Dear family. This is my first letter from prison. They said that they would mail it and I could write anything. I hope you receive this letter. I will be blunt and honest with you. You know why I am here so we'll not talk about that. It's been three years and I've had plenty of time to reflect. You need to know what it's like over here. Not that you can do anything about it. I doubt you'll ever read this letter. They won't mail it bit I will write it anyway.

I am locked in a 6 foot by 6 foot cell, 23.5 hours a day, 7 days a week. I sleep on a straw mat. The plumbing is rudimentary. The toilet is a small hole in the ground with two footrests. A hose attached to a tap is my source of water for all washing purposes. Each month I receive a pack of supplies: a bar of soap, a toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, four thick belted pads. When I was confined, I was given a small towel. There is no mirror. The cell is lit all the time. The light is dim. There is no reading material. No stimulation.

Each morning I collect my daily ration tray. It consists of a 1 gallon jug of water, a banana, four slices of bread, four crackers, a boiled egg, a cup of corn grits mixed with cooked vegetable peels. That's the only time I leave my cell. For 30 minutes of fresh air and to collect my tray. For that I am led to an outdoor enclosure, no more than 8 by 8 with high concrete walls so I can only see the sky and some clouds, no trees, not even the sun. I return my empty tray and bottle at the start of my outdoor time and pick up my new tray at the end.

I am in good health. They weigh me and check my vitals monthly. They do annual physicals.

At this point you are probably wondering what I do for laundry or what I get to wear.

The answer is simple. Nothing. I wear nothing. I am naked all the time.

You want to ask me, why don't I complain? I can't. I am a foreign prisoner, sentenced to 12 years for being stupid. If I serve the entire sentence, I will be 33 when I am released.

Being a foreigner in this prison brings no special rewards.

Only "special treatment".

On my eighth day I was held for longer than 30 minutes in the outdoor enclosure. I wasn’t sure as to what was going on. When the warden showed up, I was surprised. All she said was, “Your presence is requested by the Director of Prisons. He wishes to spend the day with you.”

And I refused. Big mistake. I was placed in a 4x4 box for the rest of the day, fed two pieces of bread dipped in a large bowl of water. The box was dark and cramped. There was a hole but no water. At night the window in the door was opened a crack and the warden asked me, “Still no?”

I said yes this time. I was removed, hosed down, given food and led to a room with a cot, a sink, a proper toilet and a bidet. A short time later, the Director entered, freshly showered and wearing a silk robe. There was a chair that he pulled up and sat down in. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, naked and nervous.

“You should feel privileged,” he said, “I don’t select foreign criminals very often.” I held my tongue, knowing fully well that an appropriate response would send me back to the box.

He undid his robe while sitting down, exposing himself to me. He was semi-erect. I tried not to look.

“Look. I have orders to put three prisoners per cell. Yours is one of the last ones that are still solitary. We can keep it that way,” he said, stroking himself until he was fully erect.

“And we can arrange for a shave every now and then, keep things smooth and clean, like you still are. Come, now pay your respect,” he said, nodding his head, beckoning me to blow him. I got up and approached the chair. I knelt in front of him and brought my mouth to his cock. He grabbed the back of my head and pushed my face into his crotch. His cock was fully inside my mouth, I nearly gagged. It wasn’t long before he exploded into my throat. I swallowed it all.

“Pathetic,” he said, looking disgusted, “I thought you foreign chicks knew how to give blow jobs. What are you good at?” He yelled out some instructions through the door. A guard showed up and opened the door, handing him a leather belt. “Bend over and grab the edge of the bed,” he ordered me. I did. He raised the belt high above his shoulder and brought it down with full force on my butt. I screamed in pain. He did it again and again, striking various parts of my back, my butt and the back of my legs. I was crying, begging him to stop. He did, only to drop his robe and push his cock into my pussy from behind. Shockingly, I was aroused.

“You liked that, you whore,” he sneered as he pushed deeper inside me. Thankfully he was wearing a condom. Just before he came, he pulled out, pulled off the condom, spun me around and squirted his cum all over my face. Then he slapped me twice, called me names, put on his robe and left. I heard him give more instructions to the guard. I slumped to the ground, exhausted and in tears. A guard came in, ordered me to wash up and then took me back to my cell.

Two days later, I was taken back to the same room. The DP came in, this time in uniform and said, “I expect a better performance this time,” and unzipped his pants. Since I took him while he was semi-erect, it lasted longer, but he still came quickly. He got up, once again angry, and pulled me up by the arm. He led me out of the room and shouted something to the guards. I was led down the corridor and out of the building. I was thrown into the back of a van where two male guards sat with their guns pointed at me. Both snickered and made comments that I did not understand. The van drove off, throwing me around the dirty floor, the guards pushing me with the soles of their boots from time to time as I bounced from one side to the other. When the van stopped I was pulled out and my hands were cuffed behind my back. I saw the sign above the entrance, “Sector 21 Men’s Prison”. I started to scream and beg. The DP was nowhere to be found. These two guards dragged me into the building. I was slowly led into a long corridor with narrow cells on either side. Each cell had steel doors with small windows and was 8 ft deep and 4 ft wide and in each cell was a naked male prisoner. I stood at the end of the corridor, staring at a red line that ran down the middle. The air filled with hoots and catcalls. My arrival had been announced.

“Walk slowly down the line. Do not stop or look on either side,” were my orders. I began to walk, trembling, fearing that the doors would fly open and I would be overwhelmed by dozens of horny naked prisoners. I did as I was told. Through the corner of my eye I could see the hungry looks on their faces as they leered at me through the tiny windows. I knew exactly where each hand was. Forty cells, forty prisoners, all jerked off at the sight of me walking down the corridor. All they got was a brief side view, but that was all. I made it to the end and had to walk all the way back. When I had made it halfway, I was ordered to stop and face the cell to my left. The inmate there got a full frontal view while the one in the opposite cell got a rear view.

“Bend over,” were the next instructions. The hoots and catcalls had never gone away, they were getting louder and reaching a crescendo. I fought back tears. I held my ground, bent over. I heard a key turn and a door open. I braced myself for the inevitable. It was somebody’s lucky day.

The lucky prisoner who got to make contact had to lick my ass. I tried not to find it pleasurable but it was. I’m not sure how he felt as he slurped his way up and down my crack, his saliva dripping down to my pussy. It ended soon as he was hauled back into his cell. The door slammed shut and I resumed my walk. Waiting for me at the end of the line was the DP, with his fly open.

“This better be good, else somebody here is getting a roommate,” he said. I teased and licked and sucked. It still ended sooner than he wished.

Thankfully, nobody got a roommate. I got a flogging and was transported back to my cell. That was day 10.

Thankfully, I got my period the next day and was ignored for five days.

The DP summoned me the next morning. This time I was in the warden’s office. The warden was standing next to him as he leaned against the table. She had already been told what to do. She had to shave me, whatever stubble I had grown in my short time in prison. She used a handheld depilator and went between my legs and shaved my underarm.

“Good,” he said, “Now kneel down and bow your head.” I did as I was told. All I heard for the next several minutes was the slurping sounds made by the warden as she blew the DP. The sounds were peppered with his moans. The blowjob went on forever. Then why was he lasting such a short time with me?

“Thank you,” said the DP. Then he looked over at me and said, “That’s how it’s done. You have much to learn. You need more practice.”

The warden took a drink of water and then spoke. “We have decided to move you to a different cell, one that is more suited to someone like you. In due time, you will have to opportunity to earn an upgrade to your current cell.”

“Of course, you have no say in this matter,” said the DP.

I was blindfolded. My hands were cuffed behind my back. My ankles were shackled and a chain was linked from my wrists to the ankle chain. A steel collar was placed around my neck and another chain ran my back, linked to my wrists.

I was led on a long walk down the road. People gathered to watch. They screamed and hooted.So primitive. So uncivilized, I thought. The few times we paused, I was given water to drink. The crowd remained orderly throughout. My collar was linked to the back of a pickup truck that drove slow enough that I could walk at a normal pace. My feet were sore. I was hot and sweaty. The walk seemed never-ending. My bladder was full, about to explode. My stomach growled.The screams began to fade. We stopped. My blindfold was removed. We were in a large compound, surrounded by drab buildings. No windows faced the compound which had some grassy areas. The guard accompanying the driver of the truck handed me some bread. He saw me squirming as I needed to pee badly. “Go here,” he said, pointing to a patch of dead grass. I had no choice but to go. I squatted and peed. I took the bread from him and ate. He held a water bottle near my mouth so I could drink from the straw. I guzzled what I could.

“Where am I,” I asked him.

“You’ll soon find out,” he said, unhooking me from the truck, which then drove off. The guard walked away, leaving me all along in the vast compound. Exhausted, I sat down on the concrete and waited. I badly wanted to wash and lie down indoors.

The guard returned a few minutes later, accompanied by a female officer. “I am the Deputy Warden here,” she said, holding a small box. She put the box down and took out six balls, numbered from one to six. Then she held a sheet of paper near my face.

“Let’s see how lucky we are today,” she said. I looked at the sheet. It read,

1. Return to original cell.

2. Start from zero, earn privileges.

3. Male prison, 14 days.

4. Hard labor, 1 year.

5. Male prison, 42 days.

6. Hard labor, 2 years.

“You will pick three balls,” she said, “And serve in the order in which you pick.”

My hands were freed. I massaged my sore wrists and she held the box before me, after shaking it. Very nervous, I put my hand inside and drew the first ball.

Number 5. I cringed.

I drew the second ball.

Number 3. That meant 56 days in the men’s prison.

I didn’t want to draw the third ball. But I had to. I drew number 6.

I had the worst luck. 56 days in the men’s prison followed by two years of hard labor. I began to cry. My wrists were cuffed again and I was led towards the drab building.

I was back in the same corridor. There were 40 of them. They had drawn lots. Each would get me for 23 hours in their cells.

On the days of my period, there would be two, I had to clean their cells, when they were outside. In the end there would be 6 days leftover. I didn’t know what would happen on those days.

The DP had laid down clear guidelines for them and for me. I would enter each cell at 7 a.m. Each prisoner had been given six condoms. It was up to them to share their food with me, though their rations were increased to accommodate me.

There were very few limits.

The first morning I was removed from my cell where I had spent the night, still shackled. I was unshackled and allowed to use a shower for 10 minutes. Then I was given a bowl of porridge and water. After I ate, I was escorted to cell 32. All the windows in the cell doors were closed but the prisoners knew that I had arrived as they started to hoot and holler.

The 8x4 cell was designed along the same lines as my old cell: straw mat, hole toilet, water hose. The prisoner was a well-built 26 year old. He clearly spent his time exercising. He wore a pair of tattered boxer shorts and no shirt. I had expected him to be completely naked. The boxers were barely clinging to him but he wore them anyway.

He said nothing for several minutes as he sat cross-legged on his mat. I stood by the door, petrified, expecting him to pounce on me any minute. The condoms lay near the foot of his mat, neatly arranged in a row. The other prisoners were getting louder, demanding to hear my screams, shouting out instructions to their fellow prisoner, but I understood little.

Finally, I spoke, mostly out of desperation, “May I use your toilet?”

“It will cost you,” he said sternly.

“Name your price,” I responded, surprised at how well he spoke English.

“Surprise me,” he said, “After you are done.”

I scurried over, squatted, glad to be able to go. I used the hose and soap to wash and got up. I walked over to him and knelt before his mat. He looked at me. “Your payment?” I asked and looked at his crotch which was barely covered by the boxers. He stood up and lowered his boxers and I noticed how well-hung he was, a little too big for me, I thought.

“Give me your ass,” he said as he stroked himself to an erection. I went on all fours. He slipped on a condom and entered my tight asshole.

So it began. 56 days of being treated as a piece of meat. The 5 day breaks were welcome but there was a lot of cleaning and scrubbing to do.

The price scheme was simple: toilet = anal, water = blowjob, food = pussy. Each morning, I was peed on and removed at 6 a.m., given porridge and water, allowed to brush my teeth and take a shower, before my next visit.