David and Becy - Casavana Prison

This story is entirely fictional and is intended as a fantasy in the world of female domination and male submission. It involves tease and denial with the use of a male chastity device, cuckoldry and corporal punishment. No part of this story is written to suggest such lifestyles were realistic or believable. The characters, named and unnamed, are not based on any living or deceased persons. All locations, whether named or otherwise, in this story, including the nation of Siskovia Province, are also fictitious and any similarities to any that exist anywhere, are coincidental. If you are not interested in fiction in which males, whether willingly or forced, submit to dominant females, or find such subjects objectionable and in opposition to your own preferences, I would strongly suggest you exercise your right not to read any further.

Chapter 4

Day 2 - Sunday August 2nd 2015

I can't remember when I went to sleep on that first night, but I woke up in a panic hearing the echoing sound of a distant door being opened. I jumped up quickly, expecting the three warning knocks on my cell door, and I winced when I felt the aches all over my body. My back and all my joints were stiff and the cuffs had been digging into my ankles, but I wanted to make sure I was ready for the guards. I had my usual morning erection which reminded me about the mess I'd made the previous day from masturbating. I had a quick look at the mattress and wall as best I could in the minimal daylight coming from the small window, and thankfully saw nothing that could incriminate me.

Seconds later, the two lights came on, flooding my cell, followed by three sharp bangs on the door that echoed loudly around the stone walls. I knelt down on the stone floor, placed my hands behind my back and bowed my head. There was no hiding place for my erect penis. I didn't dare look up as the door opened and the guard walked in, right up to me. I could see the boots she wore, and her tanned, smooth legs.

"Good morning, prisoner, it's six o'clock, time to get up," Gabriela said, cheerfully. "You have done well to get into position correctly. Did you have a comfortable first night in your new home?"

"No, Madam Gabriela," I answered, quietly. My mind was saying 'six o'clock, what the fuck!'

"Oh," she said, sympathetically. "Why were you not comfortable?"

"I'm stiff and I ache all over, Madam Gabriela."

"Is the bed not nice enough for you? Would you prefer to sleep on the hard floor?"

"No, Madam Gabriela, the bed is better than the floor."

"You have to get used to it; you will get nothing better. Now stand up and look at me."

I rose to my feet, aches remained in my joints, but my penis still stood to attention. Seeing the beautiful Gabriela before me in a short, dark blue skirt and white vest, her blonde hair pulled back to a ponytail behind her head, there was little hope of my erection receding. She looked down at it.

"Why is your cock big like that?"

"I usually wake up in the morning with an erection, Madam Gabriela."

"Are you sure you are not looking at my body with lust to disrespect me."

"No, Madam Gabriela, I promise, it happens every morning."

She placed the palm of her hand so gently against the shaft of my penis and traced a path lightly with two of her fingers up to the throbbing head. It felt incredible and I was desperate for more, and she knew it. Having got the reaction she wanted, she took her hand away.

"Just remember, prisoner; to look at guards for pleasure is not allowed." Her words were spoken softly and so sexily.

"Yes, Madam Gabriela, I know the rule." I immediately knew I'd made a mistake speaking.

"Did I ask you a question?" she said angrily.

"No, Madam Gabriela."

"So why do you tell me you know the rule? I am not interested in what you know or don't know unless I ask. Apologise to me."

"I'm sorry, Madam," I said, my voice faltering.

"Madam what?" she shouted.

"I'm sorry, Madam Gabriela."

"Lie on the bed face down," she ordered, producing her long leather strap that had been hitched to her hip.

I lay flat on my face on the mattress knowing my first punishment was coming.

"I will give you three strokes for speaking out of turn and three strokes for not saying my full title. Lie still and make no sound or I will add more."

She positioned herself level with my bottom at the side of the bed, raised her arm high and brought the thick, narrow strap down hard across my bare buttocks. The pain ripped through me and I tensed my whole body; I struggled to hold in my cry, just managing to stay almost completely quiet. But I knew there was more to come, and within a couple of seconds, the second stroke landed full and hard with a loud smack. The pain from the first stroke hadn't subsided, and the pain felt even worse, but again I held in my cry. Then the third came quickly and painfully followed by the fourth. It was a wicked punishment from the leather strap, and from the look on her face when she ordered me to stand after the final strokes had been delivered, it was a punishment she'd enjoyed giving.

She stood facing me while my hands rubbed my throbbing buttocks.

"Stop touching your sore ass, you are not allowed to soothe the pain away." She looked down at my penis now reduced to less than semi erect. "So, the punishment stopped making you feel sexy. That makes me happy, it shows you got no pleasure from my strap."

She waited for a moment saying nothing, her eyes staring triumphantly at me. I could tell she was waiting for me to speak again, but I now realised just how strict the no talking rule was, and I didn't intend feeling that strap again any time soon.

"Are you hungry for breakfast?" she asked.

"Yes, Madam Gabriela."

"Stay there, I will get it from outside."

I watched her lovely, shapely figure and long, smooth, tanned bare legs as she walked out of the cell and pick up a tray from the floor. I couldn't believe my penis was beginning to stir once more, turned on by the girl who had just beaten me with a leather strap. In the short time it took her to return, I tried to turn my mind off sex, but it was so difficult. She held the tray out to me. "Take everything off the tray and put on the floor," she ordered.

She had brought me two pieces of dry toast and a plastic cup of tea. My stomach was aching with hunger as I hadn't been given any food yesterday, despite being promised an evening meal. This breakfast, although looking tasteless and pathetic, made my stomach yearn for it. I didn't risk eating anything without permission for fear of reprisals. I did as she said.

"I will return for the plates in ten minutes and bring you a litre of water. Do not start to eat until I lock the cell door and bang twice; I will check through the peep hole, do you understand, prisoner?"

"Yes, Madam Gabriela."

"Now, you may thank me for bringing your breakfast."

"Thank you for bringing my breakfast, Madam Gabriela."

She left the cell, locked the door and gave it two loud bangs. I picked up the paper plates and sat on my bed. I tried not to eat the toast too quickly, making sure I sipped at the disgusting lukewarm tea from the small plastic cup to help my digestion. The toast was cold and almost burnt on one side, but being so hungry, I relished every crumb. Despite trying to make it last, I must have finished everything within a couple of minutes. I placed the plate and the empty cup on my bed and awaited the return of Gabriela.

It seemed ages before she came back. Three loud bangs on the door which meant I had to get onto my knees on the floor which I did in no time. She marched into my cell and placed a litre bottle of water on the floor without a word. She picked up the plates from my bed leaving the plastic cup next to the bottle, and all the while I remained with my head down until she left my cell and locked it. Two loud bangs followed, and I knew I could get up and do what I wanted... except masturbate.

So that was breakfast over with and now I was left alone with absolutely nothing to do. This was going to be a struggle to get through, however many months it was going to be. I looked across at the shower and decided it was time to give it a try. I didn't have much hope that the water would be hot, there didn't seem to be any temperature control on it, but at least I would be able to keep clean.

Before that though, a problem was looming, I needed a shit and I remembered the camera fixed high up in the wall. I never used to have any problem peeing while Becky was in the bathroom, but that was the limit. I could never have had a shit in front of her, and the thought of doing that while a bunch of female guards watched on the security monitors horrified me. There was no chance of me holding it in for the next however many months, but could I at least wait until lights were out at night time. Maybe the night vision wasn't that clear, but I really needed to go there and then. Morning time, right after I'd had something to eat was my usual time; it was like clockwork.

I went over to the toilet and sat down on the seat trying not to look up at the camera. Just embarking on that first stage was bad enough. Standing naked in front of woman with my hands tied behind my back and my ankles chained was humiliating. Lying face down on a bed allowing a young woman to beat my bare buttocks was humiliating. But what I was doing now was a level of humiliation I would never get used to, but I knew I'd have to. I'm not going into any more detail, but I completed the act as discretely as possible.

Next was the shower. I stepped under the shower head and looked at the short lever that would set it off. After a brief thought, I decided to step out from under the head before turning it on; I had no idea what it would be like. I pulled the lever and after a couple splutters of air, the water came cascading down, actually quite powerfully I was surprised to see, but not surprised to feel it was cold. I let it run for a few seconds hoping it would warm up, and fortunately it did. Not hot, but manageable.

I stepped under it and lifted my face towards the jet, allowing the water to run down my body. I wondered if there was a time limit on how long it would last, and fearing there was, decided to be quick soaping myself down. Using the hard block of soap on the little tray, I rubbed it all over my body. I hated being dirty, and was at least thankful there was a certain element of hygiene to be enjoyed in this prison. As I suspected, the warm water didn't last long, but I'd used my time well and was thoroughly rinsed down before it became unbearably cold. I turned it off and grabbed the towel I'd been given, not the biggest or thickest towel I'd ever used, but it just about did the job.

It was a strange feeling not going to drawers and wardrobe to find clothes to wear. It was as though there was no finality to getting ready; every morning for as far back as I can remember, I showered when I got up, dressed, and then had a sit down with a cup of tea and a read of the paper. Even in prison for those few weeks back home, I could make a drink in my cell when I'd got up and read newspapers or books provided. Here, there were no clothes to put on and nothing to read. It actually led to a minor panic attack as I looked around my cell; there was nothing to do, nothing to read, nothing to even look at. I could hear no sounds from outside, neither could I see outside. The window was high on the wall at ground level outside, and the cell door had no window to look through.

I sat on my hard, straw mattress leaning my elbows on my knees and looked down at the stone floor. I felt trapped, even a little claustrophobic, not something I usually suffered from. After a while, I stood up wondering what to do, there must be something, I thought, but there was nothing in the cell I could use to stimulate my mind. This was going to be awful to get through if I was going to be here for several months. Did Becky really know what she was getting me into when she risked that extra turn of the card which resulted in a drastic increase in my sentence. As much as I wanted to go home, I knew things would be different between us, much different, when I eventually returned.

Surely, they must have books available for prisoners to read, I'd only been awake for under an hour which would make it about quarter to seven in the morning. It would be another five hours before a guard brought my lunch. I looked at the door. I looked at the camera up on the wall at the bottom of my bed. I looked above the toilet and was horrified to see another camera. How many more were there? I began to scan around the room at ceiling level and discovered two more. They had me covered at every angle. I could feel eyes on me; eyes that were amused and sadistic, the eyes of cruel young women laughing at my plight. Another feeling of humiliation surged through me and I felt my penis starting to grow again. I wanted the guards to see me and my erection and I wanted them to enjoy the torment I was enduring, if only I could see them and lust over their beautiful, sexy bodies. My mind was drifting into delirium and it was only my first morning.

I lay down on the bed on my back and I allowed my erection to grow. I was still tired from the early morning wake up call, so I thought it was worth trying to fall asleep again. It was no good, my mind had drifted to Becky again and that increased my semi erection to a full blown one. She had treated me so badly, but that was our sex life, Becky the dominant, cruel selfish one, me, the submissive, eager to please, willing to accept anything she wanted to do to me. But this was the furthest she'd gone, so far, I was still feeling so pissed off with her, but at this moment I would have given anything to be back home with her; better the devil you know than the devil you don't know.

I know I owed Madam Popescu a lot of money, but surely we could have come to a more normal arrangement, like a monthly payment. Why did Becky allow such a deal with a woman who was involved in massage parlours, female domination dungeons, casino ownership, and the owner of a Siskovian Private Correctional Facility which also took paying customers for both pain and pleasure. My own wife had virtually tricked me into legally giving up my freedom to a bunch of truly sadistic women for a few months who were entitled to abuse me in any way they wished. Well, that wasn't entirely true; I'm a grown man and always had the right to say 'no' at any time. I just wish I'd exercised that right. But I had learned a very hard lesson, one I never thought was even there to be learned, and it was that I could not trust Becky any longer.

As frustrated and annoyed as that made me, I would have loved Becky to walk in here right now to see me in my humiliation as she had done yesterday. I was desperate to see her, but I didn't know when she would come back, or when I'd be released. I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself, but it was a struggle with my erect penis throbbing and begging for attention. I'd masturbated the previous afternoon and seemed to have got away with it, despite all the cameras I'd just discovered. I wasn't going to tempt fate again.

I jumped off the bed when I heard the noise outside my cell and was kneeling on the floor in position even before the customary three warning knocks had been given. I'd thankfully fallen asleep for a couple of hours and spent the rest of the morning drifting in and out of consciousness. Even though I could possibly end up with the leather strap wrapped around my backside again, I waited in excited anticipation to see who had come to my cell.

Footsteps marched up to me and stood in front. I knew from the sounds of the steps and the smell of the boots, it wasn't Gabriela, and when the woman said: "Stand up, prisoner." I knew it was Izabela who was here to see me.

I quickly stood up and looked at her face, I really wanted to smile but didn't know if that was allowed. She looked younger than Gabriela with a smaller, sweeter face. Her hair was jet black and pulled back into a short pony tail. She was wearing long boots to just below the knees and a short cream skirt. The sleeves of her dark blue blouse were rolled up.

"Why is the room untidy?" she demanded to know.

How could it be? I thought. There was nothing in it, apart from a mattress and pillow, a block of soap, toilet roll, towel and the bottle of water, there was nothing I had any control over.

"I thought it was ok, Madam Izabela."

She marched passed me, pulled the mattress, picked up the pillow and threw it in the shower which was still a bit damp.

"Everything is a mess," she said sternly. "Towel not folded, toilet paper not straight, look at the bed. Everything is a mess. Do you want lunch or should I tip it down the toilet like you deserve?"

"Please don't tip my lunch down the toilet, Madam Izabela."

"What have you done to earn lunch?"

"I'll tidy up, Madam Izabela."

I rushed around fixing my mattress, picking up my pillow, folding the towel and hanging it properly, I even straightened the toilet paper. When I'd finished, I stood before her hoping she wouldn't throw my lunch away, I was starving.

"If you want lunch, you must have three strokes of the strap for your untidy cell. Your choice, three strokes and lunch, or no strokes and no lunch. Tell me what you choose."

I didn't want either choice; I just wanted my lunch without the strap. I'd received the strap from Izabela yesterday and she hit harder than Gabriela had this morning even though she was thinner and smaller. But I had no choice. "I'll have to take the strap and have my lunch, Madam Izabela."

"Really, you want me to beat you?" She didn't act surprised, she just wanted confirmation.

"Yes, Madam Izabela."

"Ask me properly."

"Please, Madam Izabela, beat me so I can have my lunch."

"How many strokes and how hard?" She was really enjoying this.

"Please give me three hard strokes with your strap, Madam Izabela."

"Get on the bed face down with hands on your head."

I obeyed her. Why did I ask for hard strokes? She'd given me the choice; I just wasn't thinking straight.

"Take your punishment in silence or I will add more."

She was lethal with the strap, delivering hard, fast strokes that whipped hard and loud across my bare buttocks. I struggled to stay silent but couldn't hold in some muffled cries, it was so painful especially after the strokes I'd taken earlier.

"Stay on the bed while I bring your lunch in."

I did as I was told, even keeping my hands on my head, terrified to provoke more strokes. That girl could really lay it on with the strap, my backside was throbbing and I was desperate to soothe it with my hands.

"Get up and take lunch off the tray," she ordered as she re-entered the cell.

It was a tomato sandwich made with two rounds of white bread. It had been roughly thrown together and looked untidier than my cell had been. On the tray also was a cup of tea which was no doubt lukewarm again. I was very hungry and at the point of accepting anything that was offered, so I took everything from the tray and put it down on the floor next to my bed.

Then I decided to risk asking a question, but the correct way, the way I'd been told. I put my hand up; how humiliating did that make me feel. Izabela looked at me with curiosity.

"I remind you, prisoner, if this is not a satisfactory question, you will get punished, understand?"

"Yes, Madam Izabela."

"Tell me what you want?"

"It's so boring, could I have a book to read or something to do, please, Madam Izabela." I was so sick of saying 'Madam Izabela' every time I spoke.

"Do you think you are here on holiday?" she asked, angrily.

"No, Madam Izabela."

"You are here for punishment, to have a bad time. You have nothing good, nothing at all, you sit on the bed all day and think about what you are missing outside. You are here for punishment, boredom, hard time and humiliation." Her hands were on her hips as she laid into me with her words.