Yahoo Prison

By evilman

Chapter 1

My wife is beautiful, I have always known so. 31 years old, blond, 5'7, 115lbs, Hispanic looks, olive skin and a great figure, not a full round figure but very sexy, slim with a little curve in the right places, a gently shaped stomach and firm pert breasts. Eye candy, the type of girl who drew looks in the street.

Elena has always been strong and determined, intelligent and proud, whilst also very stubborn. God we have had some arguments, her of course totally illogical, but like all women, it always finishes up with my feeling guilty. Her stubbornness and strength have always been a total turn on and frustration to me. Ever since I first got his hands sticky as a teenager I have dreamt of girls in trouble, caught, snared, used, interrogated – sexy, tough and suffering for it. From when I first met Elena she has been the girl in these dreams, naked, suspended, sweaty.

Dreams are one thing, reality is something else completely. As hot as she is, as flirty as she can be, she is as straight as they came, no kinky desires at all. It drives me round the bend at times, wanting to see her used, her submitting for my pleasure, as I sit back with a beer and enjoy the scene. When we're both drunk I often ask her, talk about my desires to see her hurting, suffering for me. She always laughs, pretending I am joking, but then we play a little light bondage as I fuck her on the bed, her wrists tied above her head, pumping and pawing at her toned body. She moans and bites her lip, often telling me not to be so rough, as I try to imagine her naked body taut and bruised while I fuck her.

Despite the best efforts I know Elena does not enjoy these games, there is just nothing submissive in her personality at all.

Yahoo Messenger came as a relief to me, the day I found the chat rooms I knew I could expand my dreams, talk with like minded people, and live out my fantasies in chat. Though I joked about it online I never believed it would ever become real, that I would see what I wanted. It was not that I did not want to watch her really suffer, I did, it was more about the safety, especially my safety, during and after. I had no guts for it. What if she reported it? Realized I was involved? Or if I became too involved during? I wanted to see her on a rack, not myself.

It had started very, very slowly. As usual I had been chatting away to various people, some guys, some girls, some guys pretending to be girls etc. when a message popped up;

'HI'

Nothing unusual in that I get many messages when on line. The handle caught my eye though;

'JAILFUN4USALL'

I have always had a prison thing. Often as I daydream away, Elena appears on holiday with me, and ends up in some deep South American Jail where, in the deepest cell her screaming round the room, making the guards watching smile, as her piss drips from the steel table onto the white tiled floor.

Rather than ignore the message, as I did with many, I replied;

'Hi, interesting handle'

And off the chatting went, taking its usual course, 'JAILFUN4USALL' asking about Elena, my responding and the chat slowly building to our desires for her, and a discussion of what she would suffer, how she would suffer it, and on and on.

'Can I add u?' came the question, 'please do' I typed at the end of a particularly brutal shared fantasy. So we added each other to our friends.

I chatted infrequently with 'JAILFUN4USALL', though with time these chats became more regular, becoming an almost daily event. Elena was taken to pieces in almost every way possible, each time the fantasy involving a different and more inventive scenario, sometimes she was willing, often forced, sometimes she was tortured, sometimes she just danced. The third time we chatted I shared a couple of pics of a blurred Elena in a Bikini, a session or two later a few of her un-blurred and on holiday, clothed, but sexy in her skimpy tops and jeans.

And so it went on, 'JAILFUN4USALL' became Greg, Greg felt he knew Elena very well, and I got to know a little about Greg. Greg the Prison warder, ex-military divorced and to quote Greg, 'a professional sadist'

Then

'Want to meet for a drink?'

'yes'

and so we met.

Chapter 2

The bar was easy to find, half way between we said, somewhere neutral, safe. It took a couple of hours driving to get there. I sat at the bar and then Greg wondered in. Large black guy maybe 220lbs defiantly military type, dressed casual and we talked. One beer became 3, Elena suffered, raped, beaten and as we talked we got on, friend to friend. Chat moved from Elena to him, me.

Greg worked as a senior guard at a jail a couple of hours away, low key place, miles from anywhere on the edge of the desert, nasty place he said, the worst guys got put there, real head cases – rapists, pedophiles, 1 ^st degreer's, ever since the death penalty was abolished in the state they had to put the somewhere.

We agreed to meet again, same place a couple of weeks later.

As 2 meetings turned to 3 our fantasies became tougher, his album of Elena became bigger and my desire to watch her scream became stronger.

'Why not come and see where I work he said? Stay over have a good few beers with some of the guys?'

Had I been waiting for this? I do not know, but the chance to fit a real prison into my fantasies was exciting, my interest peaked I agreed, and then spent a week nervously waiting to drive up to the jail.

The drive took hours, or at least seemed to, arriving late afternoon I found the motel and settled in the local bar waiting for Greg.

The evening started its usual way, a couple of drinks, some chat and then it took another, possibly deeply hoped for turn.

'Have you ever thought about having Elena on a steel table for real, taken past anything human, all we have dreamed of actually happening for our fun'

'and I mean for real'

Yes, of course many times, but what about after? The risks, surely made it impossible. Then it got interesting.

The jail, said Greg, is a very close knit community, most guys will never get out, and the guards are there because we have certain ideas which make us suitable, and unsuitable for much other work. Hell, the warden hand picks us all for our understanding of the guys there, who don't go home each day.

We are like a club he went on, the guards, the inmates, we have an understanding, they keep it easy for us and we make it good for them. We don't lock them away at night, they get pretty well all the want, work each day is like going to a large house with all you mates, the Warden being the landlord.

We carried on talking,

'and we all put on the odd show, he said, a kind of bi-annual event, something we can all enjoy, the warden even had a special auditorium built'.

'you want to come and see it?'

His car pulled slowly up to a grey building that looked more like an asylum than a prison, we had passed through the fences a good while back.

We approached the main door, It was strange, almost like visiting someone's home, an older guy opened the door and shook my hand like a long lost friend – the Warden.

As I sat in his 'office' with Greg I realized the warden knew as much about Elena as Greg, I knew as soon as I walked through his door. A large notice board on one wall was covered with the pictures I had passed to Greg, all sizes, some small, others blown up large, a few looked dog eared, stained, torn.

Monitors sat in the other corner, It was like no jail I had imagined, more like a gentleman's club. I felt deflated, not what I wanted for my fantasies. The inmates were easy to distinguish, all wore grey overalls, but that was where the differences stopped, I could see guards laughing and joking with them over a beer, or sitting watching some shit on TV together.

'Your wife is very beautiful, sexy, hot' continued the Warden, 'has Greg told you of our shows?'

'Something about a bi-annual show' I responded, 'an opportunity to all enjoy yourselves and relax.'

'Yes' came the answer, 'we wondered if you would like to attend our next one, help us make it happen. Can I show you the auditorium?'

We seemed to walk down the stairs forever, from the Wardens first floor office towards the basement, as I passed by room after room I caught glimpse after glimpse of Elena peering out of one photo poster or another, on so many walls.

Eventually we arrived at a large steel door, passing through it we entered what I can only describe as a small, windowless cell, a mattress in the corner and various rings and socket like holes in the walls. Opposite was another door which we passed though, and up a small flight of stairs. At the top I felt we had walked out into a large dark space, Greg flicked a switch and the room was suddenly filled with light.

Room was perhaps not an apt description, space, auditorium, call it what you will, It made me hard just seeing it.

We were standing in the center of the room. A circular area of about 25 feet in diameter, with seats tiered around the outside rising up like a cinema, disappearing into the darkness. Greg cut in, with a smile.

'we can fit 200 in here, excluding those involved in the show.' He said, with a wink.

20 feet above my head were 4 large TV screens, arranged in a square, and clearly visible from the seats around. The whole place felt rather like a small basketball arena, but that is where the similarity ended.

The floor of the central area was covered in white tiles. In the center was a complicated looking table with a shiny steel top, at each corner was one half of a police cuff. The table was well lit, with the glare of spotlights above shining off it. Around the edge of the tiled ring was a shallow drainage gully, and there was also a drain immediately beneath the table. A low 'wall' ran around the edge of the circle separating it from the seated area. At every 90 degrees there was a gap, allowing people to climb the steps between the seats, or enter the circle. Half way along each section of wall was a steel cabinet, 2 with draws, 2 with doors.

'Open one if you wish,' the warden said.

Opening a draw I saw many steel objects, in the middle were some thin tubes of differing thickness and length, from about 2mm to 6mm across and 20 cm to 40 cm. moving to a cupboard I saw a number of wooden boxes stacked on one shelf, and a number of whips on the shelf below. On the top shelf was some video equipment.

'Are you interested in seeing our show?' daft question. Of course I was.

'Well, we will only need one thing from you – your wife,'

'What will I see in the show?' I whispered, shallow breathed.

'What you want, your wife worked on in ways she never dreamt of. Your wife making noises you have never heard. Inhuman tortures you have only imagined and her sweat, her tears, her blood.'

'And after?' I asked

'You will get her back in a recovered condition, and who will ever believe her? She will not know you were here, and she will never know where here is'.

'How?'

'tell us where she in next Friday night, and we will arrange it all, we will have all weekend.'

To be continued…..

Chapter 3

Friday came, I had hardly been able to contain myself, in the preceding days, watching her prance about, seeing her undress at night, imagining what was to come.

I had told her we were going to see a friend at the prison, 5pm were 'visiting hours'. I got her to dress as I wanted, simple but sexy, tight blue jeans, trainers, and a tight white t-shirt. Underneath I noticed her put on her sheer black bra and knickers.

On arriving at the jail it was all I could do not to cream myself there and then, Greg and a couple of other guards meeting us, all formal and professional. I was to go one way to be 'searched' prior to visiting, she was to go into another room. Once she had gone Greg relaxed.

'What will happen to her now?' I asked.

'Nothing immediately,' he replied, 'you remember the room under the auditorium? She will be taken there and held until the show is ready to begin, then, she will be very busy.'

I followed Greg, back towards the auditorium. As we got closer I could hear the rising noise of a crowd. Entering the room I saw a busy scene, all the seats were full, except a couple at the front where we were to sit. As we entered, the room hushed and then there was a cheer for me.

There was suddenly silence again as the screens above flickered into life.

As we all watched I could see the room below the auditorium. We watched as the external door opened and my wife appeared, she looked as I last saw her, but slightly disheveled, she was dragged in by two guards, one on each arm. They threw her down on the floor and left, shutting the door behind them.

200+ pairs of eyes watched as Elena picked herself up off the floor and started looking around. Everyone was studying her intently as she looked around, body shown nicely in her clothes. We watched as she took in the room, the chains on the walls, the stained floor, and laughed as she started banging on the door, her screams of anger and vengeance relayed over the speakers.

After maybe 10 minutes of watching the Warden entered the ring with 4 of the biggest most ripped guys I had ever seen. Motioning to two of them we watched as they disappeared down into the holding sell and saw them appear on the screens. Elena on seeing them backed slowly into the farthest corner, then as they came closer kicked out suddenly, catching one right in the balls and sending him to the floor. I had to laugh, just as I hoped, as feisty and tough as ever. The guy still standing got a good fist across his nose as he managed to grab her, pinning her arm up high behind her back.

As they brought her up, the place went silent, a guy on each side, pinning her arms up between her shoulder blades, her body pulled up, taut by the pressure, tummy flat, peeping out between her shirt and her jeans, legs long, bra pushed out. She was shouting and screaming, spitting, kicking, but stopped suddenly as she saw the arena, the crowd, then started again, re-doubling her efforts.

The warden motioned and another two guards approached the struggling Elena cautiously, bending down they grabbed her legs, attaching a leg iron to each ankle and then each via a hook to a ring in the floor. Next they took what appeared to be a broom handle and pushed it between Elena's back and her pinned arms, so it ran parallel to her bent arms. These were then tied off securely to the wooden bar. Next a noose was lowered from a ceiling winch, and placed around her neck, there was a clack, clack as the winch was tightened a little, drawing Elena's already taut body up further, and securing her in a standing position. The Guards stepped back.

The Warden looked round at the crowd, arms wide and a roar went up. What a sight she was, pulled up tall, feet anchored to the floor, back arched and chest thrust out, t-shirt hanging off her breasts, a 2 inch gap between her tight jeans and her top.

'What would you all like first?' came the question.

A murmur and then 'strip her, strip her, strip her' came the chant.

The Warden walked up to Elena and said something quiet to her, her face went from fear to anger and she spat full in his face. A roar went up, but the warden just smiled, wiping his face with his sleeve.

'She'll suffer badly for that later' Greg said standing next to me.

The Warden began to stroke and touch Elena, running his hands over her taut struggling body, her ass, her tummy, pushing her shirt up to her breasts, her taut tummy breathing in and out, bottom of her black bra visible, grabbing her cunt through her jeans and giving it a good squeeze.

He then stood back and took a knife from one of the guards. He approached her, grabbing the front of her t-shirt, she spat at him again. The warden just smiled, spittle dripping off his chin. Her slowly sliced her t-shirt from neck to waist, and pulled it violently open and back onto her shoulders. The crowd strained forward to see better. Elena closed her eyes. The shape of her breasts were visible under her sheer bra, the shadow of her nipples clearly showing, her tummy curving down to her jeans.

The jeans were next, until she was standing in her black bra and knickers, standing taut, displayed, chest thrust forward, ass out, tummy slightly curving to her knicker band.

'Auction time,' shouted the warden. 'What will be bid to remove her lovely underwear and show us all what we have to work with?'

The bids came in;

'A pick of cigs'

'3 phone cards'

After a couple of minutes a small weasel like guy won, with, 'a home made dildo'

He stepped down to the arena with the dildo proudly held aloft, nothing to impressive about it, 10 inches long perhaps and 2 inches wide, but as he handed it over to the warden, he twisted the end and as he did about 100 little drawing pin spikes moved out from its body, to protrude about a quarter of an inch. The Warden smiled and took it, motioning over to Elena, who had redoubled her struggling, which just had the effect of making her look even hotter.

The weasel walked round her several times, allowing his hand to trail over her body as he did. He stopped in front of her, running his hands slowly up and down her sides. He took the wardens knife and slipped it under the front of her bra. It pinged to her sides and fell to her floor. Again the crowd strained.

Her breasts were not big, maybe only a b cup, but pulled taut by the position of her tight body, they looked fantastic, half inch soft nipples sticking out, and a wonderful shape running from her neck down to her tummy button. I could now see she was beginning to gleam, sweat I guess, from fear, and the heat of the lights on her. The weasel felt up her breasts, pulling and squeezing, Elena kept her eyes closed.

'Any verdict?' shouted Greg from the side.

'Firm, very firm,' came the reply to a cheer.

Next her knickers came off; sliding down her legs as the strap each side was cut. Elena squeezed her legs together, trying to hide her cunt from view, but everyone could see it was as bare as a babies, her closed slit with her clit peeking out.

'Don't worry,' said the weasel, we will see lots of your cunt later, as he lightly tapped her there a couple of times. Elena bit her lip.

The weasel returned, reluctantly to his seat.

Elena looked so good, standing there naked, lights highlighting her every curve, breasts looking so tempting. The warden decided to start with them.

He took a small wooden box from one of the cupboards, and opening it took out a needle which her showed to the crowd. About 2 inches long it had a little copper head.

'We have 30 of these,' he said' 'shall we see how long it takes her to start screaming?'

He moved slowly over to the struggling Elena. Her gyrations just served to excite the crowd further. He grabbed the nipple of her left breast between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it out slightly, and slowly and deliberately drove the needle into the side of her breast to its full 2 inches. Elena was a sight to behold, sweating, stock still, every muscle of her body tensed and taut against he bonds as the needle went in. She bit her lip again.

The warden stood back to take another needle from the box.

'Play tough' he said, 'It will be more fun to hear your screams'.

To be continued……