THE ARKANSAS PROGRAMME - Part 1



By Pete Brown

Read all of Pete's Stories on
groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories





BEFORE





We weren't getting along too well, we both knew that.  But when
I came home from the site unexpectedly early one day and found
her in bed with my best buddy, I completely lost it.  Working on
the construction site had packed my 6'2" body with hard muscles
- the kind you only get from real work, not the big puffed-up
sort from the gym - and I smashed my fists repeatedly into both
of them.  And when my buddy tried to defend them both and
managed to get off the bed, I knocked his naked body to the
floor and smashed my work boots into his ribs over and over
again.  



Then  I tore open my shorts, pushed my screaming wife back onto
the bed, and thrust into her hard, over and over. I heard myself
screaming "one last time, bitch!."



When I had finished - and it only took about three thrusts, I
was so charged up - I turned around and when my cock had
subsided pissed over the groaning body of the guy who had been
my best buddy.  There was nothing else to do, so I slammed out,
went to the local bar, and started to get more drunk than I had
ever done before.



The troopers found me there, and I was by this time in no state
to put up any fight.  They bundled me into the patrol car, and
the next thing I remember was waking up with the world's worst
hangover, on the floor of the police cell.



They bought me breakfast, which I couldn't eat, and about an
hour later the desk sergeant came in and told me I would be
tried later that day and asked me who my lawyer was.  I told him
I didn't have one, and so he arranged for me to see a
court-appointed one.



The lawyer was about my age - 26 - and sat opposite me looking
rather distastefully at me.  I still had on the T-shirt I had
gone home in from the site, the shorts (stained with my cum and
blood from my mate), and my work boots.  By now of course I had
a heavy five o'clock shadow as the last time I had shaved was
the previous morning, and I stank of stale alcohol.



We introduced ourselves, and after listening to my story he said
"Well, Steve, you've got a real problem.  Although some people
would think your buddy provoked you, he is very seriously
injured and the prosecution will argue that this was a
disproportionate response.  And since your wife screamed at you
to stop, fucking her is statutory rape even though you are
married."



I asked him what we could do, and his answer was very little. 
The State had decided to go for "quick justice", as it had been
decided that hanging around for weeks waiting for a trial did
nothing for anybody - the accused was kept in jail
unnecessarily, and costs mounted.  In an open and shut case like
mine, the Courts now simply heard as much testimony as they
needed from witnesses - and in my case they had my wife, and a
videotape from my ex-buddy from the hospital.  



They dispensed with all the doctors' evidence, character
witnesses, etc., even though in my case they would have been
hard to find anyway - although I had been a star student in High
School, on the wrestling, track and football teams, and straight
"A"s in class, I had gone wrong after first meeting my wife. 
Against the advice of my parents I refused to go to college, and
went straight to work so that I could have enough money to marry
her immediately away.  Of course the only jobs that I could get
without qualifications meant that I had to use my body rather
than my brain, and I had ended up doing the really hard manual
work on construction sites - the sort that the machines can't do
because the access is too small, or the work is too dangerous,
or whatever.  I didn't really mind as I could use my body to its
full, and I gloried in feeling my muscles straining to do the
best job they could.  And when I went home a night, I had no
worries - I just slumped down with a few beers, went out
occasionally to shoot pool with my buddies, and had great sex.



But all that changed after a couple of years when our first
daughter was born.  My wife turned into a nagging shrew, and
went off sex completely.  She wouldn't even jerk me off or give
me a blow job - something she had always been willing to do
since our first date.  I got really pissed off and frustrated,
and one night in the bar I punched out one of my buddies when he
made some innocent remark about our relationship.  I got off
with a fine that time, but of course I now had a criminal record
for violence.



I forced myself onto my wife every month or so when I got
absolutely pissed off with jerking myself off.  And as luck
would have it, we soon had another child - my son - on the way. 
With four of us to support on a labourer's wages, there was no
money for whores and for the last 18 months the only sex I had
had was my own hand.  My wife used to turn over in disgust as I
climbed into bed and started to beat myself off - she made no
attempt to understand the frustration I felt at being trapped on
a dead-end job with no prospects.



I knew that things could only get worse.  As I got older, my
body would ultimately give in and I would no longer be able to
earn the highest rates per hour because of my strength.  I would
sink down the ladder, doing more and more menial work.  And
there was no prospect of a reconciliation between us - she
wanted a house full of fancy things, and a new car, and
vacations to Florida, and all the other things I could never
afford to give her.



My best buddy from High School had remained friends and we
usually went out for a few beers every week or so, and he was
doing well.  After College he had joined a big IT company and
was now earning a high salary.  He had moved into a flash new
condo in the best part of town, and came over to see us in his
new BMW.  I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised my wife
found him attractive - he had everything she wanted: money!. 



"So", said the lawyer, "You won't be able to bring character
witnesses.  You have a criminal record already for violence,
your best friend will probably never fully recover from the
beating you gave him, and there's a statutory rape charge
against you.  If I were you, I would just plead guilty and ask
the Court to be lenient considering you have been betrayed
somewhat by your wife - although, of course, she had every right
to sleep with whom she pleases.  If you do that, you will
probably get off with 15 years, which means you could be out in
10 years with remission.  There will still be time to re-start
your life at 36."



I protested, and said I wouldn't do that as it meant I would not
see my kids growing up.



"You won't do that anyway.", he said.  "Immediately after the
trial your wife will file for divorce.  With your record of
violence, the courts will give her custody of the children, and
she can easily ask for all contact between you and them to be
severed as she fears your violent nature.  We know that's
rubbish, but the Court will look at the record and see you have
beaten up two men - one very seriously - and have been convicted
of rape.  She'll be out of that Court in five minutes, with
everything she wants."



"If you don't plead guilty, the Court could sentence you to
life!".



"But it's not fair", I said, "It was a moment of madness to kick
the shit out of him so he almost died, and to force myself onto
my wife.  If I explain all the circumstances, the Court will
surely consider my extreme provocation."



"Look, Steve, I'm your lawyer.  My advice to you is to be humble
and sorry, and beg for mercy.  If you go in saying you were
right to do it, the Court will come down hard on you. But it's
up to you - just don't blame me afterwards if it all goes wrong."



JAIL



I should have listened to him, of course.  The Court hardly
bothered to hear me, once they had seen the video of my buddy
from his hospital bed and heard my wife sobbing.  



Almost as soon as I had started to tell them about finding my
best buddy in bed with my wife after she had denied me sex for
years, in spite of staying with her and supporting her and the
kids from my meagre wages, they cut me off.  The judge said
there was absolutely no provocation for what I had done, and
trying to make excuses showed him that I didn't really believe I
had done anything wrong.  Looking at my history of dropping out
of school, and my previous conviction for violence he had no
hesitation to sentencing me to 30 years to life.  So the best I
could hope for was to be let out when I was 56, and only then if
I had led an exemplary life in prison.  



I was absolutely stunned.  In the cells afterwards my lawyer
came to see me and said "I told you!  Now, there's only one
other piece of advice I have for you - don't ignore this like
the last lot!"



"There's a special programme being run down in Arkansas for
lifers like you.  In exchange for a loss of certain rights, your
sentence is very much reduced.  If you agree to ask to be
transferred onto that programme, I can go back to the Judge
immediately and maybe we can get the sentence reduced before all
the papers are filed."



I asked him what "rights" I would loose, and he said "None,
really in practice.  After all, if you're locked up in a maximum
security jail for 30 years you don't have many rights.  But some
guys won't volunteer for the programme as it sounds bad - you
have to agree to work at a job that you're directed to, and live
on the premises.  You have no choice of food or clothes, and of
course you're not paid.  The people overseeing you at work have
the right to administer light corporal punishment - like a light
whipping - if you don't work hard enough."



"The Government has introduced the programme on an experimental
basis as it desperately needs to reduce the numbers of men in
prison to cut costs.  They know it's a waste to keep young,
healthy guys like you locked away, getting frustrated.  Most of
you get so mad that you do something else in prison, and so
never qualify for parole.  And if and when you do get out as an
old man, you're no good for anything and are another charge on
the State."



"This way you get used to working - admittedly very hard, but
that's no different for you.  But you are relatively free to
move around and use your body.  So you're usually exhausted each
night, and sleep well.  So you're less frustrated, and after an
agreed period of years, you can be released back into Society. 
You're used to discipline, and can be a good citizen."



"Of course it offends the liberals, as it looks a bit like
slavery!  So that's why the Government is piloting it down in
Arkansas- it's so rural and remote there, no East Coast or Wet
Coast liberal is ever going to stumble across the programme in
action.  And the folks down in Arkansas don't talk about it -
they don't like strangers interfering, and anyway they value the
work they get from the people on the programme."



"I only got to hear about the programme because one of my
clients went on it a year ago.  It sounds like the only option
for you - perhaps 15 years on this programme, followed by
freedom, or 30 years at least in jail with the possibility of
freedom then only if you kept your nose clean."



I thought a bit, and asked him to go and see the Judge.  When he
came back half an hour later he told me that the Judge had
agreed, and I was signed up for 15 years to the Arkansas
programme. He shook my hand, and left, and the guards came in
and handcuffed me to take me off to the County jail.



When I arrived there, the Prison Officers looked at my records
and one said to the other that I was only going to be there
overnight as I was being collected the following day.  They
discussed whether I should be left as I was, or "processed", and
one said to the other "No, let's process him - he looks like a
good stud, and it's been a bit slow here today.  It'll cheer us
up before we go home to get a good look at a nice piece of ass".
 



I was told to strip, and it felt very funny doing so in front of
those two guards.  I was of course used to stripping off in the
locker room when I was a sports jock, and when I was working
some of my colleagues and I used to go for a skinny dip in the
creek near one of our sites at lunch breaks on very hot days. 
And I had always had a good body, and I knew it was now in
superb condition following my life of hard manual toil.  But
hearing them discussing my ass made me feel less than human.



But I had no choice, and dropped my shorts, and started to pull
my T-shirt over my head.  The guards snickered when they saw I
was wearing no underwear, but generally I didn't when I was
working as I found it constricted my cock and balls too much,
and the sweat pouring off my body made it damp and unpleasant -
better to have the air go up my shorts legs and keep me cooler
and dryer.  But they stopped their comments as I pulled my
T-shirt over my head - as I raised my arms, of course, my
stomach muscles tightened and that pulled my cock gently
upwards, as it does.  I have a big, 5" cock hanging in front of
pair of low-hanging good-sized balls, and as I struggled to free
my T-shirt from my head it swung gently, slapping into my
muscular thighs.



Then I had to get out of my socks and work boots, and as there
was no chair or bench, simply bent down to do so.  The guards
made a lot of remarks about my hard ass and muscular thighs,
which were of course displayed to good advantage as I struggled
with the laces.



Being in the shower closely watched by other guys was also a
strange experience - of course I had showered many times before
in a crowd:  but in a "sports" situation, even though you see
your buddies' bodies, you really only take a casual glance to
see how they compare with you. But here the two guards were
watching me closely as I soaped myself.  They were particularly
interested as I shampooed my hair, as moving my arms above my
head gave them a good view of my abs flexing.  And they
specifically told me to turn around so that they could enjoy the
view as I bent down to soap my ass, thighs, and legs.



But it was soon over, and I was given a fresh T-shirt, and a
pair of cotton shorts to wear.  I was taken and put into a
"holding" cell, just for the night, they said, and after the
tumult of the day I was soon asleep.



In the morning the guards brought me a breakfast tray and told
me that I was being collected at 10:00.  They advised me to
crap, as it would be a long journey to Arkansas and they knew
that the guards didn't like stopping on the trip!



I was taken from my cell and out into the prison yard, where
there was a small white delivery truck waiting.  Two guys in
uniform were waiting - it was in a light green, and the shoulder
tabs said "State Of Arkansas".  They were talking to officials
from the prison, and I saw they were signing papers transferring
me into their custody.



They looked me over and one said to the other "Shall we load him
into the back now, or wait until we pick up the other prisoners?"



"No, let's have him up front for a bit - he looks a decent guy".



I was pleased by this, but was surprised when they told me to
take off my T-shirt.  But there was nothing I could do - I was
in the prison yard, surrounded by guards, so I did as I was told
- I didn't want to get a reputation for being awkward!



I was told to get into the front seat of the truck, and when I
was in the middle the guards lifted my arms along the back of
the seat and fastened my wrists into cuffs at each end of the
bench seat.  The naugahyde felt warm and sticky behind my naked
back.  



Then the guards got in, one on each side of me,  and we drove
out of the prison gates. 



As we reached the highway the guard who was not driving reached
down  and started to tug at my shorts to pull them off.  He told
me to press down with my feet, to make it easier!



"Hey, man", I said, "I've got nothing on under these shorts!"



"Shut the fuck up! ", the guard rapped. "I know you've got
nothing on.  And if you did, we'd have that off, too.  My buddy
and I like to see the stock properly naked from the moment it
comes into our custody - you'd better forget everything you know
about clothes, because the buyer who takes on your contract will
almost certainly keep you naked.  And if we leave these shorts
on you, you might arrive with an elastic mark around your waist.
 You'd better learn that when you are given an order, you obey!"



And with that he jabbed down into my stomach with his elbow,
hard.  I screamed with the unexpected pain, and was gasping for
breath.



"Under the rules for stock in the Programme, corporal punishment
is allowed.", said the guard. "So you'd better get used to the
idea that you obey orders instantly or you get punished.  Now
raise your ass off that seat so I can get these shorts off, or
my next jab will be into your balls".



I was powerless to do anything about it, and so I wriggled
upwards.  The guard pulled my shorts down and then off my feet,
and tossed them out of the window.  I was sweating hard by now -
what had I let myself in for? - and my naked ass felt strange
against the plastic of the truck seat. When I sat down my balls
were slightly trapped between my ass and the seat, and I started
to wriggle to try to get them free.  The guard saw me doing
this, and casually reached down and pulled my balls loose, then
picked up my cock and let it flop down.



I was amazed - I had never had another guy touch my cock or my
balls before, and the casual way that the guard did it showed
that he was used to handling men in this way. I blushed, and the
guard saw me doing this and said "That's another thing you'd
better get used to.  We don't allow the stock to be modest about
their equipment, or to have any feelings about being touched or
inspected on any part of their body.  Part of your punishment is
to be deprived of any human rights, including those about
control of any part of your body."



We drove on, and soon I felt my cock starting to stir - most
guys get lots of hard-ons a day, and I always found it
particularly likely when I was driving along or in a bus.  A
couple of instants later, in spite of my nakedness and
embarrassment, I was sporting a huge erection with my cock
sticking vertically up from between my thighs.  The guards
started to laugh, and commented that it quite often happened to
stock being transported this way.  



The one who was driving took his right hand off the wheel and
grasped my shaft, just below the head. "You want a little
relief?", he asked.  



I told him to fuck off, and the next moment I was screaming in
pain because his hand had moved down and was crushing my balls. 
"You've got to learn respect, son", he said. "You always answer
a master respectfully - especially when he's trying to be nice
to you!.  Now, I'll ask you again - do you want relief?"



"No"



Another agonising pain as my balls were gripped again.



"Son, you haven't learned respect yet.  'No, Master' is what you
say. Now, do you want relief?"



"No, master".



"That's better", said the guard, but then he started to jerk me
off anyway. "You don't really have an opinion about anything in
future. Playing with your dick helps to take my mind off this
boring freeway."



Several times I almost shot my load, but he seemed to sense I
was about to come and just as I got almost to the climax, he
would stop rubbing me.  But I was almost ready, and I felt
ashamed as little rivulets of pre-cum trickled out of the end of
my piss slit and ran down the cock shaft, covering his hands.



He got tired of this after a time, and suddenly held his hand up
in front of my face. "Lick my hands clean, boy", he said, "I
don't want to get the steering wheel sticky with your pre-cum".



I resolutely refused to open my mouth, but his colleague leaned
over and gripped my balls - I knew what was coming next, so
before I could be caused any more pain I pushed out my tongue
and cleaned up his fingers.  



We drove on for an hour or so, and it was getting warm in the
cab.  Little rivulets of sweat were running from my armpits down
over my naked ribs.  The guard leaned over me and breathed in
appreciatively "I always like the tang of healthy, fresh man
sweat", he told the driver.  They then spent the time discussing
various guys they had had sex with, and the ways that their
sweat had slicked both bodies - I thought it was disgusting, and
felt nauseous at the thought of two men being in such intimate
body contact that they would slip and slide over each other's
bodies.



Signs for the jail in the next county started to appear, and
after another half an hour or so we turned in through the gates.
 We must have been expected, because after the driver had
stopped and gone onto the gate house, we were quickly waved
through into a yard where there were two guards with three
prisoners waiting.  As I watched, the prisoners were told to
strip out of their uniforms of T-shirts and jeans, and stood
there in boxers.  Handcuffs were produced, and each guys hands
were cuffed in front of him, then one after the other they were
led into the back of the truck.



Then it was my turn.  The guard uncuffed me from the sides of
the truck seat, and I was told to get out.  All the guards
looked me up and down as I jumped down, and again I was
conscious that this was not the casual glance you might give
another guy when you see him naked in the locker room, but
rather a long, appraising look, as if they were judging my
suitability for something.  I was led around to the back of the
truck, and the driver jumped down, holding three pairs of boxers
in his hands.



I was told to get up inside, and then I saw the three other
prisoners - all now completely naked, with their cuffed hands
all hanging from the same hook in the truck's ceiling.  I was
pushed together with them, and my hands similarly suspended.  



One of the guys said to the guards "Hey, man, why have you taken
our boxers?  It's bad enough being so close to these other guys,
but without shorts, it's disgusting!"



The guard only laughed in reply, and said "You guys don't yet
get it, do you?  You're going to the special facility in
Arkansas for punishment.  One of the ways in which that is done
is to humiliate you, and it starts right here!  You'll arrive
buck naked, and that's how you'll spend your time there.  Better
get used to it.  And you'll soon learn to be REAL close to your
buddies!"





So there we were - four naked guys, forced into intimate
closeness because of the way we were all hung from the same
hook.  The doors of the truck closed, and we were left in pitch
blackness.  Then the truck started off, and we realised that it
was going to be a very rough ride as we started to sway and
pitch against each other.  The only way we could remain upright
and not put a huge strain on our arms was to lock our legs
around each others, so we ended up in a tight circle, facing
each other, with our legs interlaced.





It was very hot in the truck, and sweat was poring off us.  I
could feel it trickling over my own body, and soon felt it
mingling with that of my companions on either side.  My hairy
legs kept rubbing against theirs, too. In spite of my best
efforts, the combination of the movement, the sweat, and the
intimate closeness of the other guys started to give me an
erection.  The harder I tried to fight it down, the worse it
seemed to get.  My only consolation was that in the pitch black,
the other guys would not see or even know that I was sporting a
massive hard.  But it soon became clear that they were in the
same position, because my solid cock started to get hit by
others, so closely were we all pressed.



The guy opposite me then started to talk, and said that his name
was Mitch.  He was 28, and was  - or had been - in the US
Marines, but had always been getting into trouble for
insubordination.  He had served a number of short spells in the
glasshouse, and was almost kicked out of the Service.  But he
had seen active service and was such a good fighter that he had
won an award for valour, and they thought that there would be a
scandal if he was dismissed.  But, he said, he couldn't settle
to "peacetime" life, and his general insubordination had
continued.  One day, instead of getting another spell in the
glasshouse, he was told that he as being spend on a special
government training programme - the "Arkansas experiment", he
called it.  The Marines had said that this would get the
wildness out of him, or, at least, give the problem to another
branch of the government!  He had been told that he would stay
on this special training programme for the remainder of his
enlisted period - 16 years.



The guy on my left was called Dave, and he was only 20.  He had
spent his childhood in children's homes, then, when he had to
leave them at 18, had mostly lived rough on the streets.  He had
been trying to get a job, but without proper education there was
simply nothing, and he had had to beg.  A cop had picked him up,
and with only a cursory trial, he too, had been set to "The
Arkansas experiment" for a period of not less than 10 years. 



On the right was Jim, and, like me, he was a married guy.  At 24
he already had three kids, and he couldn't earn enough to
support them.  His whole family was on welfare, and he could see
no way out - there just weren't any jobs he could get that would
pay him enough to support his wife and three children under the
age of five.  Then he had been offered a deal - if he would go
"on the Arkansas experiment", his wife's Welfare payments would
be doubled.   He and his wife agreed to part, as this was the
best thing he could do for the kids.  The Welfare people had
told him they were willing to pay his wife the extra if he left,
because then "they wouldn't breed any more kids that would be a
continuing problem for the State".  He was very hazy about the
details, but he thought that he had to stay on "the experiment"
for at least 10 years.  





I told them my story, and we clung together in hot, sweaty
closeness.  I had never been this close to other guys for so
long before - our faces were close together and I could smell
all their individual breaths.  And our bodies were rubbing
against each other, driving the smell of warm sweat up into our
noses.  As time went by another smell became apparent - like me,
they were all sporting erections and the ammoniacal  smell of
pre-cum started to mingle with the lush moistness of the sweat
from our bodies.



I don't know how long we all hung there in intimate closeness,
but the van did ultimately stop and the doors were thrown open. 
The driver and guard were standing there, and they laughed when
they saw our erections. "Another bunch of guys too horny for
their own good", they said.



RECEPTION



The guard unhooked us, and still cuffed we stumbled out of the
back of the truck.  We were in front of a low, concrete building
with a US flag on a flagpole - the sort of building that
unmistakably says "government". 



The guard shepherded us up the entrance, and we went along a
corridor with cool thermoplastic tiles on the floor.  In the air
conditioning, my sweat-soaked body started to feel cold.  We
went into a room that had a tiled area in one corner, with a
couple of shower heads over it.   The guard undid our cuffs, and
told us to go and shower.



Dave and I went to go under the two shower heads first, but the
guard said "Now, boys, don't be shy!  All four of you together
now.  And the first lesson you have to learn here is that you
don't wash yourselves - slaves wash each other.  Now, get
scrubbing!"



I ignored the guard, and started to wash my hair with shampoo
from a dispenser, and the next minute I was rolling on the floor
in agony.  The guard was standing over me with a small wand
attached to a little black box. "Listen, boy, and listen good",
he said.  "You do as you're told here, first time, every time.  
You've just experienced out little obedience device - we call it
the tickler - on one quarter power.  It's enough to knock you
over with the pain.  Don't make me do it again, with the power
turned up!  Now, get up and back with the others, and wash each
other!"



I had never had another guy shampoo me before.  In the early
days of our marriage I used to love my wife massaging my scalp
when we showered together, but this was different.  Mitch's
strong fingers rubbing the shampoo into me were quite different
from the memories of my wife's soft touch.  And then, of course,
I had to do the same for Mitch, and I rubbed the shampoo into
his military-cut short hair.



But that was nothing compared to having another guy wash you. 
Of course you sometimes touch other guys accidentally in
communal showers, but being pressed tightly together, with four
guys under two shower heads, and having another man rub soapy
hands all over your body is quite a different matter.  And I had
never really felt another man's body myself, either - it was
very strange to feel taught hard muscles under my hands, rather
than a woman's smoother, more silky body.



When we were mostly clean, I naturally reached down to soap my
own cock and balls, but the guard gestured menacingly with his
"tickler" and we all realised that we were meant to do that
intimate service for each other, too.  Jim had curly black hair,
and I gently reached down and gingerly rubbed my soapy hands
over his 4" uncut cock, then cradled his low-hanging balls in my
hand.  It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be - it just felt
like warm flesh - but then I realised that I was expected to
clean under his foreskin, too.  As gently as I could I pushed it
back off his cock head, and ran the tip of my little finger
underneath it to clear any lurking traces of smeg.  I was
uncircumcised, too, and I know that this always gives me a
strange sensation in the pit of my stomach - probably because
the bottom of your cock head is particularly sensitive if you're
not circumcised.  I knew Jim must be feeling something similar,
because there was just the trace of a little wriggle as my
finger finished probing.



He then did the same for me, teasing the skin down from my head
and ever so gently allowing the shower water to wash  under my
foreskin.  But then he put his arm down behind me, and I felt
his soapy fingers sliding between my ass cheeks.  I blushed, for
two reasons - another guy had never done that to me before, and
I was still embarrassed by it.  And because I knew I needed to
do that for Jim, too.  The crack between his cheeks was filled
with his wiry black hair, and it felt rather like it does when
you rub your own hand roughly up your own forearm, against the
arm hairs.



The water then stopped running, and all four of us stood there
dripping wet.  We were tossed very small towels, and told to
towel each other off.  Rubbing another man's body with a small
scrap of towelling was another new sensation for me, as was
having another guy pat my cock and balls to dry them, and
rubbing a rough towel between my ass cheeks.



We were led off out of that room, down another corridor, and in
to a door marked "Director".  There was a normal office inside,
with a couple of secretaries sitting at PCs, phones ringing, and
the walls lined with filing cabinets.  Being naked in the truck
was one thing, and having male guards watch you as you shower
intimately with other guys was a new sensation too, but being
naked in this normal "work" environment was quite another thing.
 All of us obviously felt the same, because we all instinctively
reached down to shield our genitals with our hands.



"Hands behind your heads", the guard rapped, and slowly we all
obeyed.  I could feel my cock stirring, and knew that it was
only a short time before I would be sporting a raging erection. 
But the strangest thing was that the secretaries hardly looked
at us at all- they went on typing and answering the phones just
as if we were normal visitors, not four good-looking guys
standing there totally nude!



We stood there for a few minutes, and then one of the
secretaries said to the guard "The Director is free.  Take them
in now", and he ushered us through the door into the inner
office.  There, behind a desk flanked with the US flag and the
Arkansas state flag, was a guy in his mid forties.  His desk was
clear, except for a small block saying "Director" in crisp
letters".



"Ah", he said, "The new recruits.  I always like to look the new
entrants to the programme over before we start work on them. 
And I like to explain what this programme is achieving. So
listen carefully, because I will repeat nothing.  In your new
condition, you do not get to ask questions, so you had better
hope that I cover everything in this briefing for you."



"You are all on 'The Arkansas Programme', which has been set up
by the Government to help us cut the numbers in prisons across
the USA.  We do this in two ways:  firstly, you will be working
here, and so you are not actually locked up.  But the important
way is that it will send a clear message to other young men not
to offend, because they, too, might end up here!  The programme
has been running for five years already, and so far we have
shown the life here to 8000 of the most hardened prisoners just
before they were released from their normal sentences - we ship
them in, for a day's inspection tour.  Re-offending rates
amongst those 8000 are only 10% of the rates in a control group
of similar prisoners who were not shown the programme."



"We only have 750 on the programme currently, and as it has only
been going for five years, we have had no "releases" so far. 
But all the indications are that we do convert hardened
criminals like you into hardworking, obedient members of
society.  We expect that the re-offence rate when you do get out
will be zero, as you will not want to return here."



"So the Government wins every way.  We do not have to house 750
prisoners in a jail.  Re-offence rates amongst other prisoners
have been dramatically cut.  And we get useful members of
society when you do eventually leave.  And whilst you are here,
you work - and work hard!  The work you do more than pays for
your keep, and so the whole 'Arkansas Programme' actually costs
nothing."



"Let me tell you about the programme.  You will be processed to
ensure that you cannot escape.  We do this in two ways -
electronically, and by marking your bodies.  Then you will be
auctioned off to local companies who need workers.  They can bid
for your services for periods of between one month and one year.
 During the time you are with a company, you will work seven
days a week.  The have the right to administer corporal
punishment if you are not working hard enough, and generally
those that use us a lot employ guards to oversee you and mete
out the punishment as necessary.  They are not allowed to damage
you physically permanently, so they cannot for example cut off a
limb if you fail to work.  But whipping is permissible, and is
indeed the option we recommend".



"At the end of the work period, you are brought back here and
entered into the next auction, where you may go back to the
previous employer, or to a new employer.  We hold one auction a
week, and generally we have about 10 men in each because of the
arrival of new workers like you, or the turnover of contracts. 
You do not, of course, have any say in the type of work you do
or who employs you - it is purely a matter of the auction price."



"All this talk of hard work for different employers, seven days
a week, and with corporal punishment if you do not work hard
enough is not the reason why our programme is so successful,
however.  The real reason that it is such a deterrent is that
you are utterly humiliated whilst you are taking part.  You will
remember that I said we tagged you electronically and marked
your body to prevent escape.  That body marking is designed to
be humiliating and in order that it is most effective, we
require your employers to keep you naked at all times.  We also
control your sexual life, and you are only allowed to jerk off
when your employer gives you permission to.  Penetrative sex
with women is absolutely forbidden, but your employer has the
right to use you for his own sexual pleasures in whatever way he
chooses."



"The seven days a week work, punishment, sexual control and
humiliation add up to a unique way of reshaping fine young man
flesh like you so that you become subservient and lose any hint
of rebelliousness.  As a shorthand, we refer to you simply as
'slaves', because that is the closest analogue to the way in
which you will in future live your lives."



"Now take them for their medical."



And with that, he waved to the guard in a gesture of dismissal
and we were led away out of his office.





End of part 1.   







      



