The Inspector of Prisons

Chapter 12 - Jungle Captives

When I got home there was a coded message from the General on my private email. Coded messages for someone in my position were rare, but after all, my work for the General was not my usual job. In fact I was not quite sure what I was doing for him other than running all over the place looking for who knows what. But yesterday the picture seemed to clear up a bit; maybe it would get even better tomorrow. The message from the General was short, it read: TOMORROW 10 AM MY PLACE, JUNGLE TRIP, ARMED.

It has been quite a while since I did a real jungle trip, but orders were orders so I went down to the basement, unlocked the wine cellar and pushed a button hidden behind a case of Merlot. I pulled the wine rack open and unlocked the steel door hidden behind it. Switching on the light I went down a short flight of stairs unlocked another door and entered a small room with three doors. The one on the right had all the supplies I needed, jungle boots, hat, camouflage shirt and pants. I found the clothing but had to look for my special box. Finally, way in back I spotted it. I took out a sawed off  M79 grenade launcher and a bandolier of rounds. Putting this in a waterproof pack along with a small pistol I locked up. I was by no means some kind of jungle fighter, far from it. An old friend had made the launcher just for me after seeing how bad a shot I was with a rifle. After all, you could not see far in the dense jungle anyway. I loved the launcher and was actually quite good with it. Better a big bang than a small one!

Out in the entry I took a quick look at the other rooms. Both were prisoner cells, each with a small area beyond the entry door with shackles, whips, clamps, plugs and chains on the walls. At the back was another set of doors leading to the actual cells, an outer solid steel door and an inner one of bars. There was nothing in the cells, just a small light in the ceiling and rings embedded in the walls, ceiling and floors from which hung chains. The concrete door sloped to a drain in the back. I had never had occasion to use either of the cells. I wondered how my secretary Marsia would fair in one of my little cells. Perhaps I should find out. She was always joking about being my prisoner.

The next morning I was seated beside the General on his back veranda sipping an iced orange juice lased with vodka.  Ten feet out on the stone patio were two heavy metal posts, with a taught chain running between them. The chain was four or so feet above the ground. On her knees was a prisoner; her big new steel nipple rings were locked to the chain. The fresh two-inch nipple rings embedded deep behind each  stiff nipple still showed spots of blood. I am sure they were inserted with out anything given for pain.  It was the little rebel I had seen brought in on my last visit to the General. She still had on her jungle pants, mostly torn off below the knee, and split to the thigh on the left side. The pants rode so low on her hips that her pubes almost showed. She was nipple shackled to the chain at a height not allowing her to sit or stand. She struggled with a low squat, shifting from one leg to another. Her arms useless, cinched up behind her, elbows down, wrist up tight to a wide leather neck collar. A large rubber covered ring gag filled her mouth. Large drops of sweat covered her smooth brown skin. From the looks of her torso the little titted prisoner had been recently flogged. She keep looking over at us with desperation and fear in her eyes mixed with the humiliation that comes from a woman forced to show her breasts bare to strangers. I am sure she now longed for the easy life of a university student.

‘She is going to lead us to one of the rebels main camps.’ The General said pointing to her. ‘The little bitch is Mari Gomez the professor’s daughter. This camp is supposed to hold the provincial Governor’s wife and daughter the rebels kidnapped two months ago. Over twenty officials on the remote provinces have had wives and daughters abducted by the rebels. I am getting a lot of pressure to find them. Reports have it that they are taken to secret camps over the border and tortured in some hell prison with the goal of breaking them. We will go in part way by helicopter then use jungle trails for the rest. The camp is in a valley on this side of the boarder; once we take out any guards the rest should be easy. Even if we can’t recover any of the abducted women the capture of a rebel or two will help. Under interrogation they should be able to tell us the locations of other camps. We  take our little Mari rebel bitch, eight troopers and six prisoners to carry the gear.’  ‘Sounds good to me.’ I blurted out, feeling like an idiot, I hadn’t been on a mission in years. We continued to sip our drinks and make small talk as we watched Mari struggle in the hot sun. The black stone patio gave off waves of heat, bathing her in a furnace of hot humid air as she hopped from one leg to another, then stood up learning over, finally trying to sit, then doing it all over again in a vain effort to get some relief from the torment of her nipple rings. I could tell she was ashamed each time she tried to squat as the large rip in her pants revealed her bare pussy, the ultimate humiliation.

Twenty minutes later we were in the air flying over dense jungle. I hated flying and especially in helicopters. Apparently the General did too as he didn’t come with us, and I wasn’t going to tell him that there was plenty of room in these big military transports.  Actually both of them were pretty packed; the rear one had five prisoners, all shackled on their bellies, heads hooded. And full week of supplies. Brit from Solisa Prison was with them. At least I would not be carrying my own gear.

I was in the rear of the helicopter with five commandos. They were busy checking their gear and ignoring me, which was fine. As the token leader of this operation I really didn’t want to get into military matters with them.  At my feet, shackled in a tight hogtie, her head encased in a full canvas hood, still stripped to the waist was Mari Gomez. She had on her tattered jungle pants and heavy boots. Occasionally one of the soldiers looked at her, I didn’t discourage that, but for now her job was to lead us to the rebel training camp.

After almost an hour of flight time we landed in a clearing. The commandos gathered up their gear. Brit readied her prisoners to carry our loads with light metal shoulder stocks. These clamped around the neck with a two-foot section on either side. The prisoner’s wrists were shacked at each end so that she could grab the sidebars. A web bag of supplies hung from the end of each stock. Brit knew I was watching and started to explain her methods. ‘These light stock are padded on the shoulders so a bitch can go all day without her skin being rubbed raw. The grips at the end allow her to use her arms to support the load. All of these bitches are experienced at transport. Each is carrying one hundred pounds. I have them in jungle boots, but other wise they really don’t need any clothing. Clothing just gets hot and dirty, with them completely naked there is no place to hide anything even if they could use their hands. I make a point of it to never let their hands free, even at night. You would be surprised how it frustrates them at first but they soon get used to it. Those bitches,’ she said, ‘pointing three dark tanned prisoners in their mid thirties have been with me for almost ten years, all of it spent naked. They would not know what to do with clothing. And that one’, a large breasted slightly over weight bald female in her fifties with two large rings in her nipples, ‘I have worked for five years. The little bitch on the end is new. I am just trying her out. She was one of the university students caught up on the last sweep of rebels.

We moved out at a fast pace. The trail was relatively clear under the thick dark growth of huge mature trees. It didn’t take long for the prisoner’s bodies to become coated with sweat as they moved under their heavy loads. The only sound was an occasional crack of whip on a prisoner’s bare butt cheeks. After three hours we stopped for a short break. Each prisoner sucked eagerly from a canteen of water held by Brit, as they rested on their knees, still supporting their loads. Two more hours and we arrived at a wide ravine. Just as two of the soldiers started to scan the other side with their binoculars I hear a hissing buzz over head and some leaves falling. Someone across the ravine was shoot at us! Everyone dove to the ground as we returned fire. Without any thought I took out my M79 grenade launcher, popped in a shell and aimed it at a large bolder across ravine. To my surprise it arched up and landed right on top of the bolder. In with looked like slow motion a rebel fell out from either side of the rock landing hard, unmoving. The soldiers looked back at me, one saying, ‘Impressive’. A half hour later they returned with two female prisoners. One, tall thin athletic, look confused, her arms had been cuffed behind her at the wrist and elbows. She wore camouflaged pants and sleeveless shirt. The shirt was torn open revealing a well-toned torso and small hard tits. The other was younger, a university student I would guess, undergoing training with the rebels. She was also in camouflaged pants and jungle boots. With her pretty face and ample figure she did not look like my idea of a hardened rebel fighter. Her eyes moved quickly back and fourth in terror. As she was bare to the waist I assumed she was in training. The rebels, to break down any inhibitions and to develop authority over new recruits had them start their training totally naked, aside from boots. And they stayed that way for weeks, till each earned an article of clothing. All new recruits slept in small huts body against body eventually earning two person huts, during several summers of hard training.

After a quick meal I crawled into my tent. Under Brit’s command the prisoners had set up camp, ate, and were shackled out in the open to a chain running between two trees. As I fell sleep I could hear the sound of a whip and muffled yelps. The new captives were being interrogated.  This went on all night, mingled with moans from some of our prisoners being fucked by the soldiers. At dawn we broke camp and headed back to the helicopters. The tall rebel looked anguished, and ashamed at now being stripped naked, shackled in waist, neck, and wrist chains. Her lean body was covered with bloody whip welts. She had revealed the location of several rebel camps across the boarder. Her blond companion was equally naked but unmarked, seeming at ease in a schoolgirl like manner. I could tell she liked the gazes of the several soldiers as they admired her body.  Her  big firm pink nippled breasts moved with every step.

We landed at Solisa Prison to drop off the solders and prisoners. The tall rebel was also left there for more weeks of questioning in the underground cells. Mari Gomez, the young rebel and I flew on to the General’s compound. Upon landing the General complimented me on a successful quick mission. He ordered Mari sent to the isolations cells and the young rebel to his special interrogation unit. She was marched off with her chest high.