By AlphaMetal

Trey knew he fucked up. That’s why he was sitting on the floor of a small room next to the punishment area with his hands cuffed behind his back and one ankle chained to a bolt in the middle of the floor.

The staff had been very clear during the intake process: Misbehavior of a certain level would result in a choice between being transported to jail, to serve your full sentence – which in Trey’s case was one year – or a trip to the punishment room. Trey was tough – his body was tough and his mind was tough – so when given that choice, he picked a few minutes of physical punishment over a year in jail.

But Trey was shocked by how quickly he wound up in this room. Within about three minutes of the incident, security guys had appeared; within seconds, he found himself handcuffed; and within another minute or two, he was sitting on the floor of an empty concrete room with his ankle chained to the floor.

Trey tried to tell himself it was worth it, but he knew he had just lost his temper. The staff member had pushed him too far, and the old cocky Trey, the one he had been able to keep in check for a few months, burst out and lost control. Trey yelled an angry “Fuck you” to the staff member, which was probably bad enough, but then it had gotten even worse: the man barked at him — “50 push-ups. NOW!” – but Trey just stood there, flexing his muscles like an animal who had just been challenged. When the man touched him, Trey lost it completely and shoved him hard. And within less than ten minutes, he found himself shackled in a cell.

And now he had to wait. Punishment occurred at 6:00 PM, and it was still mid-morning.

After what he figured was about an hour his arms were getting sore from being cuffed behind his back. He was doing OK, but he wasn’t sure how he would feel after another 6 or 7 hours, so when one of the security guys entered the room he hoped he would be uncuffed. Trey looked up at the man. He didn’t think it was a good idea to say anything, but he tried to look as non-cocky as possible. He didn’t want to show weakness, but since he did want the guy to have some sympathy, he tried to come up with a look that was sad but not angry, but also not scared, since that might cause the guy to take pleasure in leaving him cuffed. Trey looked up at the man and hoped he had gotten the look just right.

It didn’t work. The guy walked out of the cell and left Trey the way he was.

Trey moved his shoulders and arms to relieve the soreness but it only helped so much. And his ass was beginning to hurt from sitting on the concrete floor. With his ankle chained to the bolt in the center of the room he couldn’t even move to any of the walls to rest against them.

Trey didn’t know how much time had passed but the door opened and a staff member walked in with a bottle of water and a protein bar. The staff member uncuffed Trey’s wrists and told him to eat and left the room. Trey was grateful for the food and water, but after he finished the staff member came back in and said, “Hands behind your back.”

At this point Trey was just defeated. He closed his eyes, put his hands behind his back, and felt the handcuffs click around his wrists.

Trey knew he would be left like this for the rest of the day, and he realized that, as a result, he would already be in some pain when the punishment began. If the punishment could have happened when he was fresh – when he was feeling strong – he could have toughed it out easily, he thought, just he took the leather strap in the medical room. But spending the rest of the day with his hands cuffed behind his back was going to weaken him and make the punishment harder to take.

“They really are fuckers,” Trey thought.

After a few more hours of discomfort – or was it just a few minutes?? – the door opened and the Assistant Coach entered the cell. Trey was instantly filled with relief and hope; this was a very good sign. The coach knelt down beside Trey and put his hand on Trey’s shoulder, but then said, “You know I can’t help you.”

Trey deflated as quickly as he had become excited. He replied sadly, “I know, Sir.”

The coach and Trey looked into each other’s eyes for a moment. Trey could see sympathy in the coach’s eyes, and it made him feel better. It made him think maybe there was some kind of connection between the two of them. And for the first time since he had been brought to the cell, Trey began thinking beyond the punishment that was going to happen in the next few hours.

Up until that moment, the punishment had been the end point of Trey’s thoughts. It was like his sense of time stopped with the punishment, and he couldn’t think of anything happening after it. But suddenly, looking into the coach’s brown eyes, he found himself thinking about the next day, and the next week, and the next month.

The coach gripped Trey’s shoulder with his fingers and said, “I really am sorry I can’t help you.”

“I know,” Trey replied. “It’s OK.”

The coach appreciated what Trey said, but also the way he said it. The coach noticed that Trey had dropped the “Sir” and he was glad; he wasn’t the enemy any more.

“Maybe there is one very little thing I can do,” the coach said. “It’s not much, but it might help just a little.”

The coach gripped Trey’s shoulder again, said, “You can handle this,” and left the cell.

A few moments later a security man came in and removed Trey’s handcuffs.

Trey stretched out his arms. His body immediately felt better, and he knew he would be able to handle the punishment. And he began thinking about things that might happen after it was over.

To be continued …