The FSRA

The FSRA

Day One

The rumors had been running around the men's prison for some time now. Most were false, some true. I was going to find out.

The congress, in an attempt to deal with the massive overcrowding in the various prisons across the country, had taken a rather bold step. Rather than expend more money and build more prisons, or simply release prisoners early, they were going to allow prisoners the option of converting their sentence. The idea was based on an age old principle - there was more than one way to pay your debt to society. Fines could be levied, prison time served. Congress simply introduced an alternative, which could be used instead of prison time.

The Fair Sentence Reduction Act (FSRA) allowed for alternative punishments for criminal behavior, which had been accepted and widely used throughout history, but had temporarily been suspended. These punishments would be reintroduced on an optional basis. Each prisoner was allowed to choose their form of punishment. The alternative punishment was one that had been around a long, long time.

Torture.

Purely voluntary, of course. No prisoner would be required to undergo any unpleasant treatment; they could serve out their term, just as originally sentenced. But... if they wished to shorten their sentence and get out a little faster, they could.

The terms were simple, as they were explained to us in one of several meetings held in the large rec hall in D Block. One hour of torture would take one week off your sentence. Suffer for 8 hours, you could cut two months off. Submit for two weeks, you might take as much as a year off your sentence.

Those numbers didn't quite add up, and they had to explain that no one would be asked, or would be allowed, to undergo torture continuously for two weeks. That would not be healthy, and they had no wish to do permanent damage to either body or mind. Specific periods of time for recovery were mandated by the government standards. There were humanitarian rules to be followed.

Yes... humanitarian rules for the torture of inmates. Sounds like an oxymoron, and as I discovered, it is. But at the time, it seemed to make sense. I had already taken a lot of pain in the year I had spent in Chino, between getting beaten by guards and by inmates. I had several scars to prove it, thought they didn't really mean anything to anyone. No one cared what happened to scum like me, and just living in Chino was torture as far as I was concerned.

So when it came time, I was one of a handful that volunteered. The program had been in place for a couple of months, the inmates that had volunteered before me were segregated for their "health". That seemed fine to me as well.

The legal documents I was presented were thick, maybe about 20 pages. I asked several times... one hour for one week, right? No one can go back on that, right? I was assured that it was a rock solid deal. So I signed.

I was in for four years, and had three years left. I figured I would start out with a round that would cut six months off my sentence. Four days of pain administered in a sanitary, compassionate manner by a skilled practitioner and constantly monitored for health problems. They made it sound like a medical procedure.

There was a queue in front of me. Apparently, even though relatively few were trusting enough to volunteer, there were not enough "qualified practitioners" or "operators" to safely perform the "procedures". But my time came soon enough, and I found myself in my nice clean orange jump suit, wrists shackled to a waist chain, hobbled by short ankle chains, walking down the hall to A Block, where the segregated prisoners and torture took place. I was nervous, sure, but also eager to get it over with. If it worked out, I figured I might go for more, and get out of this hellhole in a few weeks instead of three years.

The final document signing was quick and to the point. Before being led away, I was given an injection. I asked what it was, and was told it would help me withstand the procedures. I wasn't sure I liked the sound of that, but whatever it was, was already floating around inside my body.

I was led in to a room by two guards, unshackled, and told to undress. I hesitated for a moment, looking around the room. It was concrete, but with linoleum from about waist high on the walls down and across the entire floor. The floor was slightly sloped to a drain in the center of the room. There was a table on the side covered with a number of unusual and inexplicable instruments. There were metal hooks, eyelets, pulleys and the like on the walls and ceiling, and several large metal items that I could not understand and didn't have time to look at. Some electronic equipment that looked like medical monitoring gear or something was against the far wall. The room was windowless.

I was wondering why I needed to be nude, when one of the guards took out a small rod with a prong on the end - a portable cattle prod. He shoved it in my side.

Pain exploded in my side as if I had been struck with a baseball bat. I was on the floor in less than a second, unable to move. After allowing me a minute to recover, they kicked me, and I began to undress as I had been told. When I was completely nude, the guards rolled me over, strapped my wrists behind my back, and then my elbows together. My ankles were tied, though not to each other. In fact, they were spread slightly apart.

I lay on the floor, wondering what I had gotten myself in to. Was this part of the torture? I was still panting, recovering from the cattle prod, when the guards left, and another person walked in to the room.

It was a woman. Not just any woman, but a tall woman of about 35, wearing tight black clothes that revealed an amazing girlish body. Her cute face was framed by long dark hair tied in a pony tail. She was beautiful, but in the beauty of her face was a streak of cruelty that made me shudder.

She used one booted foot to roll me over on my back. I stared up at her, and then became aware of my huge erection. I was rock hard. She smiled at me, not in a nice way, and leaned down next to me.

"Surprised? Where do you think they would go to get someone that knows how to handle, dominate and torture men? A dominatrix, of course. I'm your operator, and very, very serious about my craft." She smiled again, in a way that made me shudder and look away from her.

She kicked me over on to my stomach again, and pulled something down from the ceiling. A hook was placed under the bonds which tied my elbows together behind my back, and the soft sound of a motor accompanied the pull on my elbows up toward the ceiling. I was being lifted up on a hoist, slowly but surely, by my elbows joined behind my back. As I was pulled up to my knees and then up off the floor, the pain shot through my upper arms and shoulders. Still I was hoisted higher, and my legs began to spread wide. My ankles had been tied by ropes to brackets on either side of the room, and the higher I was raised, my legs were also pulled apart.

When my legs reached a tension point, spread wide and angled down toward the anchor points of the ropes, she stopped the hoist. The pain in my back was agonizing, and I began to wonder if I was going to make it the full four days. My breathing was labored, and I grunted slightly with the pain.

She came over, and checked my body tension by pushing on me, seeing how much I swayed. Not satisfied, she turned the hoist on again, and my elbows began to rise and pull further up behind me. I let out a cry of pain as tendons in my shoulders began doing things they were never designed to do.

Satisfied, she came over and looked me over more carefully. I was suspended slightly above her, and the angle of my elbows and shoulders forced me to look down at her. She really was beautiful, which I noticed even with the pain shooting through my shoulders. Her long hair was smooth and silky, and I couldn't help but imagine how it would appear out of its pony tail and flowing over her shoulders. Her lips were full without being overly puffy, and looked slightly wet. Her eyes were a dark blue, a striking contrast to her brown hair and light smooth skin. Perfect breasts were outlined by her tight T top.

She knew exactly how she appeared to me, and exactly how she was making me suffer. My erection, now very obvious with my legs spread wide, was both an embarrassment and puzzle to me. I was in enough pain to make me cry out and moan, and yet my cock was rock hard.

Slowly, she examined me, probing every part of me from my feet, knees, genitalia, ass, back, front, and finally all the orifices of my head.

"My, my... you are a fine specimen, aren't you? I think you are enjoying this a little. Well, we will make sure to take care of you, but for now, we have some preparations." She spoke sweetly, her tone slow and quiet, almost as if she liked me as a friend. All I had to do was feel the massive cramping in my shoulders to be reminded she was not my friend.

She went over to a table on the side of the room, and picked up a strange device, some sort of round ring with straps dangling down. I had no idea what it was. On her return, she casually reached up and pushed my body, causing me to sway and my arms to be stretched further behind me. I let out a scream from the sudden pain, and before the scream was over the metal ring was in my mouth and she was buckling the leather straps behind my head.

My first introduction to a ring gag.

Drool immediately began dripping from my down turned face. My jaw hurt from being stretched wide, though it was nothing compared to the pain in my shoulders. I concentrated on staying as still as I could, as any movement just caused worse pain.

She was working elsewhere in the room, out of my sight. I felt something cold and slimy covering the outside of my ass, and then penetrating inside. Her finger, covered with a rubber exam glove. Jelly lube, applied mercifully to my ass. And then something longer, wider, was inserted and began to penetrate deeper. The farther it went, the wider my ass was distended, until it felt it would tear open. Suddenly, the object became thinner and lodged itself securely inside my bowels, fixed in place at my ass. A plug, deep inside me. No longer painful, but the feeling of fullness was more than I had ever experienced. It was like the worst constipation possible.

I hung there, waiting, making low grunting noises. She continued to fumble behind me. I caught a whiff of something that smelled nice from her, perhaps shampoo or even deodorant. My erection continued, rock hard.

Something was hung on a hook behind me. Suddenly, I felt liquid flushing in to my bowels. Slowly, but steadily, whatever was in my ass allowed this liquid to enter, but not exit, my body. At first the sensation of the enema was strange but not painful. It then became uncomfortable as the amount increased and I felt bloated. The fluid continued to fill me, rising higher, until it began to cramp.

Whatever was pushing the fluid in, it was more than gravity from a bag. I remembered seeing some hoses of various types when I first entered the room. My position at the moment was too painful and twisted to look around, but I was sure that this fluid was under pressure, and the increasing pressure in my abdomen was becoming agonizing. The pain in my chest was keeping me from really screaming, but my grunts and whimpers were becoming urgent. I could actually see my body increasing in size, distending as the fluid filled me slowly but surely.

The agony in my belly reached a point where it was worse than the pain of my weight hanging on my twisted shoulders. The flow of fluid stopped, and the hose was detached from my anal plug. I hung in the room, suffering, crying, moaning and whimpering... she walked around and sat in front of me for a while, just watching my face.

The pain in my stomach was too much to take after a while. I became nauseous, the pressure on my stomach and ribs becoming too much for me to take. I vomited, spewing over the floor and myself. The retching continued because with each heave the muscles in my stomach contracted, causing waves of pain in my distended lower abdomen. I jerked and writhed on my hook, tears flowing freely, every bit of my body in pain from my neck, back, chest, stomach, and bowels. I begged through the ring gag, making unintelligible noises.

The retching finally stopped, and I noticed two things. My erection was still as hard as ever, and my torturer, my operator, had unzipped her pants and was slowly masturbating with one hand as she looked at my pain wracked body. For the first time, real mental pain overcame me in addition to the muscular and internal pain I experienced. She was truly getting off on seeing me so sick with agony that I was vomiting, crying, grunting, and pleading.

Her hand continued moving, and I looked down at my own erection, and felt arousal that contradicted the pain in the rest of my body. I could imagine my cock entering this beautiful woman, wanted, dreamed of this at the same time as I was hung in front of her and she stimulated herself by the sight and sound of me as well as her own hand.

Her head tilted back as her back arched. Her eyes continued to look at me though slits as her breathing quickened. Her legs spread wide; hand plunged deep, and took on a frantic motion. A sudden expulsion of breath from her announced her climax, as she gasped, exhaled, gasped, continued her hand motion, plunging deep. Seeing her do this in front of me made me feel as if I could almost come myself, if she would have just touched me, slightly, in the right place.

Finally, her orgasm subsided and her body relaxed in place. She propped one foot up on a table, her legs spread wide, and lazily pulled her hand out of her pants. Fingers glistened with moisture as she brought them to her lips, smelled, and then licked the taste of herself. My agony overwhelmed me and I yelled in pain, frustration, and humiliation.

Pulling her pants back up and zipping them, she rose and walked over to me.

"You seem to enjoy being up here quite a bit," she smiled and placed her hand gently on my erection. "I like for my subjects to get in to the whole ordeal as fully as possible."

She walked over to a table, and took a small tube. It was lube, and she spread it on my penis. Sliding her hand expertly up and down, she manipulated it. Over, down... under and back up in smooth motions. Sliding over the head, and then using thumbs underneath. It took almost no time before I exploded, jerking as I ejaculated and spurted out over the floor. The jerking renewed my cries, not just from pleasure but from pain as the tension on my shoulders was increased.

"Let's wash that disgusting mess away, shall we?" she sighed, as if disappointed in me.

She reached behind me, and pulled on the plug, firmly, as it was quite large and my sphincter muscles were not used to expanding that far. Finally, with a painful yank, it came out, and the contents of my bowels spurted out. The spurting kept going, cramps renewing during the process, but the relief was so great I almost orgasmed again from delight. The dirty liquid splashed on the floor, mixed with my semen and vomit and washed it toward the drain. After what seemed like an eternity, it was over, and I was simply hanging there, back and shoulders and chest now burning from being stretched and twisted.

My operator went to another hose protruding from the wall, and pulled it out. She turned on the water, and washed the filth of my bowels down the drain, cleaning the floor. She then turned the water on me and washed my body off thoroughly.

The agony in my bowels did not subside, but my shoulders and back continued to cramp and stretch. My arms were numb, except for a dull and insistent ache. My jaw hurt as well, from the ring holding it wide open for so long. I had cried, screamed, begged for mercy, all through this gag, all unintelligably. My tongue was as dry as a desert, while drool flooded from my mouth and down to the floor.

My operator came over with something new. A metal pole, perhaps three feet long, with locking circular metal cuffs on each end. A leg spreader. One end was quickly attached to my right ankle, which was then released from the rope which held it stretched toward the wall. The other end was locked to my left ankle, and its rope was released. My legs now hung down, no longer stretched tightly toward the walls on either side of the room, but spread nonetheless.

My continuing erection was surreal. It was huge, and hurt, though most of the rest of my body hurt worse. I looked down at it and watched as a small strap was fastened tightly around the base of my scrotal sack. It wasn't so tight that it caused agony, but was extremely tight and distended my testicles, placing some pressure on them. She then ran a long strap to the spreader bar, looped it through a ring in the center, and then pulled.

I gasped as the testical strap yanked, and I instinctively bent my knees and raised my legs to remove the pressure. As I did so, my operator buckled the strap in place, fixing my bent legs to my testicles. I kept my knees bent to prevent any further pressure on my testicles, but it was hard. In my weakened state, I had to work hard to keep my legs bent up as they hung free and my body slowly swung back and forth on the suspension rope.

She came up to me close, rubbed her body against mine, and I could smell her scent once again. I got a close look at her face, which was cute in such a girl next door way... beautiful... she had freckles. Then she lifted the spreader bar slightly, relieving my leg muscles. She held it for a moment as she kissed my cheek gently, and then let go suddenly. My legs dropped, jerked down on my testicles hard, and I once again screamed with the pain, jerking my legs back up.

"Well... its time for my break." She said in a matter of fact way. "I am going out for some lunch. Sorry to leave you hanging, but you look like you will enjoy it. Let me leave you with a little something to help while I am gone."

She moved to the side of the room, out of view, and came back a moment later with a concrete weight. She hooked it on to the spreader bar, weighing my legs down. It became really difficult to keep them bent up.

I stared at the puddle of my saliva on the floor below my hanging head as she walked out. My legs were already beginning to cramp as the chamber door closed behind her. I was alone, swinging gently by my elbows behind my back, my legs straining to keep up to prevent the weight from tearing my testicles off my body. The weight felt like it was 50 pounds, though it was probably only 10 or 15.

The time ticked by with the only sound in the room my whimpers and grunts as I tried to cope with the pain and cramping throughout my body. Tears flowed again as I began to realize I could be here for hours, unable to prevent the terrible pain that I had signed up for and was my chosen sentence. My legs muscles experience searing pain, a terrible charlie horse developing in my right thigh. They slowly began lowering... stretching the strap... tighter... I pulled back up, but couldn't maintain it... my legs sank down again, the stretching worse this time, pulling my distended scrotum down tighter and tighter.

Suddenly I couldn't do it any more, and my legs gave way. The strap jerked hard, and my testicles felt the sudden full weight of my legs and the concrete weight on the spreader bar. I screamed again, in pain and frustration.

Pain flooded my hips and then my lower abdomen. It rapidly increased, until I had to try to lift my legs again. Straining, I was able to relieve the pressure, and the pain began shifting from my testicles to my legs. When my muscles began to give out again, I lowered my legs, accepting the pain spreading across my lower body from abused and stretched testicles.

This slow up and down motion, almost a dance, continued for what seemed like forever. Each time I raised my legs, they were weaker, each time they stayed down longer. Finally, they stayed down and I simply endured the horrible agony of having my scrotum almost torn open from the weights.

It was in this worn and exhausted condition that my operator found me upon her return. I must have hung there a couple of hours, though it felt like an eternity. I almost jumped with joy when the door opened, I was eager for anything new if she would just change the torture to something else. I couldn't stand the continual pressure on my genitalia and I was afraid my shoulders would soon be pulled from their sockets.

She seemed fresh and beautiful and I was once again reminded of my inexplicable erection in her presence. Her lithe form walked to my side.

"Did you miss me? Yes? Good. Lets see what we have planned for this afternoon." Her scent filled me once again, and I noticed her tight ass as she walked to a table on the side of the room.

Just then building pressure in my bladder let loose. The pain throughout my body had been so bad I had hardly noticed the increasing need, but when it reached a certain point I simply let it go. I peed, all over the floor. It was a small relief, followed by embarrassment that this beautiful woman would see me relieve myself in this way. She noticed, frowned, and took a hose from the wall, and washed down the floor once again.

"I guess that pretty much determines what we might do next. I think you need a little lesson in bladder control." The frown of those perfect lips sent fear through my body as nothing else in my life ever had.

The weight was removed, then the strap and scrotum harness removed. My legs dropped with tremendous relief. The pain didn't leave though, my lower body was still swathed in agony which kept me grunting, crying, and pleading in unintelligible sounds through my open gag.

A large plastic bag was produced. My operator filled it with a liquid that was clear like water, but slightly off color. A long plastic tube was connected to the bottom of the bag, and she brought it over and hung it on a hook near where I hung. She then took the tube and shoved it up my nose, pushing it in roughly and forcing it through and down my throat.

"Just swallow it, it will go easier," she advised.

I followed directions and swallowed the tube, and in a moment it was down my throat and in my stomach. She released a clip and the liquid flowed in.

At first the sensation of filling seemed just a little strange. It was cold, and made my abdomen feel cold and cramp a bit. Then my stomach felt very full, and uncomfortable. Nausea began to wave over me. The bag continued to drain into me, my stomach bloating slowly, and as it filled and stretched it hurt more and more. Finally the bag was empty. My stomach hurt, but nothing like the enema I had earlier.

I hung limply, no longer feeling my arms or shoulders. It was if they had been removed, and there was pain from the amputation but the arms, even the shoulders, weren't there any more.

My operator moved about the room, putting things away in a businesslike manner, gathering other items, doing various little tasks as I hung watching my engorged penis sticking out under my bulging stomach. It was surreal, the way she acted so calmly, with me hanging there. I felt dead, a piece of meat hanging from a hook, simply one of the inanimate objects in the room.

Finally, she returned to me, and sat on a tall stool. She stroked my hardened penis several times, making sure it was as stiff as possible, and then took a plastic tube and began inserting it inside me. She was catheterizing me. With my erection as hard as it was, the process hurt terribly. When the end finally pushed through to my bladder, she clamped off the end of the tube, preventing me from urinating.

She sat in her chair and looked at me for a while. I was suffering horribly, though the pain had given way to numbness in some places. The psychological pain of feeling that parts of my body were being permanently damaged was as bad as the original pain. Exhaustion had taken me, I was dehydrated from sweating so much, my tongue was swollen in my mouth, and my stomach bulged like I had a huge tumor inside. She was enjoying herself thoroughly.

Finally she rose and went behind me. There was the sound of another small motor, another winch like that which had raised my elbows up behind me at the beginning of the day. She fastened it to the center of the leg spreader and it began winding up behind me, slowly lifting my legs.

As the winch on my legs went up, she lowered the one on my elbows. I slowly descended, my legs passing the level of my head and my body began to go inverted. She was turning me upside down. After a couple of minutes, both hoists stopped moving and I was completely upside down, blood rushing to my head, heart pounding, and my stomach churning. There was still a huge amount of fluid in my stomach, and it felt like it was all going to come out at once. I worked hard at keeping it down and breathing normally.

It must have been about a half hour later, when I noticed my bladder was uncomfortably full. The liquid she had pumped in to my stomach had begun to run through my system faster than Beer. Being upside down for that long is horrible, the pressure in my head had built up, my eyes felt like they were going to bug out, and I had trouble breathing.

My operator came over and from my head's position I saw nothing but her feet and the end of a long, thin whip. Oh my god... I knew she was going to begin whipping me.

I had had it. Before the first lash, I started screaming hysterically, begging in unintelligible sounds to be set free. I wanted to go back to prison, I would finish my sentence, they could even add to it, just let me go. The whip encircled my body and kissed my skin like a knife. My screaming became more hysterical. The whip curled around me, over and over, each time cutting a deep slice in another part of my body. I could no longer think, my mind had left me, my entire world consisted only of this woman and pain.

After a lifetime of the lash cutting again and again, it finally stopped. The skin of my entire body screamed with pain. I felt blood trickling down, I even saw it dripping on to the floor below my inverted head. I was babbling, and slowly became aware of the critical pain in my bladder. I was cramping there, trying to urinate but unable to. I never knew just how painful it could be to not urinate, and it was driving me insane.

Yes... I think I literally was becoming insane. Thinking about it now, I think I had reached the breaking point, that point where victims of the Inquisition would reach and confess to anything, without knowing it or caring.

But I hung there, unable to do anything except swing slightly, back and forth. She reached out and stroked my hard penis once again, gently, sending surges of pleasure to accompany my agony. She lubed my penis and stroked it harder, expertly, and in almost no time I exploded in orgasm.

Except this time my penis was plugged. There was no place for the semen to go. The result was horribly painful contractions, muscles attempting to ejaculate but no path for the liquid to exit. Pressure built, semen collected inside me and simply remained there, pushing painfully to get out.

I continued to scream.

I swung there, screaming and whimpering and babbling incoherently, for a long time. Days, weeks, I don't know. I hardly felt it when she pulled the catheter out, but I knew it when my bladder suddenly expelled a gallon of urine, spewing out with chunks of semen mixed in at first, later just pure yellow urine. It shot out, but the operator took my penis in hand once more and turned it down so that the urine covered my body, my head and face, and trickled in to my mouth and nose. Screams turned into choking coughs, and my body convulsed as it instinctively tried to expel the urine from inside my head.

Relief came at last, as my bladder was empty. I hung upside down, slowly regaining my conscious sanity.

After another half an hour of hanging inverted, the door opened again and two guards entered. I was slowly lowered on to a cart and once laying on it, the leg spreader and hooks were removed. My elbows were unbound which caused a sudden and agonizing pain as nerves began working and blood circulated in my damaged joints. I screamed again, and rolled weakly on the cart.

The operator leaned down, and stroked my hair and cheek before I was wheeled out. "I will see you again tomorrow, won't I? Get a good rest."

I lay on the cart as it wheeled down the hall, not thinking or moving, simply taking in the sensations of the hallway. I had spent an entire day in the torture chamber, and had survived, but in the process had begun to forget who I was, where I was, why I was there. Doors passed by my eyes until the cart stopped in front of one which stood opened. I was lifted roughly by the arms, which caused another shock of pain, and then shoved in to a tiny cell, about 4 feet high by 3 feet wide and 3 feet deep. Just enough to sit in, but not lay down. Cramped, unable to stand, unable to lie. My wrists still restrained behind me. The door clanked shut behind me, and all was dark except for a small amount of light that came through the cracks around the side of the door.

My first day of torture was done. My first period of recovery had begun. I had three more days of this.