Josh is Sold as a Slave in Prison

Josh had been fascinated by Russian culture since his early teens. Now with his degree under his belt, he was studying for a PhD on the early life of Fyodor Dostoevsky. To further his research, he had managed to get a visa in order to consult some of the Russian archives and was now hanging out in Moscow. It was a dream come true, walking in footsteps of Bulgakov and Mayakovsky. He was financing himself with bar work and saving money by staying in a slightly run down house, with a dozen other people. An outsider might have described them as students, but no one seemed to turn up to any lectures. He didn't know them well, but was happy to share a beer.

Life was great, or it was until 1.32am on Wednesday, 13th August.

They had been having a quiet drink, smoking a little dope and putting the world to rights when there was an almighty crash as the front door was forced off its hinges by a police battering ram. In a trice, dozens of nervous looking, armed policemen were all over the house. It happened so quickly, it seemed a mere second before Josh was handcuffed and on his way to a police station. They were all thrown in the 'cage' and it was only then that time began to slow down. What the fuck was happening? No police force sent a dozen armed cops to arrest a few students for smoking grass. He looked to Ruslan, the oldest of the residents and their unofficial leader. To his surprise, although normally laid-back, he now seemed very worried. He was gesticulating wildly as he discussed their plight with his brothers, Shamil and Hasan. Eventually Josh got his attention. Ruslan put his hand on his shoulder and tried to reassure him. He said the raid was probably a mistake, but the Russians were sensitive about the threat of Chechen 'terrorism', so they had probably got him and his brothers mixed up with other Chechens with similar names. He advised Josh to say nothing, as anything he said could be twisted by the 'fascist pigs'.

If this was a 'terrorist' bust, Josh knew was in the clear. So at the first opportunity he called over one of the policemen and explained he was English and asked to speak to the officer in charge.

Ten minutes later he was taken to an interview room. There he was seen by a stony faced policeman sitting at a desk.

"Name?"

"Josh Trubshaw. I am sure there has been a mistake, I am a British citizen and have only been in Russia for a few weeks. You can't honestly think I would be mixed up in a terrorist plot?"

"'We never make mistakes'. We found over ten kilograms of cocaine under the floorboards in the kitchen. Would you like to tell me, who supplied it and where you were going to sell it?"

"I know nothing about drugs at all. I am simply here to do some academic research."

"OK, I am too tired to argue. All I can say is if you don't cooperate things could get tough and I don't think you are made to do ten years in the camps. Think about it. The Inspector will interview you formally, but I would strongly advise you tell him everything you know."

Ten years! Josh's heart sank. For the first time since his arrest, he was truly frightened. He knew over 99% of all Russian criminal cases ended in conviction. So if the police decided he knew about the drugs he was in deep, deep trouble. He would be thirty by the time he was released. All his knew about 'the camps' was what he read of Solzhenitsyn and Baldaev. They would be better now, but still terrible. He was desperate, he pleaded, "You gave got be believe me, I know nothing about the drugs."

"Shut it."

"I am a British citizen. I demand to see my consul."

"As we believe the drugs were going to be used to finance terrorism, we can hold you for seven days in isolation. Now take you clothes off. We need them for forensics."

Josh was too shell-shocked to argue and slowly removed his clothing, until he was only wearing his boxers. But the policeman wasn't satisfied, "I said strip. Don't fucking play games with me."

Josh had his finger prints taken, then had the standard 'mug shots' and finally was photographed stark naked, back and front. The policeman put on some latex gloves and asked Josh to open his mouth, which he roughly examined. He then ordered him to spread his legs and examined his penis and finally got him to turn around and bend over. Josh knew what was coming but this knowledge did not save him from the pain or humiliation as the policemen forced his fingers into his anus.

"Kneel."

The policeman unzipped his trousers. "Give me a suck."

Josh was stunned. This couldn't be happening to him. He simply did not know what to do. He was almost thinking obeying, when he heard the door swing open.

"What the hell, are you doing Sergeant?"

"He offered, sir. He is like a bitch on heat."

"Get out."

Josh stayed on his knees, too surprised to do anything. The new policeman sat down and arranged some papers in front of him. After a few minutes he invited Josh to sit in other chair, "My name is Inspector Fomich. You, young man are in a lot of trouble. This is the largest haul of coke we have had in Moscow this year. You will all be going down, it just depends for how long. If you give me a full confession now, you might be out in five. If you are obstinate it will be ten or fifteen."

Josh was silent. He couldn't say anything, he didn't know anything.

"Come on Mr Trubshaw. They would sell you out in seconds. Who was the ringleader and how did they get the drugs to Moscow?"

"I don't know, sir. Honestly."

"Think it over, son. We'll do a formal interview tomorrow. Tell me what you know and I will do my best for you. Hold out and I will crucify you. I see the damage drugs do every day on the streets and I have utter contempt for those who cause this misery. So think carefully Mr Trubshaw, tomorrow's your last chance." With that he pressed a concealed button to summon his Sergeant.

Looking at the naked boy, Fomich seemed almost sincere when he said, "Sorry we have run out of uniforms. We'll get some sent over tomorrow."

The Sergeant man-handled Josh against the wall and handcuffed him, "The cage?"

"No, Petrovich, he would be raped if he went in there with tonight's scum. Put him in a holding cell."

"Why not let him find out what life in the camps will be like? He'll soon be back here on his knees, ready to tell you everything he knows."

"No, I don't want him touched." Turning to Josh he continued, "Son, I won't be able to protect you for ever. As an attractive foreigner, you will be gang raped as soon as you get to the camps. You know you will have to submit. My advice would be to choose your 'protector' very carefully and for God's sake make sure the gangs don't force you to become a camp whore. Your only chance of avoiding this is to make a full confession."

Josh gulped, a 'camp whore'? "But sir, I really did not know about the drugs."

But the Inspector wasn't listening. He merely dismissed him with a weary wave of his hand.

As Josh passed the cage, he was greeted with a shower of obscene comments. When he finally got to the cell, his relief was short-lived. The place was filthy. It was also freezing cold. He wrapped himself in a revolting blanket and sat on the bunk. He was in a lot of trouble and he knew it. Fomich wanted answers and he knew nothing. He thought of anything he could tell the policeman, but couldn't come up with even the smallest scrap of information. Josh even thought of fabricating something, but he knew it wouldn't work. He simply did not know how drugs dealers operated. He eventually dozed off, but his dreams seemed worse than being awake. He woke the next morning when the guard gave him the most disgusting 'food' he had ever seen. He was then left to his own thoughts. He listened and heard the shouts and screams from other parts of the police station. This was living hell.

Just after a revolting lunch, Sergeant Petrovich entered his room. Josh stood, blanket held tightly around his body and asked, "Sir, have the new uniforms arrived?"

"No, they should be here this evening. Now don't be difficult. Someone wants to see you." He firmly pulled the blanket from Josh's grasp, turned him around and handcuffed him.

Josh tried to resist as Petrovich pushed him towards the door. It had been bad enough walking naked through a deserted prison the previous night, but now it would be far worse as all the prisoners would be out of their cells. As he looked up, he saw dozens of prisoners chatting and playing cards. As one, they turned to gaze at the naked boy. Josh closed his eyes at his utter humiliation. He tried to appear confident, but couldn't. Petrovich led Josh along the corridor and up a couple of flights of stairs until he came to a cell, around which a gaggle of prisoners had congregated. Pushing his way through Petrovich knocked at the door, "Mr Safronov, it is Petrovich, sir." On being invited to enter, he forced Josh in front of him. Instead of the plain dirty cell he was expecting, he saw a large clean room, adorned with Persian carpets and tasteful watercolours. In the centre sat a huge deeply tattooed prisoner relaxing in an easy chair.

"Sir, I have a boy who is available should you wish to have him. He's new and has no protection."

Safronov looked up, seemingly unsurprised at a naked boy being brought to his cell, and replied, "If he has no protection, I can take him any time I choose."

"Yes sir, but I thought you offered a commission for first refusal."

"Don't worry, Petrovich. You'll be paid."

Safronov languidly rose to his feet, staring with ill-disguised desire at Josh. Up close the man was incredibly intimidating. Looking at Josh, he asked, "Do you normally walk into another person's room stark naked?"

"No, sir. Sorry, sir ..." Josh saw from the amused expression on Safronov's face that it had been a joke.

"How long have you been here?"

"I was arrested last night, sir."

"And you are being sold already. The joys of capitalism. Now, have you ever slept with a man?"

"No, sir."

"That's good. I like to train my boys from scratch." Safronov stroked Josh's cock and was pleased when it became erect. Josh flinched but Petrovich had a firm grip on his wrists. "It is dangerous in here. But you will be safe if you are my slave boy, my 'petuh'." Safronov clasped Josh by the shoulder and turned him around, pushing the small of his back he forced him to bend over. He then began to gently stroke his bottom. Josh did not dare resist, even when he felt Safronov's coarse hands ease his buttocks apart. Safronov was impressed by Josh's looks and the fact he seemed to submit so readily. He didn't want a glamourous queen, what he needed was a pretty, submissive slave boy who would do exactly what he was told in and out of bed. It was now time to find out how much this venal police officer wanted to organise his transfer.

Petrovich made Josh face the wall and spoke to Safronov in a low voice. Josh heard snippets and it began pretty evident that they were negotiating a price. He heard Petrovich saying he was 'young, clean and would be very willing'. It was as Fomich had said, he was going to have to submit. This was terrible, just terrible.

Josh was too frightened to move. He didn't know all the prison slang but was pretty sure 'petuh' or 'rooster' meant he was going to be forced to become a passive homosexual. The way Safronov fondled him, left no real room for doubt. He was huge and obviously a long term, charismatic inmate, one of the 'thieves in law'. More to the point he was evidently strong and powerful, and Josh guessed very cruel if he didn't get his own way. Safronov was not asking Josh for his consent, but simply negotiating a purchase with the guard in the same way as he might buy smuggled cigarettes or vodka. Josh wondered if it was his destiny to be bought and sold like this for the next ten years. But did he have any choice? He knew he desperately needed 'protection'. So should he accept his role and make the best of it? One 'master' must be a thousand times better than being a 'camp whore'. It would be awful to be forever looking over one's shoulder and being beaten up and raped in the shower. No, he wouldn't survive without a protector and he knew this would come at a price.

Eventually they came to an agreement and Petrovich pulled Josh by the handcuffs and forced him to his knees, "Would you like to sample him now, sir?"

"No Petrovich, I have an important meeting in a couple of minutes. But get him prepared. I'll want him for the weekend. Make sure he knows what will be required of him. But be warned I'll be very disappointed if he is not as willing as you say."

A happy Petrovich pushed Josh through the crowd outside Safronov's cell. As Josh walked along the corridor he wondered how much he had been sold for and what he would have to do for his 'master'. He couldn't believe that in this day and age someone could be sold like a slave. Now people knew he 'belonged' to Safronov they readily made way for him. When they got to the washroom, Petrovich unlocked Josh's handcuffs and told him to shower.

When he came out he was greeted by a small, slimy looking man with a cut-throat razor. Catamite he may be, but no bastard was going to cut him up. Josh was just about to hit out when Petrovich shouted, "Stop it, Trubshaw. The guy's only a barber. He's not going to hurt you." As Josh relaxed he added, "Now cool down. Put your hands on your head and spread your legs. Mr Safronov hates boys with body hair."

The barber then proceeded to smear shaving foam under his arms, on his chest and his pubic area. They soon had an audience. Josh stared at the ceiling, utterly humiliated. He shuddered at the thought of a man with a razor near his penis. The barber seemed to take inordinate pleasure in manipulating Josh's cock, but eventually he finished, without harming him. Finally, he made Josh lean over the basins and he shaved the area around his anus. Josh looked defiantly at the crowd, as if he was proud of his new status. But it was all front, if he had felt naked before, now it seemed a hundred times worse. As he walked back to his cell, he saw looks of curiosity and contempt on the faces of his fellow prisoners. The fact he was being marched around the prison stark naked would mean everyone would know about he had submitted. The 'boyfriends' or 'slaves' of powerful men occupied a very ambivalent place in prison society. Overtly despised but secretly feared.

When they got back to his cell, Petrovich explained, "You will be transferred to Mr Safronov's cell on Saturday." Seeing Josh's shock he said, "You really ought to thank me, Trubshaw. Someone like you needs protection. Being Mr Safronov's 'boy' will mean that no one will dare lay a finger on you. You will be completely safe, at least until he finds someone younger and prettier. Then, of course, you will be turned over to one of his lieutenants. One way or another you'll have a soft time. I will be back to inspect you before you go to Mr Safronov. But for God's sake prepare yourself and let him take you willingly. I don't want any violence. You'll soon learn Mr Safronov always gets what he wants." With this he left.

Josh sat down with his head in his hands. He now knew his fate and there was little he could do about it. He almost hoped that Inspector Fomich would summon him for an interview, at least it would distract him. But he reasoned that Fomich had probably taken a cut on his 'sale' so was probably not very interested any more.

As the evening wore on. Josh started to try to prepare himself mentally for his first night with Safronov. He knew he had to try to relax his anal muscles but wondered if he could really do this in the heat of the moment. Josh knew it was going to hurt the first few times, but it would be a lot less bad than being at the mercy of the gangs. Something he could expect if he didn't get Safronov's protection.

He just wished there was someone who could reassure him and give him some advice. When he had been taken upstairs, Josh had seen boys in tight little shorts instead of the regulation trousers. They must be in the same boat as he was in. Perhaps one of them could tell him how he should prepare himself and what he should do on his 'first night'.

One way or another, Josh was determined to keep his dignity and lie down on the bed and let Safronov fuck him. Take the pain and humiliation like a man, he certainly wasn't going to have Safronov's henchmen carry him kicking and screaming to his cell. Try as he might, he couldn't imagine getting on his knees and sucking another man's penis, but knew he would have to do it, not once but frequently.

Long term, he wondered if he would have to become Safronov's little 'pet' constantly at his beck and call or if he would simply be called in when his master required sexual services. Would Safronov make him dress like a 'tart' and force him to wear shorts like the boys he had seen? Serving one master would be bad, but he feared he would he be shared with his friends and lieutenants. He had heard the phrase 'to swap roosters' whereby 'slave boys' were traded, but did not know if the practice was widespread. Whatever his role, Josh recognised he had to try to satisfy the Safronov, and keep his position as his 'petuh' for as long as possible. It would be too frightening even to think about being known as a discarded catamite and therefore a 'downcast' without Safronov's protection.

Josh was roused from his dismal thoughts by a guard who delivered his supper. He was told that the prison uniform would not arrive until the next day. When Josh complained the guard said he could be kept naked if he was deemed an escape-risk, so he shouldn't 'make trouble'. Josh wondered who was organising this delay; Petrovich, Safronov or even Fomich? Was he being kept naked to attract another higher offer for his 'services'? Josh knew his destiny and was frightened. He had a thousand things to think about, each worse than the last, so took hours to get to sleep.

Josh had just managed to drop off when the cell door was thrown open. As he collected his wits, a female voice barked, "Prisoners must get to their feet when a police officer enters their cell."

Josh did so and saw a trim, severe looking policewoman staring at him.

"It seems there's talk of you becoming a 'serving boy' whilst we investigate your case. But you are lucky, I need a domestic as well. How would you like to serve in the ladies' wing instead?"

"I'd prefer that, ma'am."

She approached and started to play with his nipples, gently stroking then by turns squeezing them with all her might. She smiled as she saw Josh wince with pain, "What about serving a sadistic, middle-aged Starshina [Tr. Master Sergeant]?"

Josh knew he could not afford to offend the woman, so said, "It would be an honour, ma'am."

She moved from his nipples to his penis, stroking it then digging her long nails into his shaft, "The girls would demand total obedience."

"I would do anything they want, anything at all, ma'am."

She eased her truncheon between his legs and gradually raised it, smiling as she watched his pain, "As a criminal you would need to be punished."

"I understand, ma'am."

The Starshina liked his naive willingness. It was all down to what he would agree to, or what he could be coerced into agreeing to. She wanted a slave, a truly sexually submissive slave, not a mere domestic servant. She just loved the idea of dressing him in some skimpy uniform and getting him to serve her girls day in, day out. Cleaning the barracks, welcoming them home, giving massages when they were tired and most important providing sex on demand. She gazed at his naked body. He would be perfect.

As she stared, a charge of electricity ran through her pussy as she imagined evenings with Josh tied up and her, Lidiya and Klementina taking their time tormenting him. His buttocks looked as if they just needed a hard beating with a riding crop. She shivered with pleasure at the thought of having him over her knee and then slowly pulling down his knickers and giving him a good spanking. She was determined to get a slave and what's more for some reason this beautiful boy seemed willing. She was sure she could convince Fomich to hand him over. But first she needed to consult her girls. She stepped back and whipped out a phone and photographed him, then ordered him to turn around and did the same to his back. "I will circulate your photos and see what my officers think."