The prisoner was forced to walk through the prison yard with a bell tied around his neck, with his wrists tied behind and completely naked.

The prisoner was sentenced to twenty years, during which time he was forced to walk through the prison yard with a bell tied around his neck. He had to walk endlessly, swinging so that the bell would ring all the time. If the ringing of the bell stopped the guards went out to whip it and beat it brutally and without mercy. In order for him not to flee from prison he was always kept with his wrists tied behind, with heavy chains fastening his ankles, and completely naked.

I simply wanted to be a slave, or even less I wanted to be just an animal.

It's been years since I decided that I did not want to be a free man anymore.

I did not want to decide anything, to take no decision. I did not want an ordinary life, family, friends, home, and bills to pay.

I wanted to be enslaved, or even less; I wanted to be just a despicable animal.

It took me some years to find a way to fulfill my dream.

I've searched social networks, apps, and the entire world web.

With great difficulty, I found only one group specialized in people trafficking that believed and accepted to market me. They said that one of the few countries in which an adult male and white man can be kept as a slave naturally is Swaziland.

There, debt slavery, caste, or voluntary slavery is accepted with normality.

The problem is that tourism to the country does not exist, obtaining visas is very difficult, and the value of a slave is meager.

Selling me there would not make any profit to the group. I had to pay all the costs and the gain of the traffickers.

But it was what I had always dreamed of.

In Swaziland, I could not return or contact anyone I ever knew.

After the difficulties were overcome, once I could be delivered as a slave there, I would be a slave for the rest of my life.

I did not have any real estate; I sold my car, gave the apartment that I rented, closed my bank accounts, and donated all my clothes, cell phone, and other belongings to a church.

I handed over all my money and my savings from years of work to the guys who dealt with my sales.

When I got to the airport, I had the ticket, the passport and only the clothes I wore.

It's been more than ten years since I arrived with a tourist visa. As soon as I disembarked, I was waited at the airport by four of my Master's employees. I think I was the only white man that landed that day.

They did not tell me anything, and they did not seem to speak English; they just put me in the truck and took a beautiful, well-paved road.

During the trip, I could see many sugarcane plantations and forests.

After two hours of travel, we arrived at a beautiful, big property.

The servants took me to a shed, and I understood they wanted my documents and told me to undress. I obeyed.

They put a chain on me like a leash and chained my feet.

They defined my name as "Nguruwe," which years later I understood to be "pig."

In these ten years, I still can not understand a Swahili word; I know only the essential words:

Truck: Lori

Download: Pakua

Food: Chacula

To sleep: Kulala

Take a shower: Omba

Punishment: Adhabu

Stick: Weka

Whip: mjeledi

Stay four: Kaa nne

Lay: kulala

Kneel: Kneel - they speak a few words in English.

Open your legs: Fungua miguu yako

Suck: kunyonya

They understand that a slave should not speak cause animals do not speak.

No one asked or explained anything, and I never talked or repeated anything they spoke.

When for mistake I say something, I usually get a slap or a thrash on the face.

I never wore any clothes or shoes and never slept in a bed. Never again have I used a bathroom or cutlery and dishes.

The man who bought me never wanted to know me, never had the curiosity. I understood that I was purchased as any other animal; there was nothing strange or abnormal.

I work in the fields or loading and unloading the trucks.

Almost all employees are men and blacks. Others are working as slaves, with chains on their necks and feet, but only I get naked all the time. All employees can beat me, and many of them beat me for whatever reason or even for no reason at all. My body, especially my legs and butt, are marked by stick strokes all the time.

I work every day, from dawn to sunrise, without rest or even on Sundays. The food is good, I can not complain. As the farm has horses and cattle, the vet examines me, vaccinates and cares for the injuries, and cuts the sugar cane crop causes.

I sleep chained to a pillar of the shed. I am raped practically every night, several times. During the day, in the middle of the work I obey when they order that I suck the dick of some foreman, manager or a simple employee. I can not disobey and admit I love to suck big dicks.

Some of them take pleasure in pissing in my face; others order that I drink the piss in front of all so that the other workers watch and debaucher. When I stumble and fall on the ground, some beat me up with the sticks, others kick me to get up, others brutally step on my face with their muddy boots. None of them have shown pity or treated me with respect in all these years. Some are spatially cruel and sadistic.

The photo above was taken by a white businessman in town when I was chained to the farm truck. They took me to town to unload the goods at the market. On these occasions, a white slave like me arouses a lot of curiosity and astonishment, attracting onlookers. Some are even more amazed when they realize that my dick gets hard when they humiliate or spank me. I'm not surprised; I'm still excited and happy whenever I'm treated like the pig I always knew I was.

I was born for that, so I've never been so happy. That was the life I wanted.

Police officers torturing a suspect with brutality and creativity.

When police officers have to interrogate a suspect outside of police stations, they often do not have the appropriate equipment. At these times, the way is to improvise, and what solves this is creativity.

I read a newspaper article that said that on a construction site, the police used ropes, a rustic ladder, and a high easel to immobilize the worker. They used thick, twisted and coiled electrical cables for the beating.

The experienced police officer forcefully grabs the construction worker's testicles, squeezing and pulling them brutally. In this way, he skillfully protects the man's scrotum so that the whips do not cause fatal injuries, but the penis is still exposed to blows and has undoubtedly been the target of several blows.

He knows to avoid the suspect's kidneys and face.

This way, after the brutal beating, if they end up deciding that the suspect is innocent, they can simply release him without any problems.

He won't have the courage to report it to the police; he's just a useless, poor, mulatto, and ignorant bricklayer. This was just another investigation carried out by our racist police.

The prisioners body is soaked with blood, sweat and tears.

When I draw the prisoner being tortured I feel horny about the situation, and when I continue to change the drawing it is as if I were watching the scene. 

The executioner does not care about the screams, the contortions, the sweat, the blood and the tears that flow through the body of the victim.

The body is soaked with blood, sweat and tears.

His beautiful penis is swollen and deformed, purple and bruised. His scrotum hangs swollen and empty. Surely he will never have an erection again.

His nipples are swollen and bleed.

The torture session lasts for hours but it seems like time does not pass.

The torture room is small and stuffy, very hot.

Having a prisoner well immobilized available to torture with the pliers is a huge pleasure!

Having a young and robust prisoner, well mobilized and with all the time to torture him with pliers, is an immense pleasure!

I like to gently grab parts of his skin with the pliers, holding parts of his skin with the pliers' side, pulling out firmly. I ask him to look at what I do with the pliers; seeing his skin being twisted and crushed must be part of the turn-on.

Choose each part to crush with the iron, and take special care of the nipples; they are susceptible and resistant. When the nipples are more prominent and pointier, it is more fun and more accessible to grab and twist them hard.

The penis and scrotum must be carefully injured; we don't want to rip out pieces yet.

The already crushed parts become bruised and purple but can be pinched again precisely because they are more sensitive.

Watching his injured and tortured body is moving.

Which do you prefer? Is the body still smooth or injured? Feel free to leave your opinion.

The face of pain and despair of the victim.

This drawing is not ready yet, it's just a preliminary post.

I wanted to show the pleasure of having the prisoner's body immobilized 

to be worked with pliers and turquoises. 

The face of pain and despair of the victim contrasts with the calm and pleasure of the executioner.

Gathering the whole family to watch the punishment of the servants.

It was expected that the whole family would gather to watch the punishment of servants, an activity that sought to combat the boredom of the long winters.

At the same time, this noisy, violent, and pathetic spectacle reiterated the unlimited power over the lives and bodies of the servants.

The fact that all family members of all ages acted naturally and happily in the face of the young servant's suffering and agony taught young people and noble children that torturing, whipping, and inflicting pain on their servants was acceptable and even necessary to maintain order and dominion over the servants.

The nobles must not show pity, mercy, or any other feeling other than superiority and cruelty. The screams of despair and the pleas of the servants were considered fun, funny, and part of the joy for the noble family to live together.