Chapter Four
It has been two days since my last confession.
I wonder if they come in to read you, diary? The cell door is open to everyone except me, it seems. I have lost count of my visitors, a seemingly endless parade of anonymous strangers, male and female, who come to use and abuse me.
Sometimes I entertain them in my cell, chained face down on my bunk with a cushion under my ass to raise it. At times I am kneeling to take the men in my mouth, or crouching on the bed to lap p***y while someone penetrates me from behind with a hand, a c**k, a dildo, or any other object they may fancy. Other times I am led away—to the huge tiled room they call “the waterworks,” or to the cellar for disciplinary sessions.
Two days ago, I was taken to attend Brant while he did the business of the c
