**WARNING**


May be NSFW !





This story is fact. It details my experiences about being raped, my sexual slavery and beatings. I wrote it with EXTREME honesty, meaning: it’s graphic. If you don’t wish to read something that’s very graphic, please move on. No hard feelings.

Hi PTO. This is Sam. Well, actually, Jason is typing this out for me, but it’s my story. I needed him to type this out, as he is much better at computers than I am. But rest assured, this is my story, and my experiences.

What I am about to tell you is extremely personal. It’s an experience that I wouldn’t want my worst enemy to go through, and it’s a story that I wish was fiction. Warning, at times, this story will be graphic.

This is EXTREMELY hard for me to talk about. Although I welcome ALL comments, both negative and positive, please keep in mind that this is very personal.

Jason had to practically BEG for me to talk about this with him and he had to do even more to convince me to post this. So why am I telling you all this? Because I want everyone to know the truth about what really goes on in prison. Hopefully, some of you can learn from my mistakes and experiences.

I am going to do this in parts, as it’s a VERY long story. In it, I will describe my feelings, the rapes, the beatings, the inmates, what I did to deserve it, what I DIDN’T do to deserve it, the COs , the Warden, the Sexual Slavery… all of it. Some of you may not want to read this, as parts of it will be extremely graphic. If you have young kids in the area of the computer, DO NOT READ THIS.

Although I strongly suggest educating the youth on issues like these so they can avoid prison; THIS STORY WAS NOT WRITTEN with a PG rating. See what I’m getting at? The content is WAY TOO strong for younger readers.

VERY FEW guys are willing to talk about this subject, let alone admit they were victims. This will be a rare insight for most of you, and this is my way of “giving thanks” for the life I have now. I hope some of you will have a better understanding of the “hidden, unspoken” lives most of the inmates in prison have to deal with everyday.

Okay, here we go.

PART ONE:

I was raped.

That’s all that kept racing through my mind. How did I get to this point? My God, I never thought I would ever end up in prison; I never thought my life would take this turn, never thought I would get raped, forced into a life (if you can call it that) of sexual slavery, physical abuse, drug use and ultimately triumphing, and coming around 180 degrees. This is my story.

By the time I turned 15, I had heard all the stories. I watched all the movies, heard all the tales from my father, and heard all the rumors from my friends… prison was hell. In the movies and in the news, I always heard about guys getting raped in the shower, guys getting “shanked” in the mess hall by some guy that looked at him the wrong way. I had heard rumors about prisoners being savagely beaten by guards; that the warden had a “special” room where he tortured inmates. I had heard stories about little boys (like 6 years old) being put in prison with adults, where they would get raped and be the “pleasure boy” for every single inmate in the prison.

“Just stories”. I said to myself. I knew all of them couldn’t be true. But at 15, I didn’t really know. What I did know, was that, if these stories WERE true, who cared? The prisoners in prison deserved it. They hurt people; murdered children, raped children, stole from old people, stole from companies, and started fires. All of society, and myself included, could care less if these “animals” (inmates) got raped or hurt in prison. They deserved it.

Little did I know that in 4 years, I would eat those words.

So, when the judge slammed down that gavel, and sentenced me to 8 years in prison, I cried. How could this be? Was my crime really that bad? I didn’t want to go to prison! Prison was for animals! I never, ever hurt anyone! I was young (19), I was thin, I had a medium build, but I was not strong, and worst of all…. I had never been in a fight in my life. There was no way I was going to be able to defend myself. I was doomed.

That night, I cried. I never cried so much in my life.

I will keep some of the details (such as location and names) vague, however, I was sent to a prison in New England. I was in the processing center for roughly 2 weeks.

I thought to myself, “This isn’t so bad”. Boy, was I wrong. You see, since I had never been in prison before, I thought THIS was it. Even though the COs explained to me that this was just the processing center where they evaluate the inmates, I was convinced that the rest of the prison was this way. The Center was clean, and believe it or not, the inmates AND the COs were sort of (sort of!) friendly. Everyone now says that the processing center is the WORST time because you could be a check forger (like me), and be sitting next to a murderer. However, where I was, it was very nice (well, as nice as a prison can be). After two weeks, I was move into the General Population. Oh My God. My hell starts here.

The first week, no one even spoke to me. During chow time, I could feel people staring at me, as if they were watching me, trying to figure me out. My celly was a quiet guy, but gave me the creeps. He also didn’t say anything to me the first few days. He could tell that I was scared out of my mind. I didn’t know anyone there… I was alone, I was frightened, and soon enough, I was property.

After my 4th day there, my celly, whom we’ll call ‘Tom”, spoke to me. He asked me how I was holding up. I told him that I was really nervous and scared. (You see? The first thing I ever say, and it was a mistake!). He nodded, and agreed that prison could be very scary. He, himself was scary. He was HUGE. He was white, and stood around 6’ 3” tall. He must have weighed around 250 lbs. Me? I was 5’ 4”, and I weighed about 130lbs. Tom had short dark hair, no facial hair, and looked like he was about 35, maybe 30. (I’m a bad judge of age).

That same day, he offered me some snacks that he horded. I gladly accepted his offer and quickly woofed down two small bags of Oreo cookies. The next day, he seemed much more friendlier. He asked me where I was from, all those kinds of questions. I was relived to find out that he was from the same area I was, and I was happy that I now had someone to talk to. We chatted away about girls, food, the crimes that we did, girls, food, which COs were good (and bad), girls, food, and girls. It seemed that Tom was in prison for vehicular manslaughter (which was a lie I found out much later), He enjoyed baseball, and he had a wife and one son. I told him the truth about me (mistake). I was single, I didn’t have any family to speak of, but I had some money left over from a relative’s death. I told him why I was in prison, and that I hoped to make parole when ever I came up for it. He offered me some more snacks, and some drinks, again, I gladly accepted. Prison food was horrible! At least these Oreo cookies didn’t have bugs in them!

That night, he asked me if anyone had bothered me yet. I told him no, not yet. I also said that “I don’t think anyone will, I just want to mind my own business and do my time as quickly as I can.” He said that there were a few guys that were looking at me, and he “sensed” (another lie, he actually knew for a fact) that they might start trouble with me.

I got scared.

END OF PART 1.

___________________

But the subsequent collision of fools...
Well versed in the subtle art of slavery.