A Dream Holiday
My sun, sand and sex holiday with Bianca was off to a tremendous start. Since we arrived, we spent every day on the beach soaking up the sun in our almost non-existent Wicked Weasel bikinis, topless and sometimes bottomless too. Later on we'd go back to the hotel, lounge round the pool and spot the talent, then dinner and a change into our best outfits for a night of clubbing. The place was full of gorgeous hunks, and we didn't miss a chance to get fucked or to suck their big sexy cocks. Before dinner we'd have fun together, licking the cum out of each other and making sure our little clits got plenty of exercise - the fucking was fun but not very subtle. We even managed to find a few girls to have fun with, including one who we introduced to the pleasure of sex with another woman. Things were going very nicely.
It was on the third day that we walked a few hundred yards from the beach into the little town to get some lunch. We just went in our bikinis, plenty of other girls did the same although not many were as skimpily dressed, or I should say revealed, as we were. Mine was bright orange, just a thin cord except for a tiny triangle that just covered the top of my slit, and two more tiny triangles for my big tits to bounce around in. My nipple rings were clearly visible and my cunt rings peeped out the sides of the thong. If I bent over, my anus was clearly visible and the small ring in the flesh just in front of it was completely revealed. With that I was wearing the only shoes I'd taken with me, a pair of clear plastic tart shoes with a high platform and a wicked six-inch heel, held on by a couple of clear plastic straps. Every step made me feel sexy and wet. Bianca was dressed similarly, in a green micro-bikini though with slightly more reasonable shoes.
As we wandered around trying to decide where to get lunch, I saw a really sexy local lad wearing a tight, skimpy pair of shorts, his huge erection clearly visible. He caught my eye and made a tiny but unmissable gesture, towards an alleyway. Bianca understood straight away and waited for me while I followed him. As soon as were a bit out of sight, I bent down and took his big, hard cock into my mouth, sucking on him as if I hadn't had one for weeks (although actually it was about half an hour). I felt a pair of strong hands on my hips and another hard cock pushed straight into my anus, stretching me quite painfully despite all my training, and started thrusting. I was in heaven! The first guy came, filling my mouth with hot delicious cum, then I felt the second one thrust harder and spurt into me as well.
And that was when things got weird. I felt the guy behind me yanked out of me, my wrists were grabbed, and before I even knew what was happening I felt handcuffs. A hand grabbed my hair, short though it is, and twisted me around. I was facing two of the local policemen in their shabby uniforms. The two guys who'd been fucking me had already disappeared, the police making no effort to catch them. They bundled me out of the alley and straight into their smelly old car. I saw Bianca but when I started to call out to her, my mouth was quickly covered with a big garlic-smelling hand. She saw me and started to run over, but they slammed the doors of the car and sped off, siren blaring.
The police station was unbearably hot and stuffy, and smelled of sweat, cigar smoke and blocked drains. They took me straight into a small room at the back, with a small window high up in the wall. There was a small table and two chairs behind it, but they put me in the middle of the room, where I had to stand in my heels. They yelled at me in whatever ugly-sounding language they spoke. Since I didn't understand a word, they just shoved me around and slapped me. They made it very clear with gestures that I wasn't to sit down, just to stay where they'd put me. Then they left the room, slamming the heavy door behind them.
I stood there for what seemed like hours. I didn't have a watch, so I couldn't really know. My legs and feet were hurting, and I was thirsty and hungry. Eventually I heard footsteps and then the door opened. There was a fat, bald older man, smoking a cigar, and one of those who arrested me. The old man sat down heavily on one of the rickety chairs - I was surprised it didn't collapse. The younger one stood to one side of the desk. Then the old one started asking me questions, which of course I didn't understand. That started to make him angry, and he barked an order to the young one, who stepped towards me and slapped me hard on each cheek, nearly knocking me over. Then he popped my tits out of their minimal clothing, and started slapping them, really hard, making them bounce up and down. I managed not to cry, but I couldn't help squealing in pain as his hands whacked into my tender flesh, making both of them laugh cruelly. Then he stuck a finger into my cunt - my wet cunt, I'm ashamed to stay - sniffed it, and then put it into my mouth to lick clean. With my hands still cuffed behind me, there was nothing I could do to resist.
The old guy barked another order, pointing at his watch, and the young one left the room. The old one beckoned me over to the desk and behind it. He unzipped his flies, making it pretty obvious what I was expected to do. I knelt down, awkwardly in my heels and with my bound wrists, and took his soft little cock into my mouth. It tasted of stale piss and stale sweat and stale cunt. It took a while to get hard, and even then it was nothing much, but he bent me over the table and took me from behind, fucking me slowly until eventually his soft, small cock released a little dribble inside me. He'd just about finished and sat behind the table again when there was a knock on the door and the young guy came back in, clutching a bundle of papers. At a nod, he pushed me roughly over the table again and fucked me. This time it was nice and hard. He came quickly, then pushed me roughly back to my place, tweaking my nipple rings and making me cry out in pain again. While they fiddled with the papers, his cum started to dribble past my thong and down my thigh, leaving a sticky trail that itched like mad and took my mind off my stinging tits and my hurting legs and feet.
Finally they sorted out the papers and beckoned me over to the table. They had a flyblown sheet which said at the top "ARRESTATION OF FOREIGN CRIMINAL", then had spaces marked for things like name and address in half-a-dozen languages. They gave me a stub of heavily-chewed pencil, and I filled in what I could. When I came to the space marked "Nature of Crime", the young one pointed at a badly-typed list of translations, full of spelling mistakes, and pointed at a line which in English read "public morale outrag". I wrote it down, in capitals, copying both mistakes. Then I signed it, they folded it up, and frogmarched me out of the room and down some steps which were very awkward for me.
In the Cells
There were three or four cells arranged along a narrow corridor. Mine was at the far end. It was narrow and tiny, just about big enough to lay down on the packed earth floor and about four feet wide. Three of the walls were rough concrete and stone. The front of the cell was just a door made of iron bars. They shoved me in and shut the door. My arms were still bound behind me. The only things in the cell were a slop bucket, still with the previous occupant's stinking piss and shit in it, and a couple of filthy blankets that stunk of the same with an added nuance of old puke. A metal dog-bowl on the floor contained some water. I was the only person in all of the cells.
The time passed very slowly. I couldn't get comfortable. I was cold. The rough floor was damp. I couldn't really arrange the blankets around me, with my bound wrists. I was hungry too, since I hadn't had lunch. I needed to piss and shit. I drank the water from the bowl, then emptied myself into it and slurped up my piss and shit. It was disgusting and satisfying at the same time, and despite everything, my treacherous little clit got excited. That just made me frustrated, until I worked out how to rub myself against the hard iron bars. My clit ring dug into me, hurting and feeling good, and soon I managed to come, thinking of the guy's cock from my brief lunchtime encounter. Then I started to wonder what would happen to me. Surely as a foreigner I'd just get sent home? Surely Bianca would sort things out for me? A day or two of unpleasantness and I'd be on my way back to civilization. I was sure of it.
Eventually, after ages, I heard steps. Another dog bowl was pushed under the bars. It was filled with a lukewarm watery stew. I was ravenous, and gulped it down. It was pretty disgusting but then no worse that some of the slops that I choose to eat at home. The guard - just another young cop - motioned me to push the drinking bowl up by the bars, and filled it from a bucket with dirty-looking water.
Not long after, he came back and opened the door. You can guess what happened - he pushed me up against the wall, unzipped his trousers, and fucked me. When he'd come he started groping my tits, playing with my nipple rings, twisting and tugging them so I cried in pain. Then he pushed me down on my knees and pissed in my face, calling out insults in his language, and slapping at my cheeks.
Later the cells started to fill up, mostly with drunks. There was a lot of shouting, in different languages but none in English. Another guard came by and fucked me, groping my tits which were still flopping around outside my minimal bikini top. Later still, the door opened again and another girl was shoved in. She was very drunk, barely conscious, mumbling in what sounded like German. She was wearing hot-pants which were soaked in her piss, and a tee-shirt which covered tits nearly as big as mine. The guard undid my cuffs, which was a great relief, but then he cuffed us together which wasn't so good. There was barely room in the narrow cell for both of us to lie down. Soon after she puked, and managed to do it over my belly, then she let out a long fart and filled her hot-pants with shit. Then she started swearing and kicking about, managing to kick over the slop bucket, and emptying its stinking contents over both of us. I was getting really pissed off with her, so I unzipped her pants and, ignoring her drunken protests, smeared her shit all over he belly and her big floppy tits. She started crying, really blubbering, so I wiped my hand over her tear-stained face, covering her in her own shit.
Eventually I managed to get to sleep, although I was woken up quite often by my drunken friend thrashing about. From the smell she must have pissed and shit herself some more during the night. I must admit I pissed myself too, there didn't seem much point in messing about trying to get to the bucket considering how much everything stank already. Another guard came by sometime in the night, I heard his key in the door and I've no doubt what he planned to do, but when he saw the state of my friend and smelled the cell, he swore a bit and went away again. So it hadn't been such a bad idea after all!
We knew it was morning when a guard came down and banged on the bars. He pushed another bowl of slops underneath. My friend woke up, a bit sober by now, clutching her head. When she saw the state she was in she started sobbing. I kissed her, licking some of the dried shit away from her mouth. She didn't seem to know what to make of that. I led her hand down to my clit and started rubbing, and she did understand that. I put my free hand on hers, rubbing her through the mess of dried piss and shit, and soon we both came. I turned and kissed her, licking the dried shit from her face.
They let us clean ourselves up under a cold shower at the back of the police station. After the cold, damp cells, it felt deliciously warm outside even in the early morning, and the cold shower didn't seem too bad. I helped my friend rub the dried shit off her belly, and removed as much as I could of her dried puke. At least I didn't have to worry about getting it out of my clothes - her hot-pants would never be the same again.
Back inside, I had a nasty shock. They showed me a scrap of paper - they wouldn't let me hold it. It said "I'm sorry Pauline, they made me leave the country, I've taken your things. I'll do everything I can for you when I get to England. Love and all the best, Bianca." So my one link with hope had been taken away. As I found out later, she'd found someone at the hotel who could translate and - in exchange for a blow-job - got him to go to the police station with her. But not only would they not let her see me, they threatened to arrest her as well unless she promised to leave the country straight away. She asked to leave some clothes and stuff for me, but they told her it was strictly forbidden. So that was that. She was lucky even to be able to leave a note for me. And her translator raped her on the way back to the hotel. Not that she'd have minded.
An hour later we were in the courtroom, a rather scruffy place with some old chairs and benches. There were half a dozen of us, two girls and four guys, lined up on a bench. Two local guys went first, and I didn't understand a single word of what happened to them. Then my new friend went up. They had a translator for her German, and with distant memories of my school German I just about understood. They charged her with being drunk, fined her about twenty pounds, and told her to go. That seemed pretty lenient, and I was optimistic for myself as well. The cases all went very quickly, the police spoke, the defendent got a chance to speak but never said anything, and it was over.
I went next. I also had a translator, an oldish guy in a very formal suit and tie who spoke surprisingly good English. He stood next to me and whispered explanations to me. I was charged with "public moral outrage", and he explained that this was something that was taken very seriously. I'd be lucky to get away with a short jail sentence - the maximum penalty was two years of hard labour! That really frightened me. I mean, a bit of an adventure and a night in the cells is one thing, but two years! Just like the others, the police told the story of how they'd found me engaged in indecent behaviour, I said nothing and on the advice of my translator pleaded guilty. Then things got really bad. The magistrate delivered a long lecture about how the country's culture of honour and decency had to be protected from vulgar and savage foreigners like me, and how I had to be taught a lesson not just for myself but for all the dirty whores from abroad. (That was how the translator put it, and he didn't even seem embarrassed). I was convicted under the special category of "moral criminal". He explained what that meant: I'd have to wear the same clothes I was arrested in for the whole of my sentence, which meant just my almost non-existent bikini and even my hopelessly impractical high heels. I'd be marked so everyone would know - although it would be pretty obvious in my case anyway. They took me into a small room where a guard wrote something on my belly, my back, my bottom and even my forehead. My translator helpfully explained that this was the word for "whore" or "shameless hussy", and that the marker was permanent but it would be written again when it started to fade. Then they left me alone with him. He opened his zip and put his shrivelled little cock into my mouth. I did my best and eventually got him to come, although I was hardly in the mood.
Then it was time for my sentence. I waited with bated breath... two months... and thirty lashes! I had no idea this was such a barbaric country! Two months in this awful country where I didn't understand a word of their ugly language, two months in an awful stinking prison wearing nothing but my little bikini. And the lashes... you all know how much of a pain slut I am, under the right conditions, but this was something very different and very frightening. Then I really did start to cry. The translator explained helpfully that I'd only got such a light sentence because I was a foreigner. Local girls who got caught would generally get twelve months and quite possibly permanent mutilation. I was devastated. I asked if the British Embassy could help, but he just laughed. "No help for shameless hussy, go to jail, take your punishment, lucky to get off so light" was all he said.
As soon as the sentence was declared, two strong guards grabbed me and hauled me off into another room. All of the guards and police on duty seemed to be there, standing in a circle, and I was pushed into middle. They started jeering at me, then each of them in turn came up and spat in my face, grabbing my tits or my bottom. Then one of them had the bright idea of taking his baton and shoving it into me, and they took it in turns to fuck me with it. They weren't gentle, and it really hurt - I like a good deep fuck as much as any woman, but this was a lot harsher than that. And then another one had the idea of sticking a second baton into my anus. At least he had the decency to put some spit on it first. Soon it turned into a real gang bang, as they pushed their cocks into my mouth and then, inevitably, took the first baton out of me and started fucking me.
Once the court session had finished and they had really and truly finished with me, they pushed me into the back of a van and cuffed me to the side of it, to take me off to serve me sentence. Even then they hadn't finished with me though - there were two male prisoners as well, and they made me suck both of them. I was happy to do that, it would be a long time before they'd get another chance. But my poor insides were terribly bruised and there was a dribble of bloody cum running down both my thighs. As the van bumped along their primitive roads, I really started sobbing at the the idea of spending two months in this awful place. I wondered if I'd even get out alive.
My cell was meant to hold four prisoners, on two hard wooden bunks either side. But the prison was overcrowded, and I was the fifth. So as the newcomer I got to sleep on the hard concrete floor, with only an ancient, stinking mattress, an inch or so thick, to soften it. As I later learned, as a foreigner and a "moral criminal", I would always be the lowest, no matter how long I might stay.
The women's prison was just a small wing of a bigger men's prison. There aren't many women prisoners because in the country's culture (using the term loosely) women aren't really considered to be grown-ups and thus capable of crime. Most normal "woman" crime (petty theft, domestic stuff and so on) is dealt with by a reprimand or a modest fine. I knew none of this when I entered prison - some I found out while I was there, and other things only when I finally made it back to England. In theory, there was complete separation between the men's and women's prisons. The only thing they shared was the kitchen, which was in the men's prison. Even the work parties were kept separate. But that's the theory, as you'll see later. All the prison staff, for men and women, are men - which is part of the country's culture, that women can't be trusted to do important jobs.
The top dog in the cell was a very fat woman, about 40, called Shika. She'd murdered a man who had tried to kidnap her husband. She was a complete bitch who tried to make my time there as miserable as she possibly could. There were two other women, who did and said as little as they could, whose crimes I was never quite sure of. The fourth woman, Deila, became my friend. She was another "moral criminal", who'd been arrested for working the streets in one of the tourist towns. Her "crime" was less serious than mine, but still she was inside for six months and had received thirty lashes. Luckily for me, she spoke a bit of English, not much but enough. She was a complete lifesaver for me, I can't even begin to imagine what would have happened to me if she hadn't been there. Like me, she was wearing the clothes she'd been arrested in - a short denim skirt, stockings and suspenders, a short tee-shirt, and white high-heels. She'd already been inside for two months. All her clothes had turned a muddy grey and were starting to fall apart. Her stockings had almost disappeared but still she wasn't allowed to take what was left off them off. The other women wore completely shapeless robes made of heavy, rough grey material, which covered them from neck to ankle, with nothing underneath.
On my first morning we were all woken up at daybreak, around six. Everyone took it in turn to use the slop bucket in the corner, so it really stank. Then we filed down to breakfast, a bowl of sloppy gruel. I just slipped in with the others and tried to copy everything they did. After that it was off to work. The main work for the women was a big laundry which washed sheets and so on for the tourist hotels nearby. Despite being practically naked, and awkward in my heels, I managed to survive that day without attracting too much attention from the guards or the other women. Lunch was stale, dry bread and water, served while we worked. About twelve back-breaking hours later, soaked in sweat from the heat of the laundry and the hot weather, we were led back to the dinner hall. Dinner was a sloppy, greasy vegetable stew, with the odd lump of gristle and fat, and some more stale bread. Compared to what I normally eat at home it was quite tasty, though I was still very hungry afterwards.
Once dinner was finished, we had an hour or so of "relaxation". There was absolutely nothing to do, no television or anything to read or cards or anything. Deila started trying to talk to me, explaining some of the rules and basics of the place. I quickly understood that us "moral criminals" were sexual playthings for the guards, and could be expected to be raped and groped constantly, as well as mistreated in other ways. Out of the fifty or so women prisoners, there were about a dozen of us. We were fallen women, and we deserved no respect. As a foreigner, I'd be even lower, since all foreign women were considered sluts anyway - although they were a bit worried about their image abroad, because of the money they made from tourism, so I'd be spared some things like permanent mutilation.
While I was talking to Deila, the fat woman (at that time I still didn't know her name) came over, yanked me up from where I was sitting on the floor, and spat in my face. Twice. Then she slapped me, hard, on each cheek, while screaming insults at me - I didn't understand a word but for sure they were insults. Then other women came over and started to do the same. I put up with it for the first few, trying to avoid a fight, but then I couldn't stop myself. I lashed out and hit one of them in the face, making her nose bleed, and caught the next one in the mouth too. Deila screamed at me to stop. But it was too late. Strong hands grasped my wrists behind my back, while fists flailed into me, into my belly, my kidneys, my poor tits. People spat on my face and my tits until I was covered in slimy mucus, and slapped at my cheeks. A couple of guards sauntered up and watched, but made no real attempt to stop them for a while. Eventually they spoke, and the women backed away. By then my whole body hurt. I was livid with anger and humiliation, but I realised that there was nothing I could do without making things a lot worse. The guards led the women back to the cells. Then they returned to me, and started screaming at me. They all carried something like a small riding crop, as well as batons, handcuffs and guns. One cuffed my hands behind me, then they both took their crops and started to beat me, my bottom, my belly, my thighs, my tits, anywhere they could reach. I'd already felt the crop a couple of times during the day - they had quickly given up trying to use words to tell me what to do - and I knew it hurt. Soon I was sobbing in pain under the relentless lashes. Finally they stopped, but before I could relax they bent me over a table and one of them started fucking me hard with his baton. I was still badly bruised from the same thing the day before, and I cried out in pain. Eventually he removed it and made me suck off the blood and juices, while his partner fucked me with his cock. By then the other guards on duty had gathered around too, and before long all of their cocks had been in my cunt or my mouth or both. Then they roughly dragged me back to the cell, as I stumbled and tottered in my high heels.
When I got back, I had another treat. Someone (not hard to guess who) had emptied the slop bucket over my mattress, covering it in a filthy stinking mess of shit and piss. It made the cell stink but nobody seemed to care, it smelled so bad anyway. The others were all pretending to be asleep, or maybe they really were, the work in the laundry was exhausting slave labour. I fell onto my filthy mattress, my whole body hurting, my wrists still cuffed behind me, and tried to sleep, slithering around in the stinking mess. Cum was dribbling down my thighs, mixed with blood, my mouth was full of cum, and my face and upper body were covered in slimy spit. Despite all that, I was so tired that I slept, fitfully, for most of the night. When I needed to use the toilet, there didn't seem much point in struggling to use the bucket, I just went where I was, luxuriating in the smelly warmth of shit oozing around my bottom.
In the morning everyone behaved as if nothing had happened, ignoring the stink and me on the floor too as they relieved themselves in the bucket. When the guard came to let us out for breakfast, he wrinkled his noise and said something - "What a stink!" I expect - in their language. The cuffs were left on me, so I had to slurp my gruel with just my lips and mouth, while Shika taunted me, and once pushed my face down into it. Afterwards, while the others went off to the laundry, I was released and made to carry my mattress out of the cell, to a shower where both it and myself were washed down with freezing cold water. I wasn't allowed to take the mattress back, though, and as a punishment I had to sleep for a few nights just on the hard, cold concrete floor. In truth, I was so exhausted and miserable that I hardly noticed.
The next few days went the same way as the first. Up at dawn, a long day of backbreaking slave labour in the laundry, staggering around in my heels as I carried huge bundles of wet sheets - the others just had cheap plastic sandals, not luxurious but a lot more comfortable. Then an hour of misery at dinner. I took all the blame for the fight on the first night, even though I was the victim, and so I was handcuffed every night, and sometimes overnight as well depending on the whims of the guards. I had to slurp my greasy swill with my head down in the bowl, while everyone jeered and laughed at me under Shika's leadership. Deila would talk to me, as much as Shika allowed, with her limited English, and sometimes one or two of the other "moral criminals" would join us, Deila translating their stories. They were all raped and groped constantly, and occasionally taken over to the men's jail where they would be thoroughly abused by the guards and by the more privileged inmates. That really made me tingle, I was sure it was awful but my treacherous little clit couldn't help getting excited at the idea. The other girls though were often in tears as they told their stories.
One of them showed me what they meant by "mutilation". Where I had my crime written on me belly in marker pen, on her they had burned it in with a soldering iron. For the rest of her life she would carry the words "shameless whore" on her belly. They'd also burned part of her scalp, near the front, with a strong chemical, leaving her with a permanent, irregular bald patch, so everyone would know what she had done. Another girl had her nostrils slit part-way up each side. None of these girls could ever lead a normal life again, or get married. Ironically, the only way they could make a decent living would be through sex, the exact opposite of course of what the punishment and laws were supposed to be doing. This kind of permanent mutilation was reserved for repeat offenders, but after a third or fourth offence things got really unpleasant.
After a few days my stomach was being gnawed by hunger. I was already losing weight. The food provided by the prison was really starvation rations. For the other prisoners it didn't matter. They were local women whose families lived nearby and brought them frequent packages of food and other necessities, like toilet paper. The prison worked that way and really had no plan for dealing with people like me who had no family. Each of the woman had a plastic box under the lower bunks, locked with a padlock whose key they all kept round their necks. Even looking at another woman's box while it was open could start an argument or a fight. There was no question of anyone giving me any of their precious food supplies.
I was awake at night, tormented by hunger and wondering how long I could even survive on what I was getting to eat. I had my mattress back, relatively clean but still stinking. My body didn't hurt as much although I still had plenty of fresh marks from the guards' crops and my cunt was very sore from the constant rape and abuse. But the worst thing was the hunger. Then one of the women woke up, stirred, and decided to use the bucket. Since I was on the floor, she had to step across me to get to the corner where it sat. I listened to the piss squirting out of her, then a couple of long farts, then with a satisfied grunt she squeezed a couple of turds into the stinking mixture. Without even wiping herself she climbed back into bed and was soon snoring. I had an idea - and I'm sure you can guess what it was.
Once I was sure all the others were asleep, I crawled quietly over to the bucket, put my hand in and groped around in the foul mixture until I found her two fresh turds. I shoved them greedily into my mouth and swallowed them as quickly as I could. They had the usual bitter taste, with a bit of spiciness from some of her own food - I supposed anyway, since it wasn't from the prison swill. There were a few undigested crunchy bits which I relished. It felt soooo good. Shit is mostly dead bacteria anyway, as I'm sure you know, and just as nutritious as normal food. I couldn't resist. I groped around and picked out more, partly decomposed this time and making a disgusting squishy mess, and wolfed that down too. I only stopped when there was nothing left that I could get my hands around, and even then I managed to scoop up some of the filthy shit-and-piss mixture that was left.
I felt sick and disgusted, but at least I wasn't hungry. I was completely turned on by the whole disgusting idea. I rubbed myself very quietly off to sleep again. The truth is, if I hadn't survived by eating the other women's shit, I would literally have starved to death in that prison. Maybe that's what they expect foreign criminals to do, I don't know.
To be continued.