By felon

Apparently the discussion outside the door concerned me. It seems my status as a felon slave was being moved quickly into some level of complete ownership. This would be more than a weekend session. From what I could determine, and what I had already suspected, these men were more concerned about the mental and physical aspect of control than appearance, age, etc. And they had done their homework, checking into my finances, lifestyle, earnings, savings and lack of family. I would be the perfect project for their Prison Group.

They entered the room I was being kept in and removed my leather gag. It seems there would finally be some kind of communication. I was in a very vulnerable situation, naked, gaged, ass plugged. I was removed from the table and forced up against the concrete block wall. I was photographed by cell phone camera from all sides, all angles, naked of course. It was then I noticed two ceiling-mounted cameras in the room. So it would be safe to say that others might be involved in this action in the mountains of West Virginia. Close-up pics were taken of my wrist tat and leg tat. I was handed a sign to hold for the cell camera with my ID – PA6404.

Still standing, I was led out the door under the camo tarp strung between buildings toward the large wooden barn door. There I was spread-eagle restrained to hooks in the side of the barn. A blindfold was pulled over my eyes. I could sense that there were probably two or three men gathered around me. One was adjusting the cath tube hanging between my legs and also playing with the plug in my ass. My original captor whispers in my ear, “Welcome to the club. This is your initiation beating.”

Then a soft leather whip was slowly drawn across my back and a blindfold tightened against my face, and then the voice: “Here’s the first blast to take you down the path of no return.” And then I felt relaxed from the meds being injected in my arm. As I relaxed against the wall the first of my beatings with the soft whip started — 20 strokes. At least three or four men were present, sipping on beers and enjoying the view so to speak. As I hung there my captor from home wedged a metal spider gag in my drooling frothing mouth and softly said, “I hope you are prepared for what follows as we have only just begun.” Then they stood around me as a group unzipped their pants and sprayed me with their salty piss, which jolted me alert instantly. Then a cold blast of water from a hose, and a swig of vodka poured down my throat.

Two of the men dragged me into the barn, and into the first cell of the entire experience. They dropped me on a mattress, slammed the door and left. I then noticed I was not alone in the barn. There was another prisoner, also in his 60s, in a cell across the room. He was sucking one of the men thru the bars while kneeling at the cell door.

What had I gotten myself into? I was terribly excited, very intimidated and completely in the dark where this was all headed. The man getting serviced finished his business, zipped up and walked over to my cell. “The boys will see you later…”

I laid back on the mattress and watched as the man in the other cell pulled himself together and laid on the bunk. He sounded like he was crying. All I could do was grunt. I wish we could communicate. The barn door opens and the younger guy enters with two bottles of Gatorade, and my cell mate jumps up and kneels at the cell door. He gets gatorade poured down his throat. He sounds like he is gagging on the stuff. Then it is my turn, and I am parched. My mouth is wired open so I gag as the stuff is poured down my throat.

So it looks like the cell will be my home for the night…

Thanks for your patience with me — appreciate hearing from you and meeting men with similar interests —felon (gunsukr@yahoo.com)