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Story

Jail Training Center – Part 02

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By slaveobjectx

I flew from London to Atlanta. Atlanta airport is something else! Huge. For whatever reason, I was pulled over for a search coming through Customs. My suitcase was mostly taken up with my leather gear and boots but the black lady sifting through my stuff must have seen it all before. Not even the hint of a knowing smile. Finally I was waved through and there was Mike waiting for me.

I knew that The Center was not actually in Atlanta but I had not expected it to be some thirty miles north, through a commuter town and then through countryside until we arrived at an area filled with up-market, large houses, most with swimming pool and very much sitting cheek by jowl. One was overlooked in all directions. We parked and entered through the main door to the house. How different it used to be for the inmates of The Academy! The illusion of jail was maintained through picking them up at the airport in a prepared van with blackened windows. As such they would have seen nothing of the seeming normality of the setting of The Academy in an oasis of respectability.

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Story

Jail Training Center – Part 01

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By slaveobjectx

I had known it as the Academy Training Center. It only advertised in the pages of Drummer, the pioneering gay BDSM magazine, which all leathermen were addicted to if they could get hold of it. It was banned in the UK. I picked up copies if I visited NYC or Amsterdam. Jack Fritscher also wrote an article for Drummer about The Academy, and this is still available online. My memories provide a kind of partial coda to that account and also give a slightly different, and I believe truer version, of how The Academy ended and The Jail Training Center came into being.

For those of you who know nothing of The Academy, I’ll fill you in a little here. It started in the late 1980s and, at that time, was situated in Missouri. What it offered — at a hefty price — was a ‘real’ jail experience. I say ‘real’ because it differed in some interesting ways from a true jail experience. It’s an undoubted fact that the guards were recruited from either serving or ex-serving prison guards and police officers. But sex was in no way part of the equation.

Continue reading Jail Training Center – Part 01 →

Story

Chain Gang – Part 08

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By slaveobjectx

The Lucky Day

When you’re a slave, you get to thinking. There’s a lot of time for thinking in a place like that penitentiary. I was no great shakes at learning — lazy and a bum rather than stupid, I’d say now. But in there you get to thinking all kinds of things. Oh, there are the normal things — like when am I gonna be fed and will it be, like, worth eating? Let me tell you that sure doesn’t go a long way in a place like that. You need more to fill your time than the thoughts of a dumb animal. That’s giving in to them. That’s playing their game. There’s no books and sure as hell no TV — nothing to educate you except what you make of your situation. I guess I’m apologising in advance for giving you some of the thinking I did and I’m not claiming it’s profound or anything.

Like this whole thing with the chains, welded on and all. They’re there, they’re like that, to fuck with your mind. If you were tied up, say, rather than in chains then I think you’d waste a lot of time thinking about escape — because you know ropes can be cut. All right, you may not have a knife but then you might be foolish enough to keep your hopes alive by thinking of a bit of broken glass, or a jagged beer can or a broken beer bottle. But what way is there out of chains and metal? They know that. It fucks your mind because you soon know there’s no way out, know it deep inside yourself. The reason chains have always been used to bind slaves and animals is to keep them in their place and that place is pretty damn low so that a slave begins to think he’s an animal and not a man. Then, they keep you in a place, a physical space and you soon know you’re not going far with the weight of them, and the restricted length of them.

Continue reading Chain Gang – Part 08 →

Story

Chain Gang – Part 07

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By slaveobjectx

Urinal

Having a ring inserted in my nose was only the first of the piercings — but it was the one that broke me. All the rest? The nipples, scrotum, ball sack, Prince Albert? These things… just happened to me. It’s not that I didn’t feel them — of course I did with nothing to dull the pain. But the mind dulls the pain when you have been so thoroughly dehumanised as I had been — you go onto another plane, another level of consciousness. You kinda float above it all, like your mind soars up to the ceiling and looks down at what is happening. It’s you down there and yet not you — a physical you, just a body. That’s how you survive, that’s how you get by, that’s how you survive and endure all the whippings and kicking and slaps and cattle prods that lie before you. You learn to get into that space.

It’s been forced on you now — simply because of the unrelenting nature of it — a piercing, another and another — all without regard for any feeling you might have. But if you’re smart you learn the lesson. They’ve taken you to a place you can retreat to when the going gets rough — into a place that rises above the pain and the humiliation. They’ve shown you how to survive this hell-hole.

Continue reading Chain Gang – Part 07 →

Story

Chain Gang – Part 06

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By slaveobjectx

Cattle

But there was still more to come, even worse and more humiliating were such a thing possible. At first, they apparently wanted to continue the fettering procedure. Already the blacksmith was searching for some chains to interconnect my fetters. But one of the guards intervened. ‘No. Leave it. We’re better to ring him and mark him first and do that afterwards. That’s easier.’

I didn’t understand what he meant by that, but I soon would, and I assure you, I was happier not knowing. Still lying on the ground with my new heavy collar and cuffs, I now was ordered to get up. It took a few seconds before I managed to stand up. Then both warders roughly took an arm of mine and marched me across the room, in the direction of the oven where the blacksmith already waited for me.

Not knowing what was going to come, I didn’t resist for the time being, so I was hauled before him again with little difficulty. There the blacksmith stood next to a strange chair and a small table, on which were lying a lot of round iron rings, all of the same size and form, half an inch thick and with a total diameter of some two-and-a-half inches. As I could see in the dim light all rings were not wholly circular, and so not wholly complete; just a very small fragment was missing, so the rings were, so to say, ‘open.’

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Chain Gang – Part 05

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By slaveobjectx

The Collar

But when the ‘blacksmith’ suddenly produced out of his heap of irons a real ancient metal slave collar and tried to put it round my neck, I really resisted. I assure you I was completely freaked out when I saw the big band of heavy steel that they obviously meant me to wear from now on. It seemed huge enough to keep an elephant in check. It was one-and-a-half times as thick as my anklets and bracelets, and some three inches high. I saw that it must have a weight of five or six pounds at least.

I was horrified by the idea that they would fasten it around my neck in the same way as they had done with the cuffs around my ankles and wrists. Because I suddenly sensed that I would have to wear that collar the whole time of my imprisonment here too, I started to shout.

‘Fuck you, you bastards, you can’t do this to me. I’m not a fucking animal! I’m a man! I got rights.’ I really struggled, trying to bite them and kick them as they pinioned my arms but I was one against three and it was hopeless.

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Story

Chain Gang – Part 04

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By slaveobjectx

The Cuffs

I looked baffled but once again I was grabbed and marched out of the room, down the corridor and into a half darkened place that looked like a blacksmith’s forge. But to me, it appeared rather as the entrance to hell, and within a few minutes it became obvious that it was indeed a place of horror. It was very hot inside; the room was filled with damp and smoke. It soon became clear to me that there was some reason for that.

Along one of the walls there was a huge iron oven with a lid open, revealing a white-hot fire glowing. I saw something lying in it, but from the distance couldn’t make out what it was exactly. But the whole furnishing of the room filled me with fear. Around the wall hung all sorts of thick chains and iron contraptions that I couldn’t guess what they were supposed to be for.

A dirty guy, muscular in a leather apron looked over his shoulder as we entered. ‘Standard irons? Boy, you must have been good! Well, I hope yer startin’ as you mean to go on. You’ll find life here’ll be a lot easier if you toe the line and give us no aggro. OK, boy, over here and we’ll soon have you kitted out as a real slave. You won’t know yourself again, boy!’

Continue reading Chain Gang – Part 04 →

Story

Chain Gang – Part 03

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By slaveobjectx

The Cut

Then, to my surprise, only my cage was unlocked; they both grabbed me, unlocked the cuffs and dragged me out, cuffing my hands again behind my back. The other men were left where they were; apparently they had to stay for a while, or perhaps still had to be transported to some other place.

I was stiff and could scarcely stand but they gave me no time to collect myself but hauled me up and dragged me indoors. I had just time to see that night had almost fallen, and that I had arrived in a kind of compound, surrounded by high stone walls. This was no flimsy little structure but a real, high security prison, from which there wouldn’t any chance of escape. Anybody entering against his will surely had to give up hope at once that’d he’d ever come out unless released. I was shit-scared by now, thinking that I was entering into a nightmare now, and that there was no way out.

I was dragged down a corridor with bare brick walls, only occasionally broken up by a metal door, until we came to a halt outside one of these. The taller pig knocked on the door, and, not waiting for an answer, I was marched inside. A uniformed governor, tall, greying, middle-aged but good-looking, was talking to a few of his associates. He looked up briefly.

‘One of the new slaves?’

Continue reading Chain Gang – Part 03 →