Downward Spiral

by Patrick Richards

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  Suddenly she pulled her car into a parking lot and spun around. Without saying a word she drove out to the ranch. Gloria wasn’t there, but it made no difference. She cuffed my hands behind my back as soon as I stepped from the car and pulled me out into the walker area. After lifting my dress and pulling down my panties, she tethered my testicles to one of the arms by the cable loop.

  As she continued to yell, my dress was ripped off my back. That was followed by the spandex and lace panties, leaving me wearing just a bra, garter belt and stockings. She laughed as she walked away.

  She stopped only long enough to push some button on the control box which started the walker. Immediately it started to turn, yanking me around the enclosure at nearly four miles an hour.

  “Mistress, please,” I yelled.

  “Hopefully Gloria will be back in a while to save you, ‘cause I won’t. Frankly, I don’t give a damn. Maybe when your balls are ripped off, your attitude will change.”

  “Please, Mistress, I’m sorry.”

  She never looked back. As her car drove out of the yard, all I could do was concentrate on keeping up with the walker, as it led me around a never ending circle. I knew if I tripped or fell, I was doomed. The powerful mechanism could not be stopped by a thousand pound horse, so what chance did I have?

  Round and round I went, as the sun baked my skin from the cloudless sky above. Temperatures rose, making it unbearably hot, as my endless journey continued. There was no break. All I could do was walk at an accelerated pace and hope someone came by to save me. But, they didn’t.

  I listened for cars, but they didn’t stop. They continued down the highway while I walked and jogged around the circle. I looked up at the sun occasionally and realized it had moved towards the west, meaning that a couple of hours had passed with still no relief. My feet hurt from walking just in stockings, and yet it didn’t end.

  When I thought I could go no more, I was encouraged by the constant tugging on my balls. I was hot and drenched in sweat. My throat was parched. I need a drink, but there seemed to be no relief in sight.

  I started to drag my feet and knew that I wouldn’t last much longer. I realized that once I fell, the machine would just continue around, dragging me by my nuts. Then I thought, maybe it would be best if they were gone. They’re pretty much useless now anyway. They don’t function. The hormones have shrunk them down to the size of cherries. The only thing they’re good for now is to be beaten, kicked and crushed by my Mistress to cause me pain.

  I was slowly slipping away when the machine suddenly stopped. I looked up and saw someone next to the control box. I had never heard anyone drive in, but I was saved. It was Mistress Gloria.

  “How long you been here, slave.”

  “Since about eleven.”

  “Well, I guess you’ve got your exercise for the day. It’s going on three. So what’d you do this time to piss her off?

  “She wants… she wants to….”

  “Let’s get you inside and give you some water. Then you can tell me all about it.”

  “Well, it all started last night. I was working at the hotel and got arrested.”

  “Yea, I know. You made the paper.”

  She put it down in front of me so I could see the headlines.

  “Roberts Turns Tricks: Local business owner arrested for soliciting sex in area hotel…”

  There was even a picture of me dressed as a woman, cuffed and being put in the squad car. It even showed my face.

  “But, all charges were dropped. How could they print that?”

  Just then the phone rang. It was Lilly.

  They talked for a while before Gloria spoke. “She wants me to lock you in a horse stall for the night, so you can see what it’s like to be in a cell for the next thirty days.”

  “Whatever.”

  “There’s that bad attitude again.”

  Then she told my Mistress that she would handle it, and she could pick me up in the morning. She gave me a bottle of the special beverage and one of those bars before locking me in a stall. I just lay down in the straw and waited.

  No one bothered me, and I slept for most of the night. Finally I heard the door open. It was Lilly.

  “Come on, slave. Get up and get that stuff off.”

  She laughed. There wasn’t much of me that wasn’t burned from yesterday’s sun. I guess I’d have some tan lines for a while.

  I was taken to the other end of the barn and put in the wash stall. My arms were fastened to the cross ties and pulled straight out towards the sides of the stall. Then she picked up the hose.

  “You can’t ride home in my car looking like a pig.”

  Using cold water straight from the well, she hosed me down. Some horse shampoo was poured over my head and using a soft brush, I was scrubbed from head to toe. Finally she rinsed me down with the icy cold spray once more.

  “You stand here and dry while I go talk to Gloria. When I get back, you’d better have something to say about your behavior.”

  She wasn’t gone long. After I was unhooked from the ropes, I got down on my knees in front of her.

  “I’m sorry Mistress. I was out of line. I’m truly sorry. I always fantasized about being a slave to a wonderful woman like you. It’s what I always wanted. You own me and can do whatever you want with me. I will not disobey you or question your authority again. Please forgive me.”

  “Get up.”

  As I stood there before her, she reached down and grabbed my balls.

  “The next time it happens, these come off,” she said emphatically, giving them a solid yank. “Here, comb out your hair. There are clean clothes in the car. Go get them and get dressed.”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  We didn’t go right home. She turned up Broad Street and pulled into the back of a warehouse.

  “There are six guys in the break room, waiting for you. Make sure they’re all happy when I get back.”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  The same routine continued for the rest of the week. I was pimped out both day and night, but Friday was a new day.

  “We’re going to try something new tonight. I don’t have anyone scheduled, so I’m taking you downtown to troll the clubs and bars.”

  “So tonight I become a hooker instead of an escort,” I said a little sarcastically.

  “Watch that attitude, buster,” she warned. “When you make $500 you can get a cab and come home, got it?”

  “I don’t like this idea, but I’ll do what you say. I’m sorry for my attitude, Mistress.”

  “That’s better.”

  My first stop was at a club just off Court Street. I picked up a blond headed kid about 19 and gave him a blow job. He only had twenty bucks, but I took it. Then I decided, maybe this is easier than I thought. As I passed a small coffee shop, I stopped and looked in. A guy was sitting near the window and caught my attention. He looked right at me and seemed to lick his lips in a sexual manner. So I walked in and sat down.

  “You looking for a little action, honey?” he asked.

  “Maybe, what do you want?”

  “How much for both.”

  “One fifty.”

  “Okay.”

  He got up, took my hand and led me into the back of the shop. Forty minutes later I walked out with two bills.

  “Not bad,” I said with a little smile and a whole lot of confidence. I decided to stop at Dunkin Donuts and get a cup of coffee. It had been a long time since I’d had one. When it was done, I stepped out on the sidewalk and looked around, trying to decide which direction to go. Just then a shiny black Mercedes pulled up. I hoped it wasn’t Charles. The dark tinted window slowly went down, and a guy in his thirties with fancy clothes asked, “How much?”

  “Fifty and a hundred.”

  “Get in.”

  He opened the door by leaning over the seat. As I sat down, he said, “Got ya, you little whore,” and snapped a handcuff on my wrist. He drove around the co
rner where a police car was waiting. They pulled me out, finished cuffing me and took me to the police station. After reading me my rights, I was booked with all the formalities. There were no detectives to question me this time. I was put in a cell with a number of other street walkers.

  “Hey, don’t I get a phone call?”

  “Later, the lines are all busy.”

  Two hours later I called Sam’s cell phone.

  “I’m in the slammer again.”

  “Sit there for the night and wait for tomorrow’s arraignment. Plead guilty, and I’ll pay your fine. You can pay me back later.”

  “Yea, thanks,” I said rather dejectedly.

  Thing went as he said. When I got in front of the judge he asked, “So is it Sissi or Tommy today?”

  “It’s Tommy, Your Honor.”

  “Good… I’m glad we have that understanding. This is the second time you’ve stood in this court for solicitation. It had better be the last. Your $500 fine has been paid. Sign the papers with the bailiff.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor.”

  As I started to leave, he stopped me. “Your grandfather wouldn’t be very proud of you, would he?”

  “No, Sir.”

  Two weeks later, I was busted again. I picked up a really good looking man in his mid- twenties in that same club where I started hustling. He asked me if I’d consider doing a couple more guys at a little party across town. I agreed if the price was right. I told him I’d do anything they wanted until midnight for $600. He agreed. We went out and got into a bright red Mustang convertible. He put his hand on my knee before shifting into low gear. With tires burning up the street, he pulled into the first gas station. There were two black and whites waiting.

  The next morning I was in front of the same judge. He looked down at me from the bench in disgust.

  “I really didn’t expect you back so soon. You probably should have a lawyer present this morning, son, but you refused to have one. You are charged with prostitution and soliciting sex from an officer of the law in the second degree. How do you plea?”

  “Guilty, Your Honor.”

  “According to penal code 647 (b), I could fine you up to $1000 and sentence you to six months in the County Correctional Facility. I realized that you were divorced and somehow lost everything to your ex-wife, but you have to find another line of work. Considering the circumstances I’m fining you the minimum court cost of $150 and sentencing you to serve 60 days in the county jail. There will be no reduced sentence for good behavior. You will serve your entire sentence. Trust me; I’m trying to help you. Do yourself a favor and give considerable thought to the rest of your life while you’re there.”

  He hit his gavel on the table, and a uniformed officer cuffed me and led me from the courtroom. My attorney got there before I was carted away. He assured me that I got a good deal from the judge.

  I was put in a transport with three other prisoners. A deputy secured my handcuffs to a ring on the metal seat and placed leg irons on me as well.

  “Isn’t this a little extreme?” I asked him politely.

  “I’m just following the rules. I never know how dangerous the prisoner is that I have to transport.”

  “It’s okay with me. I was just wondering. Besides, I like handcuffs.”

  He just chuckled.

  When we got to the jail, we were all escorted to the processing section. The security door opened electronically, and we were taken in one at a time. I was first. Once inside they used a metal detecting wand and checked me out. When they passed it down the front of me, it beeped loudly.

  “Anything metal in your pants or on your body?” the guard asked.

  “Yes, Sir. I’m wearing a metal chastity cage.”

  “A what?”

  “A metal chastity cage on my cock and balls.”

  “This I’ve got to see. Let’s get your clothes off. We have to do a full body search and cavity check anyway.”

  They removed my cuffs and made me place all my clothes in a bag provided.

  “Holy shit. Hey, Frank, you’ve got to see this,” he yelled to one of the other guards.

  Three huge, muscled deputies looked me over.

  One of them grabbed hold of the cage and examined it closely. “Does this thing come off?”

  “No Sir. It takes a special key. My ex-wife locked it on me before our divorce and destroyed the keys. It’s also triple hardened steel that’s impossible to cut. Trust me; I’ve tried. Locksmiths can’t make a key, and it’s impossible to cut without using a cutting torch. I’d rather wear it than doing that.”

  “So where’s all your body hair?”

  “Lasered off. It will never grow back.”

  “Okay, there’s got to be a story about the tattoo.”

  “My wife, now my ex-wife and I played bondage games to add some spark to our marriage. One of our favorites was a Mistress and slave thing. Well, one thing led to another, and she decided she wanted me tattooed. It wasn’t until it was finished that I found out what she picked. We laughed about it at the time, figuring only she would ever see it.”

  “This story just gets better and better,” Frank said with a chuckle.

  “So you dress as a woman and have breasts.”

  “You don’t have time for that story.”

  “Boy, the inmates are really going to like you. You know, this facility is a new open concept, minimum security jail. It’s the newest thing in this state. It is a dormitory facility for non-violent, short term inmates. There are no doors on any of the cells. Everyone showers together and exercises together. There’s pretty much no privacy. Those guys are going to see all of this, and you’re going to be in big trouble. I suppose I can try to make some other arrangements for you, but it could take a while.”

  “That’s okay; I’ll deal.”

  So they continued with the cavity search and issued me the regulation orange jump suit and the few other things I needed, before leading me into the next room.

  “I’m Bill, one of the guards here in this section.” He was a large, black man with bulging muscles. He looked at the clothes and other things I carried and removed the boxers from my pile.

  “I don’t think you’ll be needing these once you’re in there, if you know what I mean. Even the jump suit is questionable. There are a lot of guys in there who will want a piece of that skinny white ass. You can make it as easy or as hard as you want, but they will always win.”

  “Thanks, but I can take anything they can dish out.”

  “Well, go on in and find a bed. I’ll check on you tonight. You’d better get dressed.”

  The door clicked open, letting me in the dorm. Nearly twenty guys carefully looked me over. There were several cat calls and whistles, as I wandered through the common room, looking for an empty bed. A tall, young black guy walked right over to me.

  “You’re bunking in here with me,” he said, as he led me into one of the open rooms. I put my stuff on the vacant bunk. “My name’s Dontrell, but you’ll call me Sir.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  He pushed me up against the wall and unzipped my jump suit. I just stood there while he pulled it down off my shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

  Dontrell looked me up and down and closely examined my cock cage.

  “Tiny, little white dicks deserve a thing like this. How long you been locked up ho?”

  “Too many months, Sir.”

  “Instead of Sir, you’d better call me Master!” Then he poked his finger into my tattoo. “Imagine, a black stud like me owning himself a slave! Believe me boy, I own your lily white ass while yous in here, and I just might be your pimp when we gets out. Would you like that, ho?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  Then he turned to all the guys who stood outside the cubical watching.

  “I gots myself a white slave now. Just think; we all get white meat for dessert after dinner.”

  That became my life for the next six months. He pimped me out to his brothers
every night. After he was finished with me, I was sent from room to room to satisfy all their needs. I was fucked in the showers and sucked big black cocks during the day when any of them wanted it. There were only cameras in the common area, so anything was possible. After all, there were nineteen horny guys in that section, and I was their only release. During exercise time out in the yard, I was sent to a storage room where I was used every day by at least two of the guards. Dontrell got special privileges for providing me for their entertainment.

  One afternoon when I entered the storage room, I was met by a buxom black guard from the woman’s section. She smothered me for an hour with her big bubble ass, making me service her cunt. She held her hands over her mouth to quiet her moans of pleasure as I took her over the edge. We she’d finally had enough, she made me lay over some boxes while she raped me with a night stick.

  There was little time off during those six months. Certainly there was never a moment to think about the rest of my life, as the judge had suggested.

  The morning I was released, Dontrell told me to look him up in another month. He’d make a fortune with me down on Green Street when he got out.

  Lilly met me outside the jail and took me home. Luckily she brought me something to wear rather that a dress.

  “Well, I see you survived.”

  “Barely, Mistress… just barely.”

  “Well, we’ll get you home and let you get settle in for a day or so, and then we’ll get you back to work.”

  I just shook my head back and forth.

  “You know, I think you lost some weight in there. Didn’t they feed you?”

  “Oh, I had lots of stuff to eat both day and night, but what they served me isn’t ever on a menu,” I responded, but I don’t think she got it.

  “You look a little tired too. Look at those dark circles under your eyes. Didn’t you get much sleep?”

  “Not more than an hour or two a day. There are lots of things to do when you’re in jail. They keep you rather busy.”

  “Well, where do you want to stop for lunch? I’ll treat.”

  “Anyplace that sells real food.”