Chapter 18 – The Pit – Part 3: Submission
Revolutions: 814792 (the 1 revolution at the Pit does not count towards the convict’s sentence)
We bring the convicts back to the X-frames. Here, their legs are placed in the heavy shackles. Their arms are cuffed, and a short chain is threaded between the cuffs and the legs and bolted to the floor, inhibiting any large movement, and preventing them from trying to stand up from the kneeling position they now find ourselves in. Side by side, they face the crowd, who look down on them with merciless faces and sinister grins.
“And now, for the last challenge today. We will test our convicts if they truly are penitent. Do they accept that they are here to pay for the crimes they committed, and that until that debt is repaid, until every last turn of the Wheel is made by those tough, strong bodies, as prescribed by their sentences, that they have but one overarching command: to serve?”
Claps and whistling from the crowd.
“Convicts,you will now prove your submission to this facility and its staff. You have half an hour to make as many wardens as possible cum.
The looks on the convicts’ faces is one of horror. Shock in disbelief at the words they have just heard. 32 looks at me, then Jimenez with its piercing blue eyes before lifting his head high, as if to welcome this final ordeal.
Meanwhile, 33 curses.
“Fuck you all! What is this?!?! You can’t do this! You all can go get fucked!!!”
“Actually,” I reply calmly, “We are just about to do the fucking.”
The wardens begin to strip completely, going buck naked like the convicts, their cocks bulging and erect in excitement. They form a line behind Jimenez and me, with both of us in front having first dibs. I tower over 33, a mass of muscle before it, my large cock a horizontal plank of wood mere inches from its face, dripping with precum. It stares back with eyes of hate.
“Jimenez and I get first dibs on our convicts,” I announce. “But then its first come first serve, boys.” I set my stopwatch to 30 minutes and announce, “Begin!”
32’s mouth immediately swallows the length of Jimenez’s pecker. All 6 inches of it! It goes completely to work at him!
33’s mouth remains close as the line behind me begins to murmur.
I smile at it. “Haha. 33, defiant, as always.”
“Fuck you, Torque. No way I put your cock in my mouth. I’ll never submit to you!”
“You can take away my clothes, chain me, collar me, shock me, throw me in solitary confinement, force me to perform backbreaking work each and every day but I will not be your sex slave!”
“Listen, convict, I’m taking this as a sign of a lack of submission from you, and that’s a serious infraction here at SisPen. Ever seen the lashes on my back? You think I got them while working the Wheel?” I reveal.
33 is puzzled.
“If you don’t submit, we have every kind of implement here to make you do so. I have been lenient about it so far, just in order to push you, using that strong defiant nature you possess. So submit on your own free will, hate and defy me in secret I’ve no problem with that, but the challenges are meant for you to know, to drill into that thick skull of yours, that you are a convict, and your purpose is to serve.”
In saying this, I have given it a way out for its manliness, that despite the humiliation it is now forced into, it will think that it is a challenge, a test of its masculinity. In submitting to this final challenge, 33 will think that it is fact proving that it can take what brutal punishment we dish up, not just for its strong body, but for its mind. And it will emerge the victor over us, stronger both in mind and body.
33 takes the bait. It submits, but in defiance.
“Fuck you,” it says. Before slowly stretching out its neck and takes in my cock into its moist wet mouth.
“And no teeth, I add” as I take a sip of my beer.
Despite the lack of experience (of that which I know of), 33’s does an excellent work of stimulating my pecker, taking in those 8 inches almost completely and showing impressive skill with the tongue. It takes but a short while before I reach the climax, considering the arousal display I have already been treated too in the last two challenges, ejecting a thick wad of cum into the warm mouth.
“Swallow it. It’s faster.” I say before pulling my dick out and walking away, giving the next warden his turn.
So the clock ticks away as wardens down the line cheer and boo, asking the man in front to just “get on with it” so they can have their chance. The ones at the back are the most annoyed, seeing as it would be impossible for them to have a chance now, some leave the queue, content to just see the show going on, stroking their own cocks as the convicts work.
Yet, 33’s defiance would cost it in the end. It was constantly one customer behind and by the end of the 30 minutes, it was behind by two. 33 with 5, and 32 with 7. Certainly this challenge had many factors, including the virility of the wardens themselves and how aroused they already were, though most were already close to cumming themselves on account of the previous challenges. Then again, the purpose of the challenges has never been to make them fair. It was after all, just fun and games.
But not for the convicts.
I walk in front of the convicts and address the crowd.
“We have a winner! 32!!!”
Cheers and whistles from half the crowd. Murmurs from the other.
Jimenez walks up to me and announces as well.
“Friends, tonight, we have proven that soldiers make the best wardens. Ain’t that right, ex-con?”
Annoyed, I must admit defeat.
“Fine, Jimenez, you win. You are a better warden then I.”
“Haha,” laughs Jimenez. “Only for this year.”
“Friends, despite my victory I must admit that our warden Torque and Convict 33 put up a good fight. The display of endurance, strength and submission we have seen today may have just made this the best New Year’s Party we have thrown till now. Let this be a lesson to all of us to be more dedicated in our work, to strive for excellence and to accept and face every obstacle head-on with vigor and passion. This goes to all of us, both wardens and convicts.”
“Well said,” I add, happy at Jimenez’s diplomacy. The bet was, anyway, made in jest and good fun. “I propose a toast: to a new year, of working together, and to pushing ourselves and our convicts further and harder than before. Then maybe we’ll win…next year.”
We toast and drink down our beers.
“Now to the victor go the spoils.”
“32, for your victory, you will receive the loincloth to provide you with a little modesty while you work. But be careful, it’s very fragile,” I snigger.
Some wardens help me to unfasten the convict’s handcuffs, and pull it up to lock it back to the X-frame. I tie the dirty rag around the convict’s waist, which barely leaves anything to the imagination, the tip of the convict’s cock still protruding from the bottom of the rag.
“In addition to this, you will be given a dinner of steak and fries, hand-fed by your warden. As well as all the beer you want. You will hang here with us for the night on the X-frame. But tomorrow you will be led back to your cell, but have the day off.”
Surprised at this generosity, 32 salivates immediately. Convicts have nothing to eat except the nutrient-rich gruel, which I can say from my own experience, tastes like shit. The realization of eating something other than mush turns 32 into a whimpering dog.
“Warden Jimenez, thank you, sir. Thank you for choosing me, Sir!”
“As for you, 33” I turn to my convict, the loser of the games. It stares at me in anger.
“33, you know what the price of failure is. You will now be branded on your right glut with your convict identification number, so we will always know who you are even if your chest is turned away from the view of the cameras as you march around the Wheel. You will then hang on this cross for the rest of the night, but with your back facing front, and you will be gagged, so you will not be able to participate in the festivities. Your ass will be exposed to be used by any warden tonight as he sees fit.”
Cheers from the crowd.
“Yes, you will hang. And then tomorrow, you will be returned to your cell to perform your duty, just like any other day. The fact that it is a new year should be of no consequence to a convict. Add this failure to your other crimes.”
“ I’m innocent,” growls 33 back.
“ Innocent or guilt are important concepts for freemen. Once you enter SisPen as a convict, this no longer matters. What matters is you submit, and you serve,” I answer.
As the branding iron heat up, we reconfigure 33’s position so its back is exposed while its front lies on the X-frame. Then, the number ‘3’ is slowly and carefully seared into its flesh and the convict winces. Once more, the ‘3’ is heated up and placed once more to sear the flesh and mark the convict. Then, it is gagged.
We spend the rest of the night getting wasted, 32 included. For the evening, we relaxed our rules for the young convict, and allowed it to speak plainly with us. After feeding it (which it claimed was the best thing it had ever eaten in its life), we let it slowly get drunk, holding its beer and giving it a sip whenever it requested one. We exchanged a few words. I find out that its real name is Joe, how it was arrested after stealing from a grocery store. As it was its third time caught, it was declared guilty with barely a legal proceeding and sentenced to this new program, to be part of the country’s prison reform by hard labor. It let in a bit of its experience serving the Wheel : Its disbelief at the superhuman task at first, realization of the power of pain to compel men, and the boring, soul-crushing work, punctuated by random acts of cruelty and deprivation. Many wardens learned for the first time then the inner workings of the convict’s mind as it struggled at the herculean task it was compelled to do.
As the night wore on, and 32 got increasingly wasted, it spoke of how it was trained under the harsh hand of Jimenez: the madness-inducing discipline Jimenez demanded from his convicts; how under him, a convict must stand at attention with chest puffed and all muscles on display when its convict identification number is called, how many lashes and shocks it had received for forgetting to say “Sir” or being too slow in answering its warden when addressed. It talked a bit about how its mind moved from fear, then defiance, and finally submission to Jimenez. Yet it somehow didn’t demean it. In fact, the young convict oozed with virility and charm, learning despite the hard discipline and punishment, that it too could thrive and grow strong under the heavy yoke of Jimenez, both in body and mind. Even as it strove daily in its physical toil, it learned to channel it willpower to one of marathon endurance, willing itself to want to please its warden, and to serve the Wheel. I think a few wardens learned something that night, and for that I was very glad.
All this within earshot of 33, as it hung in defiance and silence on its X-frame. Every once in awhile, a warden, those who were not serviced during the short 3rd challenge, would head over with some grease in his hand, and spread the convict’s ass cheeks, rub the grease on his throbbing manhood and slide it into the convict’s ass, whilst groping the convict’s hard well-defined body. 33 suffered the humiliating pummeling over and over again through muffled cries that went on throughout the night.