case was not heard today, when would be the next time? The magistrate was a travelling one, visiting small villages and towns once every few months - I could be here for months, treated worse than an animal. I was so afraid, I began to piss myself as I was being buggered and headfucked, which just made my tormentors laugh. Once more, I heard the office door open to let the new group of prisoners out: once more I heard the floggings, the groans and the cackling of the officers in the yard. The only good thing in all this was that the cell was not considerably less crowded than it was, and I could see the office beyond the bars now, though with my mouth and hole filled, I could still not call my name. Finally, my two tormentors shot their loads into me, and my 'possessor' pulled me to my feet. He pulled me back behind the remaining prisoners and held me to him firmly. I turned my head round to plead with him: "Please... let me go..." I had tears in my eyes, and I was not sure whether he understood me or not, but he could guess what I wanted... He turned me round to face him and, as he did so, I could see over my shoulder that the magistrate had entered the office from the room that served as the 'court', accompanied by the inspector, and was on the point of leaving. If I called out to the inspector, surely he would do something about it... I opened my mouth to yell, but my possessor clapped a big hand over my mouth, gagging me silent. I looked tearfully into his eyes, pleading with my own to let me go, but he just smiled... and tightened his grip on my mouth. I stood helplessly, hoping the inspector would see me, but I could not know if he did, since my back was towards the office, and in any case the other prisoners crowded round us, so that I could not be seen. I heard the inspector bid the magistrate farewell, closing the door behind him. Then I heard footsteps approaching our cell... it was the inspector: my heart leapt as he barked some order which I did not understand. The other men moved aside and my possessor released his gagging hand and turned me round to face him. I walked slowly towards him as he spoke to me (I noticed he was carrying a cane): "Why you not come when your name called?" How could I tell him I was being buggered and facefucked at the time? "They - they wouldn't let me go... they..." I stuttered. "Magistrate come back in one month..." he said, smiling. Sure he knew what happened, and he did nothing to help me. "Please... get me out of here..." I pleaded. "Not possible. You must stay here till next court!" "But... PLEASE!" I begged, tears filling my eyes - but he just continued to smile... "At least take my handcuffs off - please!" He hefted the cane in his hand, slowly: "You not been caned yet?" My heart sank as I realised he intended to punish me like all the prisoners - a caning every morning! "Answer me!" he barked. "N-no," I answered. He smiled as he snapped his fingers to one of the remaining twenty prisoners. The naked man came forward, his head bowed. Two guards unlocked the door, allowing him to walk through. They took him roughly by the arms and dragged him over to the desk in the middle of the room, bent him over it and held him down. The inspector smiled at me once more and walked over to the prisoner bent over the desk, his buttocks towards us. His cock and balls hung down between his legs, which the guards had spread by each placing a booted foot inside and pulling each leg apart. The inspector stood to the left of him and raised his powerful right arm. Before the cane descended, he looked at me and smiled... Then the cane slashed down on to the man's quivering buttocks, leaving a thin red line on his helpless flesh (which was already crisscrossed with thin blue and black lines from his previous canings). A sharp intake of breath was all I heard: during the entire twenty strokes, he made no other sound - he was certainly tough! The punishment over, the guards stood him up and marched him back to our cell. I looked at him admiringly as he entered, and he saw me look at him. He looked back at the inspector and said something which I did not understand: the inspector nodded approvingly. The prisoner came towards me, pushed me to my knees and made me kiss his beaten arse, pushing my face into his stinking crack. I was humiliated in front of the inspector and the other guards, and felt ashamed and embarrassed. But I could not help but admire the way this man had taken his punishment, and kissed the welts on his buttocks lovingly, then licking his foul shithole. The inspector watched me intently, and I felt even more embarrassed - but I did not care so much now: I deserved to show my subservience to this tough man... Another name was called out - it was my 'possessor', and he went forward, held down over the desk as before, his legs spread and held apart by the booted guards. The inspector must have known that this was the man who had prevented me from answering to my name, because he gave him double the number of strokes, causing spots of blood to rise from the welts. He groaned from the pain, and I felt sorry for him, in spite of everything he had done to me. After forty strokes, the inspector turned towards me... "Come here!" The cell door was opened and I walked towards him, my heart pounding. "You see? I give him extra punishment for what he do to you! I am good policeman! I shall give him more!" My possessor groaned, and I realised I could not bear to see him hurt any more, however much he had soiled and degraded me... "N-no, it... is not necessary..." "Of course it is necessary!..." and with those words the guards tightened their grip on him in anticipation, smiling... "Please... I know I am nothing, a prisoner like the others... but I beg you..." and with these words I fell to my knees behind my possessor's beaten arse, kissing both buttocks, tasting the blood which had risen to the surface of the vicious welts the inspector had raised on his helpless buttocks... "... do not hurt him more..." - my voice trailed off to a whisper. The inspector looked down at me angrily - clearly I was interfering with his authority here: "Then I will give them to you instead!" My blood froze: I would get the customary twenty strokes PLUS whatever extra he was going to give my possessor... I looked into the inspector's eyes for some flicker of humanity, but his look was cold, and all I could do was look down at the floor. The guards released him to escort him back to the cell: for a moment, he looked down at me and was about to say something, but the guards hustled him away. I heard the door being locked again, then their footsteps behind me as they approached me. They picked me up by my arms (my hands were still cuffed), bent me over the table, spread my legs so that my cock and balls hung down for all to see. Since I was already handcuffed, it was not necessary for them to hold me down, so one of them went round in front of me and gripped my head, hanging over the table, between his thighs and pulled up my arms against their sockets. The inspector began... The cane whistled down, slashing across my buttocks as it had done the previous day, and I suppressed a scream. The pain was worse than yesterday - clearly the inspector was very angry with me for daring to interrupt the proceedings, and now he was going to make me pay for it. Again and again the cane slashed across my quivering buttocks, till tears filled my eyes and I was crying like a baby. After twenty strokes, he stopped for a breather. I continued to cry softly, with my face trapped between the uniformed thighs of the guard who continued to hold my arms up and back. I heard the inspector lighting a cigarette and smelled the smoke - it smelled good! He ran a hand idly over my arse, running a finger down my crack into my sticky hole. Then he fondled my exposed cock and balls till my cock - against my will - began to harden. Then I heard and felt him fiddling with his fly buttons, pulling out his cock - now hard from his enjoyment of my punishment and feeling my helpless arse and cock - and then pushing it unceremoniously into my open hole. He fucked me slowly, in front of the guards and the other prisoners, still smoking on his cigarette. He finished his cigarette, then gripped my hips with both hands and began to pump in and out faster and furiously, till he shot his load into me. He pulled out roughly, walked round in front of me, pushing the other guard away, pulled open my mouth and stuck the slimy, shitty thing into it... "Now you clean me!" I obediently sucked on the foul, stinking cock which had just been up my shithole, covered in spunk and shit. I thought I would throw up, but managed to keep control of my guts. He pulled his cock out, inspected it, then lifted it up and pushed his sweaty balls to my mouth for further cleaning. I could do nothing but lick obediently till he was satisfied, hoping he would be less severe in the last part of my punishment - but to no avail. He moved away, put his cock and balls back in his trousers, snapping his fingers to the guard to return and pinion me as before. I heard him walk behind me, and without warning he began slashing at my backside even more viciously than before... This time I screamed and howled as I was given another twenty strokes: I was not as brave as the two men who had preceded me. At last the caning stopped, the guard who had imprisoned my head between his thighs released me, and I lay for a few moments prostrate over the table to get my breath back. The inspector pulled me to my feet and turned me round to face him... "Magistrate come back in one month - You will be punished every morning like other prisoners..." I looked at him, the tears pouring down my face: "Yes Sir! But - I beg you... please take off the handcuffs..." But the inspector grew angry again: he slapped my face hard, right and left, shouting at me: "THEY COME OFF WHEN I DECIDE - NOT YOU!!!" then he nodded to the guards to take me back to the cell. I was pushed inside among the other naked prisoners once more, while another was taken out for his caning. I felt an arm around my shoulder - it was my possessor, and he spoke to me for the first time: "Me - Karl. You?" I looked up at him (he was much bigger than me), surprised: "Mike," I said through my tears. "Mike, you good boy. Now you MY boy - yes?" I blubbed like a baby now, overcome by his kindness, resting my face on his naked chest... I nodded my assent, unable to speak. He put his hand under my chin, raising my face to look at him. Through the sounds of the caning going on just a few feet away, I heard him repeat: "You MY boy - yes?" I looked him in the eye and whispered: "Yes, I am your boy..." I had certainly suffered for him and his recognition of this fact filled me with a kind of warmth. He pulled me further back into the cell, behind the other naked prisoners waiting for their caning. He held my face in his hands and kissed me on the lips, once more filling my mouth with his fat tongue. Handcuffed and naked as I was, I could not resist him any more: I sucked on the tongue of this man who had been punished for preventing me answering when my name was called, this man who had fucked me, pissed in me, made me lick his shithole and who now wanted to possess me totally. I had been punished for his sake too, and this established a very special bond between us - a savage bond, the uniting of two men in pain and degradation. My cock hardened as he continued to kiss me, twisting and pinching my defenceless nipples as he did so. It shocked me to realise he had enjoyed seeing me punished, and relished the thought that I was still handcuffed and defenceless, to be HIS boy... But I did not care - at least he had shown me affection, and would look after me...