Disclaimer: This is a fictional soap that contains tales of graphic homoerotic control and authoritarian domination. These may not be legal in your area or you may be under age. If so, or if the material is likely to offend, please leave now.
Chapter 5; Revenge
I study our potential `a' again. He and #158 were actually laughing with each other, enjoying their images on the teve. It did not bother me but Hemming slapped #158's behind hard and they stopped. He eats a bit more with the prisoners then orders them to finish, looks to me. I better get their trial over with. "I am the magistrate in these parts for the Private Regional Institution for Correction Corporation. They won the contract to make people like you of value to our community," I inform the accused. "Officer Hemming I would like you to reconstruct the arrest scene."
Ted folds back a wall that gives privacy to my office's en-suite. The shower area had robust fitting for bondage enactments. There is a solid vanity case with a large, cracked mirror. The toilet bowl had a waist high cistern, there is no pissoir. The hardness of my meat is beginning to make the cockbox of my leather pant's feel like a cock-cage. I unzip the fly that went down its centre as I swivel in my chair I get a good side on view. Cams do other views. I like to play with my cock as I watch stuff like this. What I am doing is obvious to our new prisoners so it helps me ascertain how cooperative they will be, how easily they will settle in. The reenactment of the morning's arrest needs to be more depraved than accurate. Hemming pulls #158 to the bowl (exhibit I) slapping both his buns with hand as he does it. He ties the con's arms with rags (exhibit II) to the cistern's pipe.
"Both were naked when I arrived in the loo. Don't know what they got up to before I arrived. The stud had the he-bitch tied to the cistern's pipe using the slut's own t-shirt, like so." Hemming innovates as he finishes tying #158's wrists. A couple of loud slaps echo through the office and #158 taillights are flushed red, begging for co-accused cock. "Are you suggesting the fuckee was not willing," I ask? "Nar he was right in to it; presumably the instigator." "No doubt. Alright prisoner #159 show me how you buggered this bum-boy." I fondle my hard phallus as I watch first the lad's annoyance at being manipulated or maybe a doubt that he could perform dissipatedly in public. But this dissipated as the dimensions of his donger massively multiply because of the hot juicy arse wriggling invitingly in front of him. He is soon humping hole to relieve the fire of his bloated boiler.
I love the vid-relay that takes the office-bog-fuck from the other side. My gonads are in the monitor's top-right corner, my hand getting their rocks off. I edge but wait till our new big-buck blasts butt. "Fuck-yeh" he explodes, so, I pronounce sentence: "You both will be remanded as the property of PRICKorp. Your treatment will...oh...," I edge close, stop wanking, "heheme, depends upon how you cooperate." I pump my prime pelvic protein on the pure power of punishing pulchritudinous punks. I watch my cum blast both live and vid. Ted's a disheveled mess of britches on boots, spunk splat, funland face. The convicts are in embrace over bog-bowl. A phone is put through, it must be important. "Day Renal," I pant. `Thax for the background chief. I returned to beach and parked my ute close to their van, though not obviously if you are coming from the beach I get out wearing my police boots, boardies with my top bod bare." I can see Renal has got right into his undercover role. "I took the chance with the boots because I carried no other weapons but my flick knife. Besides, I guessed the bitch boi would be turned on by me wearing them.
"Max" I introduce my self "they call me The Max."' This is not officer Renal's first name, nor his nick name. That is Raptor', for good reason. "Jon...J...Jonathan," the youth splutters, eyes on my crutch rather than my face. "I past ya earlier on the way to my wheels from the surf." "Yeh, I know," he admits. "Shit man, why aren't ya out surfing?" "I'm not all that good. Why aren't you out?" "Thought there may be more interesting tubes to explore onshore," I say smiling, "like a drink?" "Yes please, sir." The sir' throws both of us for second but I ignore it and he goes back to being domestic while go to my ute and bring back half a slab of beer. Jonathan is chuffed. The first beer is downed by him instantly. The hesitant youth turns to the gregarious boy, wanting company, happy to talk as he glugs down a second beer.
"We've got crisps and biscuits," he offers. I accept and he goes into the van. I follow in time to see him throwing a blanked over an assortment of sex-toys. He looks me in the eye for a long time for the first time as I hand him this third beer. I kick the blanket aside and he become demure. He kneels at my boots and runs his tongue up them but when the tongue touched the flesh of my thigh and his hand goes to the velcro of my fly, my backhanded fist had him out sprawled on the floor. Shit ya know I am straight. Ya know how I hate that shit.' Renal, the Raptor', straight? Hardly, but he is married with kids and Kate would leave him if he looked at another man or woman sexually. But that does not mean he cannot deal with the punks we work with, forcefully. The do-gooders might say, sadistically. As he is no homophobe, he has a special place at my PRIC. Gil and Renal and myself are the enforcers in this establishment though Steel and Ted are, like all PRIC officers, expected to use force should a prisoner be disrespectful or get attitude'. Renal has sent through some phone footage of him piss-boarding' Jonathan which is typical of his interrogative ingenuity.
The van has a high-top that extends up on pylons. Raptor hangs the he-bitch upside down, by ankle shackles from one of the pylons, boadshorts are off, up, tight around his knees. His shoulders rest on the floor, as do his arms that are tied together behind his head with a piece of rope that also chokes his neck. He has used the sex toys inventively. The youth's t-shirt has been dragged up to cover his face. A hole has been cut in it at his mouth, a 30 mil. circular bit held it in place and also keep his mouth open. Raptor takes the phone-clip one-handed as he used the other to drink his beer and on the kid, encouraging him to confess. The cam's perspective makes the lad's body recede towards his head and mouth drain. It makes his miserable prick dominate the top of the screen. It is hanging down but sticking out hard at thirty degrees from his shaved pubes. The only part of my officer in frame is his high leather boots on either side of the suspect's veiled head, ensuring it does not move.
The interrogation starts with beer tipped from an on-high can, off screen. It falls into the prisoner's oral orifice or splashes about soaking the cloth covered nose and head. I can follow little of the questioning due to the quality of the recording device, the obscene tirade Raptor combined with his questions and the he-bitch's gag-bit. I can see it is not going well, mainly because this is a piss-pig. The vid centred on his mouth and it looks like a sink as the flood of beer drained into him, even though be is upside-down. With a throat like that he must give great head. Renal ratchets up his responses. The amber fluid in the next clip is obviously piss that had gone through the Raptor refinery. It froths more than the commercial piss.
It is even more greedily received by the wee-whore. The Raptor's exceptional skills are displayed in the next couple of minutes.
Till now the wee-wimp had managed to control his bladder, no doubt the stiffy helped, but the taste of PRIC sanctioned piss is enough to initiate a personal nitrogenous deluge that that same stiffy sends in a neat arch towards Raptor. Errol Flynn style, Raptor rapidly alters repartee to rap rhythmically with the rake's rivet's rivulet. Renal laughs as the force of his piss diverts the punk's piss in a splatter descent, most ends helixing into the gapping jaw, much further drenches the slash-slut's improvised hood, some splatters Renal's boots. There appears to be a growing puddle on the floor when the vid cuts. `"OK chief. As ya can see I got nothing from this sow of a masochistic/mother/ father/fucker. I just kept turning him on. I mean to wait till his buck turns up. In the mean time this slut can lick my boots clean. Report back soon."'
Hemming has already removed the prisoners by the time Renal cuts-off. I follow him on monitors, taking them to the showers. The details of prisoner #157 arrive via prisoner #145. #145 wears the penitentiary attire: jump suits made from a crimson stretch blend. He is, like #158 a designated c', catamite, he wears the zip, in the tight one piece, to the back. If he has underwear it would be a jock-strap. The same gear is worn by an a', authority potential' or a b' butch'. They wear the zip to the front, do not normally have leather collars. The hierarchy of the prison is well illustrated on the screen. Hemming needed a shower too so he is stripped and the pom-c' #148 is soaping him. A b', #141, is mopping nearby. I would define a b' as a man who if ya knew him he would be a friend or an enemy you would respect. Given the limited nature of my PRIC most `b' I look after are mates who did stuff I might do anyway though I would automatically get away with it: traffic, drugs, sex. Gunna, #141 is a cobber.
Gunna would know from just looking that #158 and #159 that they are respectively a c' and b'(a' potentiality he would not bother about). Even in the shower #158 still wears his collar while #159 is without. Prisoner #145 leaves as I glance at the file he delivered. There is a picture of prisoner # 157, alias Freddie, the d' deigrade' classification is ticked. I search for #157 on my monitors. I find him strapped to a X' bench in the infirmary. Gil, who has already shaved his body, is fitting his d' attire. The attire of such fuck fodder may include a harness, shackles, choker chain lead, metal is always prominent. I am proud of the innovative abdomen wear. I won an award developing it. It is all a d' normally gets to wear at my institution and is now widely accepted by PRIC establishments throughout the state. A cock cage is fitted to hang off their prick and peas by a tight cock ring. Gil is fixing this as I watch.
Prisoner #157 screams like a girl as an industrial clamp pushes it way between his spread-eagle legs. It looks like a jack hammer but instead of a bit it has a vagina-dentate clamp that could castrate as readily as it rings his nuts and bolt. The cage can be removed but not without an ulta-sound, flesh sensitive, surgical grinder. The cage can tract, massage, shock and monitor the `dirt' but it needs power. Gil attaches the power pack in the shape of a butt plug that hangs from a 150mil cord. The plug can be rectally carried or can, to the dirt's genital discomfort, hang off the cage. The cage or butt-plug can massage or shock in unison or separately. The cage also monitors all penile emissions, important when training slut-slaves. Next Gil fixes a small Prince Albert that links his prick to its cage. It keeps 10 mil of the dirt's piss-slit extant for hygiene reasons and gives him a he-clit. Gil finishes the processing by tattooing the PRICKorp logo on his left arm and #157 on his right. This is done effortlessly via two ready made tat-brands.
Gil is slapping gauze on the arms as he rings up to ask me to test my remote control. It all centres on a control board on my desk. The tracking is Wi-Fi within the PRIC, GPS outside. I zoom the cam in on a view of #157's face. Normally I take my time with this but I am so busy. I flick a switch to deliver the dirt's prick a pleasurable sensation, though the inability to stiffen must hurt. I emphasize the pain of his thwarted erection by a number of harsh shocks delivered to the cage. I watch the dirt's countenance show pleasure, strain then pain. His pinned body spasms then writhes as I turn a dial half-way to a permanently disabling shock. I turn my attention to the plug up his butt-hole. I massaged his butt shaft, tickled his prostrate. Gil stands back. It took me a couple of minutes to get his dirt juice to splatter in nasty spasms from the cage. He is a natural, soon training will have him see pain in dissipation his only source of worldly satisfaction.
Gil leaves to get some much needed rest. I play with the dials, progressing #157's conditioning as I read his confession:
I am a mixed blood indigenous Aussie who sees myself as part of a long tradition in the land and sea around here. To my dark complexion and broad fleshy lips, Celtic forbears have added hair that bleaches as I work in sun and blue eyes. School was not my thing and as I got older I had my problems with the dole and boredom so I was glad to work with my buddy Frank in a bit of construction work. We are footy mates and while I am good small around the rucks, Frank was brilliant. Frank is huge which is why our team was unbeatable when he played. Most thought he would end up down south in the big league until that season when he laid out a smartarse lines ump and got a life ban. He is a descendant from the local indigenous and the islanders who built the railways of the Pilbra. Frank has his troubles other than his temper, he does not always take care of business when his cock is concerned.
"Well by the time we smash it up and redo it I won't make a fucking cent," he yells slapping the wheel, "so I can't pay ya," he tells me. We stop at waylay a little out of town for lunch. "Ya should have looked after it rather that chatting up the client." "I was chatting up the husband of the woman you were rooting because he came home unexpected." Woman still loved getting off with Frank even though he is no longer a footy star. I guess it is his superb body and the huge crutch bulge that is hard to miss in the tight work jeans he wore. Our argument is getting heated when one of the bikies parked a hundred metres away comes towards us. He wears a leather jacket, tight worn jeans, blond, teal eyes, clean shaven, bright teeth glint in the sun. Our discussion is none of his business so we face him down together.
"You're the bloke who banged me in Katherine last April," he says and I see the smile as more a grimace. I am dumfounded. I have a pathetic sex life. I wank imagining Frank fucking his women. I am thinking about Frank more than the women. Suddenly I realize that I could have been sucking his cock, been fucked by his huge meat. I have never thought this before because Frank is straight. Now I feel he has been cheating me all this time. "Never seen ya before," Frank says. I can tell he is lying. He was in Katherine in April. "Well I reckon ya should remember this." The bloke's slim muscular body narrows at the waist to a bulging crotch. He turns and bents over. His jeans crease into the crack of his arse the top of which is seen above an unnecessary belt on the low hanging dacks. White bum is obvious through a frayed decimetre size hole on his right buttock.
"Just fuck off, okay." Frank had his tool belt on. He took a shifter out. Suddenly things become sinister. Our blond is joined by another couple of leather jacketed hunks, both dark haired. The taller of the two carries a tomahawk the other a metal bar. Frank hands me a pissy little screw driver. "Ya take the blond. Now!" Frank yells but as I make my move I am grabbed from behind. I am lifted by a hand to the neck and one under my pelvic floor and thrown at Frank. I think it is Frank's shifter that knocks me out. I come too on the ground, I do not move but open an eye a slit. I am untied, naked except for my work gloves and boots. They must have taken my boots off to get my jeans off then put them back on. I am sure I did not have my work gloves on to eat lunch. I shift my head fractionally to see Frank stripped like me with boots, gloves and his tool belt still on. His legs and hands are bound behind a wood power pole. At his feet is the blond hunk who had accused him. He is totally naked, his cock is erect, and he is fondling Frank's massive donger.
I have glimpsed it in the showers after footy but had tried not to stare. It is beginning to grow from the attention. "Shit, I taste cunt," the blond spits after licking Frank's cock. "Ya begging for it again," Frank says with bravado. "Can ya imagine how I was beaten by my topman because ya wanted some fun?" That shut Frank up. The other guys just laughed as they strip their clothes off, struggling to get tight jeans over hard cocks, putting their boots back on once their jeans are off. "Let his bitch suck it." This came from behind me. I know he is talking about me, I am Frank's bitch. A kick to my kidneys hurts. I can not pretend to be unconscious as my stiffy is sticking hard out from my body. I look up at he who had kicked and spoke. I see a big limp dick and balls hanging out of a set of crutchless leather chaps. He looks down at me, dark hair, trimmed beard, rugged acne-scarred completion. His face and crutch are the only bits leather free, he wore a cap.
I am on hand and knees trying to rise. "Crawl," his says shoving his boot's heal into my bum crack. I crawl the five metres to my buddy. The blond bloke stands, bows and walks away playing with his ridged phallus. "Don't suck it mate," Frank says but I want to. As I take a cock into my mouth for the first time I feel like I am on my wedding night not part of a poofter, bikie, revenge gang bang. The bloke in leather comes up behind me. His dick hangs, drools in my hair. I start to suck the head of Frank's dick and despite his efforts it is growing. The guy in leather leathered hand caress Frank's tethered left thigh and buttock. "What gave ya the right to dip ya wick into my he-bitch," he spits the words out in Frank's face. He is higher than Frank given the way Frank is tied. "Shit mate, don't tell me he didn't enjoy it." As he says this any chance his cock has of remaining weak went, it became a three hundred mil log stuck in my mouth. "Of course he liked it, that's why he's a he-bitch. Your problem is that you didn't ask me when ya wanted him, so now ya gunna have to pay."
As he says this he drove his knee into my buttocks, which drives my head into a head slitting choke, taking most of Frank's massive monolith straight down my thorax. "Get up their mole," ordered the bigger of the other bikies, he had a huge eagle tattooed on his chest. His bumboy leaped up on Frank's massive chest like a monkey. The guy sat on it like it is a lounge, shit Franks pecks are bigger than this blokes buttocks. He is trying to stuff his prick into Frank's mouth. "I'll bit it off," Frank threatens. "Fuck I got too much cock for a bikie mole anyway," the chest jockey laughs. I do not need more to continue to swallow the whole of Frank's fodder. I figure how to breathe and swallow, play with his balls, taste the woman he just humped, his sweat, smegma, pre-cum and fear. He had a right to fear because the way these hunks were playing their organs and beating Franks hind bongos we all knew what concert was cuming.
The man in leather joins his blond he-bitch. The blond is playing with both their cocks, the bloke in leather is fingering the blond's butt. I have been swallowing mega-meat for about five minutes when the man with the eagle tat pulls me off Frank's cock and away from him by my hair. This is the cue for Frank's wrist tie to be cut by the chest jockey. Given that the guy is still swinging off Frank's pecs. and Frank's legs are still tied behind the post, Frank falls as felled. I think his main concern is to stop his solid cock-pole augering the earth. His ankles are still bound behind the pole and the blond sits on his boots. The dark couple grab an arm each, enjoying the struggle that ensues. "Lube this super-bitch for me creep," the man in leather orders me. The two men who have his arms put a hip each into Frank's shoulders and his butt is shoved back towards the power pole. There is plenty of room between the pole and his butt for me to put my head in and stick my tongue out. The man in leather wants more. "Pull his buns apart," he directs as he pushes my face into Frank's bum crack, "suck his arse out." Frank just yells and swears
At first I wondered if I am spoiling the wonderful new relationship I have achieved with Frank by doing this to his arsehole but then I realize I am just kissing it, licking it, sucking it, adoring it. I am lost in another olfactory wilderness when I am suddenly pushed aside as the man in leather stepped behind Frank. I have readied him to be violated. The man in leather spreads his legs and leans his bum against the power pole. "Lobe it," he tells me waving the cock at me that he is about to abuse in my hero. I easily swallow his erection into my juicy mouth. It is near as long as my man's but nowhere near as thick. I bet what the blond he-bitch told him had made him jealous and curious. He is fondled on his leathered bottom by his bottom who still sat on his rapists boots. His top merely held Franks hips so they were guided onto his manhood. The impetus came from the dark haired men who plied their hips to my hunk's shoulders to force him relentlessly onto the man in leather's rapier.
I watch my hero sodomised. He tries not to scream or cry as the avenging vehicle is driven steadily along his narrow dirt track. He is held in doggie position, the man mounting him ramming forward as the blokes at his shoulders pushed. It is soon over, the man in leather blasts his balls' load after a half dozen stokes. Frank takes it like a man but these blokes just mock him as how much he likes it, playing with his still hard manhood. There are minutes of casual male bonding for a job well done amongst the gang after the man in leather pulls out. A struggle from Frank is enough to start the next stage of his humiliation. "Grab an arm," I am told by the man in leather. So I do. Franks leg ties have been cut and we drag him forward from the pole.
"Thanks my man, ya juiced him up perfectly for pay-back," laughed the evanescent blond he-bitch who is already falling on Frank as the dark couple spread his legs wide. The man in leather and I hold an arm each. I kneel beside Frank comforting him through his ordeal. The blond takes his time but I do not let Frank move. "Don't get to butt butt much," the blond giggles. Frank's vitriol has subsided. The eagle chested bloke gets to use his arse chute next. His mole asked permission to fuck Frank's mouth while his top fucked Frank's arse. "Sure bitch," the top agreed. I held Frank's hair to keep his head steady while the butt-boy drove his stiffy in and out of his mouth. The dark pair blow about the same time, their mouths in tonguing embrace. I support Frank's head as he chokes, swallowing the bike-mole's spunk as ordered by the bloke with the eagle tat.
When the man in leather fucks Frank for the second time he takes his time too. He needs no help to hold Frank down. The others dress while this happens but I am not allowed to. After the man in leather had cockholed his cuckolder for the second time he stood. He flicked a glug of personal and accumulated spunk off his cock's foreskin onto Frank's back. "Go man. Ya will be welcome back any time," the man in leather laughs an invitation and warning. "We'll take care of ya unfaithful bitch." Frank mumbles something and needs to be helped up by eagle tat guy. As he stumbled up off the ground he is unable to hide his final humiliation. "Hay big boy which of us pumped that out of ya," laughs the blond bloke pointing to the spunk smear on the ground and damp dirt around Frank's pubes and navel. The blokes including me laugh as he grabs some clothes holding his arse cheeks tight.
The eagle tat escorts him to his ute. and gets something out of the back before Frank drives off. I think, `what about me', is that what I get for dedicating to a man. I look at these happy couples. The man in leather's cock glistens in the afternoon sun with fuck juices from Franks arse. Beside him the blond is dressed except his jeans are not fastened allowing a hand on his backside and arched cock hanging in front. The other two are apart. That is to ensuring I can not escape.
"Tie him!" the man in leather orders. My arse's pucker tickles, at last it is my turn. I am naked still except for boots and gloves. They tie my wrists with leather tong through a high fork in a tree branch. I have to lean away from the rough bark of the tree because my stiffy refuses to go down. I have wanted to blast my balls since I was ordered to suck Frank's cock but the man in leather stopped me touching my prick. Ever since then my hard-on and virgin arse have begged gratification but have had only humiliation and titillation.
The blond he-bitch removes the belt from his jeans and gives it to the man in leather. The belt thrashes, trashes my legs, bum, back. Once when I look back to beg the bike boss for mercy the belt slapped my mouth and I bit into my tongue. Even as I am belted my stiffy remains solid, I almost blow against the rough bark but then another stinging lash has me recoiling. The other three watched. The blond he-bitch stroked his cock in twittering excitement, the other two cuddling in oral, petting passion. When I had been beaten a couple of dozen times the four confer. Again I expect my butt chute to be buggered but minutes later the dark bottom bloke came forward with the tin taken from Frank's ute. It is black marking paint and he paints on my back, starting between my shoulder blades, again in the small and then two letters on each side of my arse crack. Though difficult for me to see, the bikies made it clear what it said: .
I'M
A
S L).(U T
They hop on two to a bike and together ride away in a jolly mood. My leather jacket, pants, underwear, t-shirt and self esteemed go with them. I still wear my work boots and gloves.
I am actually tied near a local road and it is still daylight. At first I try to be inconspicuous, but once Frank drove past near sundown and only stopped to give me the finger I began to panic. As dark fell I yelled out at every passing vehicle but am ignored I have had a hard day. I am dosing when Officer Renal, a mate of Frank's, pulls in on his bike. Renal and Frank are alike but different. Alike in age, they both played footy but against each other, they are big and angry. Officer Renal is an Arian, shaves his head, it is naked under his helmet. All arvo I have been expecting to be buggered but when the anal penetration came I am not ready and it is not of the form I expect. "Christ, I heard how those four fuckers did ya over, must be real sloppy in there," Officer Renal says. My reply is a prolonged scream as his dry truncheon is delivered with cavity search indifference to my rectum.
"Let me cut ya down," he says leaning on my flayed back forcing the truncheon deeper into my guts. "Arrrrherrr," I whimper. My hands are no longer tied in the tree but still hang with loose bindings. Officer Renal pulls on those ties to bring my face down onto his contained erection. I should have noticed it outlined in his motorcycle pants straight away, but rampant dicks are normal for me today. I lick its huge outline, suck its obvious head. While I homage his cock he played with the truncheon in my arse. I am surprised how I feel it as hard plastic. I can imagine how much more thrilling human flesh must be. Further tugs on the straps around my wrists has me at his knees, at his high boots. "I bet they made ya lick their boots aye slut." "Yes, sir," I lied. I have not had a drink since lunch, my mouth is dry as the proverbial nun's pussy. I try to lick them, they are not that bad. They are dusty, rich in metho.
Officer Renal pulls me up by my hair. "I arrest you and am taken ya in for interrogation. If ya don't follow orders it will take longer, be harder," he sneers twisting the buried baton in a way that made me turn putting my back to him, making me cry out. Officer Renal ties my hands behind my back with the still hanging tongs. "Sir, do ya wanta take ya baton back." I lean forward flashing my skewered manhole at my arresting officer. "I know where it is." He slips my wrist tie under the baton, painfully changing its angle of penetration. "On the bike." I ride to town, naked, painted on, behind Officer Renal. I am balancing on the foot rest to ensure the vibration of his Kawasaki and his erratic driving do not drive his police weapon past my butt-hole's end. At the station I am brought into the tiled reception area and processed. My boots and gloves are taken off me but the butt baton remains.
Officer Steel slips a metal choker lead. "Prisoner 1-5-7," Officer Renal calls me as he drags me out the way I came to another smaller but similar room to the one I just left. Officer Renal presses a button near the door. A chain dropped from the ceiling and I am pushed towards it. Officer Renal attached my left leg to it and went back to the controls. The chain started to return to ceiling. Soon I am hanging by my left leg, my elbows on the floor my right leg dangling. Officer Renal uses one hand on my neck chain to raise my mouth to his cock's height. While he plays with the baton up my bum, I use my teeth to pull down his fly. He did not wear undies but his swollen cock and huge balls are imprisoned in his pants. He won't let me use my hands so I used my mouth and tongue undo his belt. Officer Renal verbally encourages me but only helps by holding the chain lead as I hung choking in the lead. I chip a tooth getting the top stud of his pants undone.
Finally the erectness of his cock helps to push cloth aside. "Ya need this don't ya. Well slut dream on. My shifts ended so I'll leave ya for the next shift." He dropped the lead and my chin hit the floor. I am dazed as I watch him leave me not even bothering to put his hard-on away. The next officer who deals with me wakes me by sticking his baton in next to Officer Renal's. He extracts this confession by a tape recorder on the floor near my head, while whipping me with a horse crop. He is using my lead to choke me and my right leg to swing me about. As I circulate I see the man's chest behind his sweaty shirt. His abs. ripple, pecs. flex, bi'es bulge and lose cock swings in unison to the swipe of the crop as he whipped my upturned arse, back, front and thighs. A third batton is added when the morning shift brings in the typed up confession for me to sign. I am in no state to but a smudge of my blood (DNA) suffices. After all that happened to me today it seems I am still a virgin, at least as far as rooting or being rooted is concerned.