You will see this posted by IndyWhippingBoy
This is what happened to me Saturday night from PrisonPunishment on this site!
I approached a modest ranch home in what seemed a nice subdivision on the NW side of Indianapolis. The lawn was well-cared for. The home had a willow tree, which made me smile nervously to myself; willow tranches are a traditional implement for whipping!
I took a deep breath as I approached to door. They had been very clear that this situation would begin the moment they opened the door and continue until it closed behind me; there would be no getting out of it, or discussing any further what was going (or not going) to happen. The prison punishment role-play would be as real as possible.
I knocked rather timidly and held out my hands, as they had instructed me to do. The door opened immediately, handcuffs were slapped onto my wrists just as a police officer would do, and I was yanked into the house.
“Come this way,” the woman said, and began leading me, her had gripped tightly on the handcuffs between mine. As I was hurried along a hallway and down some stairs, I had a moment to look at them. They both were dressed in jail guard uniforms, rather simple but realistic enough. Neither was particularly attractive, and both were rather large – he was well over six feet and 250 pounds and was not a guy to be messed with physically. She was normal female height and weighed maybe 200. Heavy but not obese, and could move quite quickly, as I was finding out!
I was led down a fairly steep staircase into a dimly lit basement made of concrete block with a concrete floor. A spanking bench/table was set up in the middle, with a dim light suspended over it. There was very little else in the basement. There were a couple of punishment implements hanging on one wall but I didn’t get much of a chance to check them out. I was led over to one corner. The cuffs were removed.
“Strip,” the woman ordered.
A little surprised and nervous, I hesitated. She lashed my legs with a strap and I yowled and began getting my clothes off! I remember thinking that I did not notice her carrying a strap when the front door opened, and I wondered where she had gotten it.
I felt myself getting hard as I got out of my clothes. The excitement, anticipation and fear were all swirling around. Both of them watching me undress was erotic.
In a moment I stood naked before them. I felt very helpless.
“Pick up your clothes,” the man said. It was the first time he had spoken. I noticed that he, too, was now carrying a strap. I quickly picked them up. The woman held out her hands and I gave them to her. She turned and walked away. I realized I had no idea where she was taking my clothes, and the feeling of helplessness deepened.
“Over by the corner.” the man ordered, pointing to one corner of the basement. I walked over to the corner but not quickly enough; he gave me a shove … and suddenly freezing cold water was cascading down upon me! There was a shower nozzle coming out of the wall in the corner that I had not noticed.
I gasped and tried to come out from under the water but he lashed me twice with the strap, once on the buttocks and once the upper thighs.
“Get back under there,” he ordered. “All prisoners must take showers.”
He held something out to me. “Soap up,” he said. “And wash every inch.”
I took the bar of soap. It was the old-fashioned rough kind, looked homemade. At this point the woman was back, and they watched me as I soaped up and washed myself, shivering and gasping in the freezing water. It was extremely humiliating. I had lost my erection from the cold water but I was mentally very turned on. I also was scared to death of the punishment that was coming. I realized that this was no role-play any more, at least not for me. It was real; I had no way out; if I cried for help down here, no one would hear.
When I felt I was clean enough I made eye contact with them—they both were staring at me. The woman nodded and the man came over and turned off the shower. He pulled me a few feet by the arm and said, “Turn around and put your hands against the wall and spread ‘em.”
I did so. He tapped my thighs with the strap and said, “further.”
I spread my legs. I knew what was coming. They had said that there would be nothing sexual, but this was sexual for me. I had asked that the woman do it, but they had refused to promise who would.
“Stick it out,” she said.
I stuck out my bottom as far as I could and still keep my hands on the wall. This might be painful, I knew, and I had to fully cooperate by making myself as open and relaxed as possible. In my position I could not see behind me, and so I will never know who did it. I felt something touch my anus; it was cold, obviously some kind of metal device. It slipped into me surprisingly easily. It must be some kind of medical device; I never did get to see it. It penetrated me and probed for just a few seconds; then it was withdrawn.
“Back under the shower and rinse your ass,” the man ordered.
I groaned … and he lashed me with the strap. I hurried back under the freezing water. I bent over facing them and pulled my cheeks apart so that the water ran through them and made sure I was squeaky clean.
The man turned off the shower and pointed with his strap to the other end of the basement. “Go sit at the table,” he said. I noticed for the first time a wooden table against the far wall. I was dripping wet and freezing and they had offered me no towel. But I quickly strode to the table and sat on a hard wooden chair. There was a document in front of me, two pages side by side, with print large enough to read without picking it up. The one on the left was a contract; the one on the right was my sentence. My driver’s license—which I had agreed to have in a pants pocket—was sitting next to the papers, as was a pen.
The woman picked up a set of papers on the other end of the table and began reading what I could see in front of me.
“Mr. _____ _____, driver’s license number __________, on this date _____ hereby asserts and agrees that he has requested judicial physical punishment and he accepts it willingly and without force. He further asserts that he his not being held against his will. He absolves and holds harmless the signers below of all liability and responsibility for any injuries, bruises, welts or other marks that may result from this punishment.”
There was room at the bottom for three signatures. They had already signed. It was the first time I had seen their names, and that gave me a good feeling. We were, in some sense, a team!
“You may choose not to sign,” the woman said, “in which case you will be dismissed immediately.”
I picked up the pen and signed it as quickly as possible, trying not to think about what I was doing. She took the paper from me and handed it to him.
“Very well, then,” she said. “We will now read your sentence.”
To be continued….
