The Worst Day of My Life

I was woken up the same way I had been woken up for some time now: a guard slapped my face until I woke up, and I was forced to swallow his piss first thing in the morning. I wasn’t allowed to get any drops on the floor, or I would be punished. After he left, I usually took a piss myself. I was also forced to swallow my own piss, letting the stream go into a cup and swallowing it. I originally didn’t do that, as a form of protest, but as the guards pointed out the cameras to me as I was taken to my punishment, I knew that I was fucked.

I honestly don’t know how long I’ve been in here. There are no windows anywhere that I go. I know I’m underground, and I unfortunately know that I’m not the only one down here. As I’m taken to my punishments, I walk by a number of men locked into cages similar to mine. These men are all different colors, but we all have some things in common: a muscular build and an impressive cock size. Now, some are admittedly bigger than others, but nobody has a flaccid dick that doesn’t go past your balls.

I also don’t really know why I’m down here. My torture, outside of my punishments, is highly irregular. I might bounce from room to room during a day, doing perverted shit, or I could have about a week off before I’m dragged out of my cell and brought to those rooms. The weird thing is that nobody is there to watch us. I know that there’s probably cameras in the rooms, but I think that if these people went through all of the trouble to capture us, they’d want to see it in person, especially considering some of the stuff that we do.

Nobody has ever come looking for any of us down here. In my case, it makes sense. I work from home, and I’m separated from my wife. I have one adult son who doesn’t live at home. My captors probably did something to my account so that my buyers aren’t worried. I’m worried, because I don’t know when this sick and perverted shit will end. Yesterday, or at least I presume it was yesterday, I had to lick all ten toes of one of the guards. He hadn’t changed boots or socks in a few days, I presumed, and I gagged throughout the whole ordeal. And trust me, that was one of the more benign things they had us do, which is saying something!

As I paced around my cell, lost in my thoughts like usual, two guards came back and unlocked my cell.

“Out,” they grunted. I followed their orders as they led me down the hallways to the rooms where the torture and punishments took place. I don’t think I’ve mentioned it yet, but all of us were permanently naked. As I continued to walk, I noticed that we had passed all of the rooms we usually stopped in. I dared not say a word, and one of the guards unlocked the door. I was pushed inside by the other one. I stumbled and soon balanced myself. As I looked around the room, it was almost like the place in prison where you could see and talk to your loved ones. Neither my son nor my wife was on the other side of the glass. Instead, a fit man in a fitted suit smiled at me, creepily if I might add.

“Hello, Jerome. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doing to all of us here?”

“Well, if you must know, my name is Kennedy Bruckheimer. You probably don’t know me, but I made some very good investments in companies when they were just starting out. I cashed out those investments when they reached their peaks, and I wanted to entertain myself. However, watching comedies or reading non-fiction doesn’t please me. I have more refined tastes.”

“You call this more refined!?”

“Compared to a couple of my friends. Now, I have a proposition for you, Jerome. I think you’ll agree, because if you complete it satisfactorily, you will go free.”

“Anything! I’ll fucking do anything to get out of here!”

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