Like me, my friends and neighbors, we visit the police station every afternoon to de-stress and have fun whipping one of the prisoners.

With the budget cuts, the neighborhood police station started to count on our financial support, from the merchants and property owners of the neighborhood. The chief of police ordered his men to do private security, escort and all kinds of favors for us, the good men of the local elite.

One of the services we most appreciate is the police station's torture and punishment room. Me and many of my friends and neighbors started visiting the police station every evening to de-stress and have fun whipping one of the prisoners. Police officers separate the poorest prisoners without institutional or family support in a cell so that we can choose which one we want to use. They are usually homeless, unemployed, alcoholics or drug addicts with no use or social ties. They are just society's trash.

The prisoner we choose is taken to the punishment room, stripped and tied to the post. We, good family men, can spend hours having fun and mocking of the suffering and despair of the miserable. I prefer to  whip those who scream and cry all the time. I like to see those who are so terrified, urinate and defecate during the beatings.

The punishment room is a large and simple room, without windows, with smooth walls, with taps, hoses and a drain to facilitate cleaning. The walls and ceiling are smeared with lashes and blood that splashes in all directions. The sound of the whips crackling, the screams and moans of the tortured reverberated making the room very lively, almost musical.

We always had one of the prisoners naked in the room to clean the blood, urine, vomit and sperm that we spilled on the floor. The imbecile regularly washed the body of the disgusting son of a bitch attached to the pole, removing the excess blood that dripped, so as not to dirty our clothes, walls and ceiling so much.

The enthusiasm, the pleasure and the joy of whipping with a lot of violence, without haste, without limits and without any worries these human shit are so great that I often spend daily three or four hours whipping without rest. I barely see the time go by.

The excitement is so great that I, my friends and the police often jerk off during beatings. Often, the police wash the prisoner's ass, so we can fuck them. Some inmates suck on our dicks when they beg for lighter beatings.

It's more fun to whip together, in a group of friends. I have many friends and neighbors who enjoy whipping like me. We like to test new types of lash, with different materials, weights and lengths. 

We usually go directly from work to the police station, between 5 pm and 6 pm, and stay there until 8 pm or 9 pm. After our "daily sport", after our fun, we returned to our homes to have dinner with the family and kids. Our wives don't even complain that our suits and shirts arrive dirty, with lots of blood stains every day. Because, they recognize that we arrived lighter, humorous and happy after the fun at the police station.

I see every fucking idiot I whip as a challenge. One of those shitty bastards, one more stout and quiet, gave me more than a week to destroy. It endured quietly and steadily beatings for several days. Only after a week did I get him to cry in despair, begging for mercy. I made him kneel and suck my dick in front of everyone, drink my cum, my urine and lick the floor sobbing and begging me to spare him.

Making him cry like a child gave me great pleasure, it was a beautiful achievement! But, his tears did not move my heart. After the scene, I had him tied in the pole again and I whipped him with redoubled cruelty and pleasure until he passed out!

I knew later that he died in the following days. I thought it was a shame, I loved to whip that shit fag.