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Three steps towards Hell, part 4 by thadeusz

Shortly after, still in 2020 but I don't know exactly the date

A few days later, or weeks I don’t really know, the Captain had the same guards bring me in his office. He told me:
"183.506, my boy, you must be stupid. In less than two months you fell from section one, rather comfortable, to section two, less comfortable. And now you want to organize a strike. I have no other choice than to send you down to section three. Wilkes, take 183.506 to Sergeant Drohman and let him prepare 183.506 for section 3. Let him do what must be done."

Wilkes did not say a word but this lack of explanations made me shiver. Wilkes told two other guards to hold me firmly. Each of these guards held me by one arm. That’s how they led me to a small room provided with a metal table, and no other furniture. Inside the room, a very big and strong man in guard uniform was waiting. He had many stripes on his sleeves. Wilkes simply told him:
"Sergeant Drohman, here is another client for you."
Then he left, leaving me with this big sergeant and the two other guards. Sergeant Drohman told me:
"Undress completely, I want you naked and fast."
I had heard that before, so I obeyed without understanding why he wanted that, but I had realized that I was now going to be punished once again. Except that I did not know how and for how long.

Sergeant Drohman shouted:
"Now, stupid boy, lie on my table."
I did that, looking at the ceiling, but the SGT told me then:
"The other way round, I want to see your nice little fat bottom."
This made me feel very cold: I really did not know what was going to happen, but I obeyed since I had no choice.
"Your arms as far away from your body as you can, boy."

As soon as I had done what he wanted, the two other guards got hold of my arms and fixed each of them to a strap attached to the table. Drohman attached himself my feet to the table, far from one another. I assumed he was going to whip me and that would be it.

But Drohman got first hold of my left leg and placed something cold, metallic, around my ankle. I assumed that I would now provisionally have to wear this cold thing as if it were a prisoner ball. Drohman started to sing and then placed a similar thing, which I could not see, on my right ankle. I had still not guessed what he was doing and my legs were far apart. That’s when the Sergeant started to attach something to that left prisoner ball, using an electric drilling machine to have it well fixed. He then moved my feet much closer to one another and attached something, rather heavy, on my right prisoner ball. He was helped by the two guards who held firmly my legs. When he was done, Drohman told me:
"Well, you have now nice shackles and the solid chain to keep your feet together."

That’s when I dared ask a question:
"Sergeant, how long will I have to keep these shackles ?"
"As long as the Captain wants, and that’s as long as he keeps you in section 3."
I was still attached to that stupid table, but I started to shout that they did not respect my constitutional rights. But all clamours and vociferations served no purpose. Drohman and his aides continued their work.

I had now permanent and heavy shackles linked by a heavy chain. Drohman and his aides added to that heavy metallic bracelets on each wrist and a special metallic collar on my neck. The two other guards held me firmly while the SGT was doing this dirty job. When he was done,he ordered the two guards to release the straps and then he told me:
"Get down of my table and stand up in the position of attention."
The chain connecting my ankles was relatively short which made this operation difficult. Moreover, the chain linking my ankles was constantly producing an annoying rattling on the floor. I noticed that the metallic circles on my wrists could also be connected by a chain, transforming them into handcuffs. Moreover another chain was fixed to my metallic dog collar and left there for a purpose I ignored.

I was still naked and ashamed. I was also furious, but I could do nothing with the two guards holding me firmly.

That’s when Drohman told me:
"Stand up and show how you walk."
I tried, not knowing what else I could do, but it was painful because the shackles rested immediately on my ankles and because the chain was short. That’s when Drohman added something to this set of chains: he placed a chain where my belt should have been and attached another chain from my new belt to my ankles chain in order to pull the last one about an inch from the ground and stop the rattling, but this did not make my chain less heavy, on the contrary.

I felt humiliated, but I was also frightened not knowing what else they would impose on me. I kept claiming that this was contrary to my constitutional rights and Drohman, simply, took a small whip from his pocket and started to punish me, using the fact that I was still naked.

I was feeling enslaved.

The Sergeant took me then, shackled, once more, to the usual places. But this time the barber shaved completely my head with his big razor, and it hurt. He warned me that he was purposely leaving scars so that I will "ever and ever" remember this transformation. Needless to say, he had his big razor in one hand and he oriented brutally my head with the other hand !
He then shaved my eyebrows, claiming that I did not need them anymore. Then came my face.

All this was followed by the usual shower and, this time, very brutal spraying with disinfectant. Then came the delicate moment. I was expecting a new uniform, instead of that Drohman took me to what he called "the dressing".

I could do nothing except keep shouting that they did not respect my constitutional rights, but the guards holding me and Drohman did not react. Finally, I was exhausted and stop fidgeting and shouting.

Drohman chained then my wrists. He also showed me my new uniform. No undies, but very strong and nevertheless very thin leggings plus a sort of fine and strong t-shirt, all provided with white and black horizontal stripes, and of course my prisoner’s number in front and in the back. Drohman showed me how to put my leggins on while keeping my shackles. Finally he gave me new plastic clogs: white for the left foot and black for the right foot. After all that, he led me, still furious but also slightly anxious, towards the Captain’s office. It was not far but it was painful: the shackles were heavy and thus painful on my ankles. Moreover the chain between them was relatively short which made it more and more difficult to simply walk.

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