Hellsgate Prison


I have referred to some of these events in a previous tale but there is so much more to the Hellsgate Myth that I wanted to revisit it in greater detail.

The Hellsgate is a deep fantasy and, being a fantasy, it does not have to be rational or even consistent. Perhaps it is a cipher for that part of me which is normally kept down but whenever I am consumed by passions and lust; whenever my fingers dip deep within my moist, tight and fleshy depths and whenever my mind is knocked out by raging endorphins, then The Hellsgate rises up to claim me and I am imprisoned.

I imagine them coming for me in the most public and humiliating way possible in the college cafeteria. The room went silent and, looking towards the door, I saw the three black uniformed men moving swiftly towards me. I looked around in terror seeking a way out or at least someone to speak for me but no-one would meet my eyes. And then they were upon me dragging me from my seat. My arms were pinioned behind me and twisted painfully as I felt the cold manacles forced in place and fastened about my slender wrists. At the same time the man in front of me rammed a solid leather gag into my mouth.

With powerful hands almost closing off the circulation in my arms I was dragged towards the door. I could not help struggling but, of course, it was futile and it only increased the pain in my upper arms where I was being held. My mouth was held wide open by the huge gag and I knew I was dribbling copiously. They dragged me down the corridor and through the main entrance foyer in full view of everyone. People stopped and looked then thought better of it and pretended not to see but I heard the whispering.

“She was always a bit odd.”

“Surprised it hasn’t happened sooner.”

“Probably the best thing really.”

And, worst of all, I picked up the dreaded word “Hellsgate”. Every young woman had heard of the notorious Hellsgate which was a byword for unknown terrors. No-one really knew what went on behind those grim walls but imagination filled in all the lurid details. It had to be a mistake. They couldn’t be taking me there. I tried to wriggle out of their hands; I tried to kick with my feet and I shouted into my gag but all that came out was incoherent noises.

They dragged me down the front steps and threw me into the back of a van which had a metal grille behind the doors so I was caged behind bars and then the van door was slammed shut leaving me in a windowless metal box and sitting on a hard bench with a dim orange glow coming from the single bulb behind its hard, glass shield. It was a lonely, despairing journey which ended with the feeling of the van being backed up. When the doors, and then the cage, were opened I saw that we were backed up against another door and then I was again brutally grabbed and dragged forward.

The corridors smelt of disinfectant and we went through a metal grille into a long room outside a long, narrow cage containing two women. Still handcuffed and gagged I was made to stand still for a very thorough frisking. In theory I was being searched for knives but really it was an excuse for a prolonged grope. Male hands went up my short skirt and squeezed my softest, most sensitive, parts causing me to squirm and moan and then fingers pushed up inside my t shirt and dug into my neat little breasts. Nothing was said but the unspoken message was all too clear.

“We can do anything we like to you and you can do nothing whatever about it.”

When they had finished their lewd fun my gag was removed. It had become embedded in my flesh and it hurt as it came free. Then the cage was opened and I was pushed inside for the grille to be clanged shut behind me. One of the guards exchanged a chuckle with his colleague.

“Another one for The Hellsgate.”

My two companions were sitting on the cold concrete floor with their backs against the white tiled wall. Both were in their early twenties; one had tear steaks on her cheeks. They were both handcuffed and one of them did the introductions. I quietly gave my name but we really had nothing much to talk about. We sat miserably, mostly in silence, in our cage for a very long time and, one by one, others joined us until there were six of us. I remember Jenny who had a cut lip and dried blood over one eye and poor little Libby who was just eighteen but could have passed for much younger. Her blouse was torn revealing her virginal little white bra and her marble white flesh. I had a horrible premonition of the sort of fate which awaited all of us.

I don’t remember the name of the sixth girl to be thrown into the cage but I do know that the guards had a good laugh when they told us that we would not have much longer to wait. Actually it did seem to be a long wait before four of them came back to the cage and began taking us out one by one. Each girl was fitted with leg irons before being made to shuffle out of the room with her chains clanking like the Ghost of Christmas Past.

I was the fourth one out and I found myself being taken back the way I had come and up the folding steps alaçatı escort into the back of a van similar to the one in which I had arrived. In turn all of us went into the van and sat on the steel benches along each side before being locked in and driven off to meet our fate out of sight of the outside world.

We all sat silently contemplating our helplessness and the grim hopelessness of our situation but a quiver ran through us when the van stopped briefly then pulled away slowly and we heard the resounding bang as the oaken gates of The Hellsgate slammed shut behind us. The van parked in a small yard with grey walls rising high above us and we were made to hobble into the reception area under the eyes of black clad guards. This was a high arched hall with a bare stone floor and dark green tiles covering the walls. Like every room in Hellsgate the windows were very high up and throwing down narrow shafts of sunlight.

We six terrified women and girls were surrounded by black uniformed guards, all of them holding the standard issue long riding crops, and we were unchained. We were told that talking was forbidden, then came the barked order to strip. Most of the guards were male although there were a few hag-faced women. We just stood there in a bit of a daze each waiting for one of the others to go first. Young Libby had her arms pressed across her chest and she sank down in a defensive crouch on the floor shaking her head with her eyes wide. Instantly two male guards advanced upon her and Libby understood that she had no choice but to obey. She removed her arms from her breasts and I am sure she was about to undress herself but she had lost her chance and one guard dragged her upright while two others tore the clothes from her exposing her slim, unspoilt body to them all.

The command was repeated to the rest of us to undress and we began to obey. As I fumbled with the zip on my skirt and lowered it I was very conscious of all the male eyes watching my every move and I felt the chill air on my exposed skin. Of course I could not stop at my skirt and, in bitter humiliation, I pulled off my little panties. I don’t think any man can really appreciate how a woman feels at exposing her labia and her pubic hair. It is such an alien experience to everything which is in our makeup. Every mother teaches her daughter NEVER to expose her most secret parts and being forced to do so brings feelings of defeat and violation. The guards gave each of us a white canvas sack for us to put our clothes into then they watched as we stood naked and obeyed the command to remove watches and jewellery which also had to go into the sacks.

Libby was sniffing back the tears as she obeyed and then the guards sealed the sacks with green plastic ties each one stamped with a number. I found myself wondering when and if I would ever see my clothes again and also thinking about what microscopic life might have bred on my used knickers by the time that they were unsealed.

There was another barked order and we hurriedly shuffled into a line fearful of those crops. We all stood with one arm across our chests and the other hand trying to cover our pussy. Two guards moved along the row grabbing our right arm and fastening onto it a plastic bracelet which could not be removed. Each bracelet bore a number which would be our number for our time in The Hellsgate; mine was 757. I asked why my bracelet was red while all the others had white ones.

“You are special. You have been marked as Special Category because your College Tutor signed an order for you to be given especially harsh treatment. AND YOU DO NOT ASK QUESTIONS.”

He slapped my face so hard that I felt tears in my eyes.

“Now all of you MOVE. Sit on that bench.”

We sat down with our legs tight together causing raucous laughter and rude comments from the guards and two guards went behind us, one at either end. I found myself on one end and I felt my hair grabbed at the back. I instinctively tried to turn but my hair was pulled hard making me scream. Then the shearing began.

To our horror, great hanks of our hair began to fall to the floor and all we could do was to sit there shivering while the barbarous barbery went on. A woman’s hair is part of her identity and they were shaving our identity from us. Very soon we all had a short back and sides just like schoolboys.

They allowed us no time to deal with our new deprivation and we were harried to one side of the hall where stood a strange and ominous metal contraption. It was basically a tunnel of black metal about thirty feet long and just tall enough for a person to stand inside. Along the centre of the tunnel ran a bar rather like the safety rail one sometimes finds at bus stops but the rail was only about three feet high. We had to queue up one behind the other with the first girl just inside the tunnel standing with her feet either side of the low rail.

Controls were operated and, with a loud noise, stinging yellow powder began to be pumped under high pressure from small holes alaybey escort all around the tunnel and up from the central rail so it caught us between our legs. The queue of naked girls was forced into the tunnel so all we could do was to run along the tunnel with our heads down and eyes shut. We emerged at the other end coughing and bumping into each other due to having our eyes shut. This was our delousing and cleansing and the guards so enjoyed the spectacle that they forced us all to go through the experience all over again.

When we again stood choking and stained yellow they raised their sticks and bellowed at us to go into the tunnel yet again. There was no choice but obedience and this time different nozzles poured forth freezing cold water making us all shriek. The end result was a disorderly cluster of girls clinging to each other and shivering as the cold water dripped from our abused bodies.

There was no respite for us and, without even sight of a towel, we were made to line up at a wooden counter where a guard judged our size and issued us with our prison clothing. This consisted of a dark brown smock of some heavy, coarse material and, to our misery, a pair of old fashioned grey knickers. We expected a bra but none of us dared to say anything when it became obvious that girls in The Hellsgate did not wear such things. We moved along the counter and a second guard asked our shoe size before placing on the counter before us a pair of black, elastic sided gym pumps.

Still wet from the tunnel we put on our clothing and all experienced the same horror at the shortness of our smocks. Any reaching or bending would guarantee that our underwear was on show. Two of the girls had particularly large breasts and reference was made to “ferrets fighting in a sack.” I was glad of my small, firm boobs which virtually disappeared under the baggy, shapeless smock and spared me the “bouncing” of my fellow prisoners although I did now look completely flat chested which is humiliating for a grown woman.

Our induction was now complete with our individuality stripped away. We stood in our ill-fitting and ugly brown smocks which revealed far too much bare leg and none of us looked the same girls as we had been now that our hair had been shorn so brutally. The guards separated us and each of us was escorted to her cell.

This gave us our first view of the dark inner corridors of the Hellsgate. It was a grim place of cold, echoing corridors and metal grilles which had to be unlocked for us to pass through and then clanged shut behind us.

I was handcuffed to a large male guard who enjoyed groping my tiny breasts through the coarse smock as he led me along the dimly lit passageways. The walls were cream painted brick and the floor was stone flagged. I was never to become familiar with the layout of my prison because it was the creation of my own mind; it was the reflection of my own mind and the passages I walked were the passages of my mind. Every time my dark fantasies drew me back to The Hellsgate it was slightly different so I could never say how big it was or where all the doors we passed led.

We came to a low arched iron door and the cruel guard dragged me inside where he removed the manacle from my wrist and then left me, crashing the door shut on me.

My cell was an unlit six foot square with a slop bucket and a low, narrow wooden slat on which lay a thin, smelly mattress and a single blanket. The tiny translucent glass window was right up at the ceiling and the only other light came from the dim orange bulb in the corridor as it glimmered through the barred one foot square window in the black metal door.

And so I began to learn the soul crushing regime of the Hellsgate. Most of the guards were men but the female guards were even crueller than the men. Any guard could impose a punishment at any time. This may involve a lashing with the crop or a more sustained and inventive ordeal.

Meals were taken in silence sitting on benches at the long tables in the refectory unless a girl was “In Solitary” which meant that she was in her cell for twenty four hours per day and she would be served a bowl of “Hellsgate Stew” in her cell. This consisted of nameless lumps of meat or vegetables floating in gravy. Sometimes a girl would be kept “In Restraint” which would mean she would be chained for long periods in a variety of positions. The most common position would involve having a heavy iron collar locked around her neck with chains running down to connect to her ankle shackles and her handcuffs which would be in front of her so that the victim was in a sitting position with her knees bent under her chin.

Mostly the day was split between work and interrogation. Work could be in the kitchen or laundry, scrubbing the prison in a small gang supervised by a group of guards or labouring in the “Iron Room” which was another huge hall. Work in the iron room meant scrubbing scrap iron with wire brushes so that all the rust came off to reveal shining metal. This was heavy, dirty work as aliağa escort the pieces of iron had to be moved around in order to be scrubbed and we became coated in rust particles.

Girls in interrogation would be naked and either chained to a chair or suspended from the ceiling with perhaps three guards working at a time. The teams of interrogators rotated so that they were always fresh and a girl could be worked upon for up to thirty hours at a stretch. They barked questions at us about our sexual history and our most intimate fantasies as well as about every tiny detail of our lives from birth to admission into Hellsgate.

After a long session with the interrogators a girl would be dragged back to her cell with her nose and mouth bleeding, her body marked and bruised and feeling as if her brains were oozing out of her ears.

All the guards used us sexually as a matter of routine and if you saw someone being dragged off to be brutalised and violated you were just grateful that it wasn’t your turn. A favourite punishment was to force a girl to go naked for a day or a week so that her bare feet were freezing on the stone floor and she felt the lustful eyes of the guards wherever she went. Any guard, on a whim, could order a girl to stand with hands on head so that he could tweak her nipples and push his fingers into her pussy. This could happen to any inmate but the naked girls always came in for more attention. Of course the continuous soundtrack of the place was jingling keys, slamming doors, barked orders and screams of pain.

My first full day inside The Hellsgate began as every day began with the jangling of the 5am bell. The corridors filled with the noise of shouting and with the shrieks of the inmates as they were lashed with crops for moving too slowly. A guard unlocked my cell and ordered me out into the corridor where I joined the hurrying line of imprisoned women making for the courtyard. Perhaps it was the main court in the middle of the prison or perhaps the jail was built in squares and each square had its own central yard, who could ever know?

I was in a square space with grey stone walls reaching far above me and showing a square of sky. All the walls were lined with rows of barred windows and we were made to line up in ranks in the freezing cold dawn.

To my surprise I saw all the inmates around me stripping off their clothing, even their shoes, and making a small heap in front of them. I knew that I had to follow suit as guards in warm coats walked up and down the lines. Very soon we were all completely naked and shivering under the hard eyes of the female guard who stood in front of us. I was to discover that morning PT was performed naked in the open air even when there was snow underfoot.

Commands were barked out to make us stand to attention and then to perform bends, jumps and stretching exercises. Then we had to lie on our backs on the ice cold stone and, with our elbows braced on the ground and our hands supporting our backs we had to bicycle our legs in the air clearly displaying our puffy, pubic lips between our buttocks.

Every order had to be obeyed at the double and the guards walking along the rows were quick to lash anyone whom they thought was too slow. Of course there did not really have to be a reason for the lash; it was often applied on a sadistic whim.

My red bracelet marking me down for special cruelty was about to show its power as an order came from the front for 757 to be taken to the steps. A wardress grabbed me and pulled me to the steps in front of one of the doors back into the main building and she pushed me down onto my belly in front of the steps. As I lay there, terrified to move apart from shivering and panting, the parade was called to attention and then dismissed in ranks.

Every single woman walked over me planting her foot on my back or my buttocks. The wardress stood by to ensure that no-one stepped over me without her foot pressing me down against the stone. When the yard was empty apart from myself and three guards I was ordered to my knees and made to crawl to the centre of the yard where stood Cruella, the senior wardress. She shouted at me that Ray Doyle, my college tutor, had asked that I receive maximum abuse and she was going to make sure that his wishes were carried out to the full.

Cruella ordered me to get my head up her skirt and pull her panties down with my teeth. The other two were behind me with their crops raised and I hurried to obey the demeaning order. When I had dragged her underwear down the command came from above for me to tongue her pussy. My head was in a sort of dark, loathsome tent formed by her skirt and her crotch tasted salty which matched the salt tears beginning to run down my cheeks.

All the while she was yelling at me to tell me how useless and worthless I was and I could hear the laughs and jibes of her two companions. I felt her hands pressing the back of my head forcing my face forward against her body so that I was suffocated by her soft flesh. She did this again and again holding me in place so that my lungs screamed for air but found none. Each time I was sure that she would asphyxiate me and then she removed her hands so that I could pull my head back and gulp in a lungful of air before being, once again, pressed to her body with the pain in my knees against the hard stone constantly becoming worse.

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