David and Becky - Casavana Prison Ch. 07

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 7

Day 11 -- Tuesday August 11th 2015

I was trying to count the days I was in this hell hole, but you would be surprised just how difficult such a simple thing was. I reckoned I'd reached the eleventh day but I wasn't absolutely sure. It was the only thing I had to do to make my brain work; count the days, but remembering each morning what number I was up to was harder than I imagined. I had been given a second day of hard labour just two days earlier, exactly the same as the first time, carrying one hundred bricks, one at a time, from one end of the yard to the other to build a new stack. Then take them all back, one at a time returning them to where they'd been originally.

It was thoroughly exhausting and caused me to ache all over by the time I'd finished, and I was sure what they were making me do was illegal, but I could do nothing about it. It looked as though I was going to endure many more days like this during my stay. At least, if I was to do that every five days, it was enabling me to keep better count of which day I was up to. First time was on my fourth day, second on the ninth, I realised I could keep track that way, which was why I reasoned I was on my eleventh day.

My frustrations had been growing, caused by the despair and hopelessness of my situation, but I was also having some moments of lustful pleasure. These periods of arousal were sometimes focussed on Madam Popescu who I'd seen only once in my cell since my incarceration began. I kept imagining her, dressed immaculately in a short skirt and jacket holding a long cane before her. In my mind, I would see her place the cane down on a table while she took off her jacket and roll up the sleeves of her blouse. Then she would pick up her cane and swish it hard through the air before taking up her position beside a poor unfortunate naked man fastened down to a whipping bench. I imagined that man being me, with Becky watching from somewhere in the room. Why I would have those dreams, I don't know. I hated the pain from the canings I'd had from Gina, and it was made clear to me, Madam Popescu caned much harder than she did. But something inside me was tempting my curiosity, and the reaction of my penis was an indicator that curiosity was growing.

I hated being here for an undisclosed time, but there was the slightest spark in my mind that had I come here voluntarily for just a few days, it would have been erotically exciting, but that would have been on my terms. A true prison experience was being locked away for as long as you're told, and to be treated worse than you like. That was the regime I was living under, and I knew it would be making Becky very happy.

But this day became the first of many desperately low days I was to have. Breakfast had come; the usual two pieces of overdone dry toast and a cup of lukewarm tea, after which, I'd been left to lay on my bed, bored stiff. When lunch came, Gabriela was not in a good mood, although she didn't speak much. I was in perfect position as she walked in, but she informed me I was late getting down. She ordered me to lay face down on the bed before giving me three hard strokes of her leather strap on my bare buttocks. It was the hardest and most painful I'd had from her, especially with little pause between strokes. I couldn't help but cry out for the third, which earned an extra punishment. She took my thin sandwich which consisted of a thin slice of ham on two rounds of thin sliced bread and threw it on the floor. She trod in it and smeared it across the stone floor before emptying the tea all over it.

"That is for crying like a baby when I punished you. Clean the floor perfectly or I will do the same to your dinner later." She stormed out of the cell and left me in a state of shock.

I was starving already, but not starving enough to eat the remains of the sandwich, smeared across the floor. I was so angry with her for doing such a thing; my backside was stinging from the strap, my stomach ached with hunger, and I felt so frustrated that I'd have to put up with this for months. I ran towards the cell door and hammered on it with frustration.

"Madam Gabriela!" I shouted angrily. "Madam Gabriela!" I shouted again. She must be able to hear me. I tried again: "Madam Gabriela, Madam Gabriela, Madam Gabrielaaaaaa."

I looked up at the camera. "Madam Gabriela ... Anybody ... Please help me. I hate it here, please get Madam Gabriela or Madam Izabela." My voice was yelling at such a volume they must have heard me outside the building.

My frustration was getting worse and I continued shouting as loud as I could. "Get Madam Popescu," I yelled. "Right now, I want to see her, now, right now. I demand to see her; I demand to see Madam Popescu. Get her, now." I was throwing my pointed finger at the camera in anger and frustration. If they could see me, they were doing nothing about it. And they continued to do nothing about it until I ended up lying face down on my thin mattress fighting to hold back tears of frustration. My heart was pounding and the sense of despair I felt was all consuming, I did everything I could to try and calm myself down. For once I didn't have a problem with an aching erection, this was far beyond that, and everything I tried to think of to pacify myself came to nothing. I was on day eleven of at least ninety days, and that was if my sentence was three months.

I couldn't get my head around just how cruel Becky had been, suggesting to Madam Popescu that I should not be told how long my sentence was. My wife would have fitted in here perfectly as a guard, although she only seemed to be aroused by my suffering. She would have preferred to give pleasure to other men while I watched, not torture them as she loved to do to me. The words of Dr Petran still rang in my ears about Becky's perverse ideas of being a loving wife, but I already knew, she had only confirmed them.

With those thoughts, I fell into a disturbed sleep until I was suddenly dragged into full consciousness by loud bangs on the cell door. I jumped off the bed and threw myself onto the floor as the padlocks were released.

Madam Gabriela strode in; I recognised the sound of her boots. "Stand up! I have brought your dinner."

I quickly stood to my feet with my hands at my sides, penis hanging limp. I looked straight ahead at her forehead taking care not to catch her eyes.

"What is wrong with you?" she demanded.

"I'm sorry, Madam Gabriela, I don't understand what you mean."

"Your eyes, they are red."

I didn't speak.

"Have you been crying like a baby?"

"No, Madam Gabriela."

"Do not lie to me or you will get punished severely. I will give you one more chance, I ask again; have you been crying like a baby?"

I didn't want to admit it to her, but I had little choice as she would surely have strapped me again. "Yes, Madam Gabriela."

"Why?" There was no compassion in her question.

"I am so frustrated being here, I just want to go home."

She smiled. "Don't you think every prisoner wants to go home. It is punishment to be in prison. The punishment is living here in bad conditions with guards that make life harder for you."

"Yes, Madam Gabriela."

"You have been in prison in the UK. Did you cry like a baby then?"

"No, Madam Gabriela."

"So why do you cry like a baby here?"

"I think the main reason is not knowing how long I'll be here, it's torture not knowing."

"It is part of the punishment your wife requested."

I nodded, but said nothing. She turned away and walked slowly behind me and around my cell before taking up her position once again right in front of me.

"Do you want me to say something to you that would make you happy?"

I was suspicious, but I answered: "Yes, Madam Gabriela."

"I know when your prison sentence will end. Do you want to know?"

"Yes please, Madam Gabriela." My hopes rose.

"You know I am not allowed to tell you ... but ... I saw a plane ticket printed out to Heathrow dated for three days time. It was on Madam Popescu's desk this morning."

My spirits rose considerably.

"Would it make you happy if it had your name on it?"

"Yes, it would, Madam Gabriela." Was this just a trick, or was I really going home after the original two weeks. My brain was thinking fast and all the pieces were falling into place; that was why I wasn't told my sentence was for three months. By saying it was being held back from me was a way of avoiding telling me it was only two weeks.

"I will get your food from outside," Madam Gabriela said, bluntly, turning away. She returned with a plate of potatoes and cabbage with a healthy looking piece of chicken, and a plastic cup of coffee. There was actually more there than any other meal I'd had. "Take the plate and drink and I will go. Someone will come to collect it later, make sure you are ready."

Without another word, Gabriela left me, slamming the door, locking it and banging twice. I was considerably happier than I had been before she'd arrived. I was looking forward to seeing Becky in just three days and going home. But, would she come and meet me? Probably not, as it was an extra return flight she'd have to pay for. That was no problem, she was sure to be waiting for me at the airport back home, no doubt with a big grin on her face. I was elated and I settled down to eat the cold, but slightly improved meal I'd been given. All my anger at Becky melted away and the thought of once again being in her arms lifted my spirit. Of course, I would insist, from now on, our games would have to be toned down; I would never allow a situation like this to happen again.

For the rest of the evening, I lay on my mattress in the growing humidity of the Siskovian summer. Being underground kept the heat up, I was glad I wasn't going to be here in the winter, but maybe being beneath ground level helped keep it warm for those who were. The light went out at midnight as usual and I found my erection coming back to life as I imagined the fun I would be having, even if it was tease and denial fun, in just a few short days. I drifted off into a contented sleep for once.

Day 12 -- Wednesday August 12th 2015

I must have been in a very deep sleep because I woke with a start on hearing three sharp, but not as loud as normal, bangs on my cell door. I hesitated, thinking I may have dreamed it, but then when I heard the keys going into the cell door padlocks, I leapt from my bed and dropped to my knees on the floor. My erection was raging after what must have been a very erotic dream, pre come dripping onto the floor. I hoped that wasn't going to get me into trouble. With my head facing the floor, I barely heard the footsteps of my visitor entering, and when they stopped a few feet before me I awaited the instruction to stand.

"Sorry," the voice said, almost sheepishly, "I wondered why you stayed there, I have to tell you to get up, don't I? Stand up!" The final instruction was assertive.

This wasn't Gabriela or Izabela, I recognised the voice of Elena who I hadn't seen since my fourth day when I was doing my hard labour. I stood up quickly, the positive thoughts I'd gone to sleep with the previous night having reignited. Elena was a very lovely looking girl, she must have only been in her mid twenties; she had lovely blonde hair and a fresh, happy face. She really didn't look cut out for femdom style work, but she was supposedly in training for it.

"Madam Gabriela is having the day off today, so they gave me the task of bringing your breakfast. It's the first time they've allowed me to do this alone, I'm glad my first one is you."

Mindful of the rules, I kept my mouth firmly closed, I was determined to do everything correct during what I hoped were my final two days.

"Did you have a good night's sleep?" she asked.

She seemed to be ignoring my erection, was it out of politeness to save my embarrassment, I wondered.

"Yes, thank you, Madam Elena."

Then she did look down at my penis. "Did you have some nice dreams?" she laughed.

"Wonderful dreams of going home."

"Oh, I thought it was a while before your release."

"I have it on good authority, I'm leaving in two days."

Now Elena had a proper look at my penis. "You haven't had an orgasm since you arrived, have you?" she said, sympathetically.

"No," I lied.

"I've never seen a penis so rock hard, you must be absolutely bursting to come."

"I am," I replied.

"Look, I'll be honest, I noticed it as soon as I walked in, would you mind if I felt how hard it is. I promise I won't make you come, I'd hate to get you in trouble, the camera would pick it up."

My heart skipped a beat at the anticipation of this beautiful sexy girl holding my frustrated penis. "Not at all."

She reached down and wrapped her hand around it, it felt so good and a slight moan issued from my lips.

"Oh, that feels so hard, you poor man, it must be dreadful for you."

"It's utterly unbearable."

She let go after running her fingers up and down the length. "I won't do it too much, it must be maddening me touching it like that, I wish I could make it better for you. I do love giving hand jobs." She then looked curiously at me. "But anyway, you said you're going home in two days, I thought you told me your sentence was a minimum of three months."

I smiled at her. "Oh, they probably haven't told you, but one of the guards said she saw my plane ticket back home on Madam Popescu's desk yesterday morning."

"Are you sure it was your plane ticket?"

"I was told it was mine." Doubts immediately drifting into my mind.

"I know Madam Popescu is flying to England to spend time at her casinos. Even I saw that when I was in her office."

A dark shadow seemed to fall over me as I recalled what Gabriela had said, or what she hadn't said. She never mentioned my name was on the ticket. The fucking cow! I almost said this out loud.

I must have looked dazed to Elena as her face changed to concern. "Oh no, did Madam Gabriela tell you it was a ticket for you?"

"Thinking about it, she didn't say who it was for, but she led me to believe it was mine."

"That's awful! That's a terrible thing to do to someone." She reached out to me and her hand instead of touching my arm, diverted to my penis again. "Oh, I really wish I could make it up to you." She wrapped her hand around my throbbing member and squeezed it before quickly letting go. "No, that's adding to the cruelty, I'll go and get your breakfast; hopefully something to eat will take your mind off what she's done to you."

When she turned to fetch the tray from outside, I saw the wonderful shape of her lovely buttocks through her skin-tight leggings. How I would have loved to bury my face in there; I couldn't believe my mind had switched so quickly to sex after the news I'd just been dealt. Gabriela was evil to let me believe I was going home considering how depressed I was. Elena brought the tray in and I took the plate on which sat two sausages, a peeled boiled egg and a plastic cup of tea. She also put a litre bottle of water beside my bed.

"I don't know if I'm bringing lunch for you, but if I don't see you, please try to cheer up, this ordeal won't last forever." She left my cell and locked me in, remembering to bang twice on the cell door.

I looked at the food she'd brought me and a sudden wave of anger flooded me. I threw the plate at the cell door and dashed the cup of tea on the floor in the shower. I lay back on the bed and put my hands to my head; the frustration was driving me insane. There was nothing I could do about it; I was thoroughly trapped and under the control of these evil women. Only the half British girl, Elena seemed to have any sort of compassion, and she was soon to be brainwashed into being another addition to their evil ranks. If only Becky would come and visit me so I could explain this was much worse than I'm sure she imagined it would be. But knowing her, and discovering more about her each day, I doubt she would do anything to help me. But I still wanted her ... Why?!

After a few minutes of feeling totally rock bottom, I began to notice a stirring in my penis. The helpless frustration was turning into sexual arousal. My legs were open wide and my penis and balls were fully exposed to the camera. The thought of the female prison guards watching me at that moment I found wildly erotic which increased the passionate blood flow to my penis. Before long it was rock hard again, and I moved my hand towards it. Knowing if I touched it just once, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from stroking it to climax, and I didn't want to end up with a caning. I uttered a growling shout of anger and slammed my hands back down on the bed and tried to concentrate on my empty stomach.

I sat up to look for the sausages and egg I'd thrown away in anger and saw the sausages on opposite sides of the cell, but the egg had splattered against the door. First of all, I picked the sausages up and hungrily chewed and swallowed them, then tried to work out how best to clean the egg remains. I knew Gabriela was off today, but if Izabela came in and saw the mess, I was sure to get a feel of her stinging strap.

I picked up as much of the egg as I could, and using some damp toilet paper tried to clean the marks on the door and floor. I put everything down the toilet and flushed it away. I filled the plastic cup with water and scattered it around where the worst of the mess had been. It looked to have cleared away all signs that anything had happened, as long as it dried before anyone came into the cell so it wouldn't attract attention. Of course, if Elena was the one to bring lunch, I could have explained it to her as I was sure she'd have understood. I got back onto my bed accepting I could do no more and lay back allowing my depression to once again take over.

Lunch didn't arrive that day and hunger became my companion. I was in no doubt my angry outburst had been witnessed on camera and I was being taught a lesson. I was finding it difficult to contain my frustration once again and began talking loudly at the camera telling the guards I needed something to eat. When I received the expected no response, my frustration turned to anger and I began yelling and screaming, demanding I be brought some food. I don't know for how long or how many times I repeated my demands, but eventually I had to stop as I was exhausted and I was almost losing my voice.

I curled up in a ball on the bed and fell asleep until loud banging on my cell door woke me up. My first thoughts were: that's not Elena! I jumped up, my stomach ached after having had only two sausages to eat all day, and I knelt on the floor, head bowed and hands behind my back. I could hear the padlocks being unlocked noisily and I waited with baited breath for the cell door to swing open. Boots marched in and I could tell it was Izabela.

"Stand up!" she ordered, fiercely. She came right up to me and I felt a sudden agonising smack on my buttocks delivered from her position standing at my side.