The cell is 7 feet by 13, with a barred window of thick, muffled glass at one end and a black painted door at the other. The cell is damp, unlit and cold, there’s no ventilation system, no running water and only a bucket to be used as a bathroom. There’s some straw on the floor to sleep on and a thin blanket to keep me warm. Meals are given through a trapdoor, about 8 inches square. Tea and bread in the morning, a watery soup at noun and a couple of pints of stirabout as dinner. Then there are the dreadful punishments and humiliations. They say you get used to anything in life, but I’m not there yet. Because there’s no predicting how often or how intense these beatings will be. Sometimes thrice a day, sometimes not at all, sometimes before and after a meal, sometimes in the dead of night, sometimes mild, sometimes unbearable, sometimes in my cell, sometimes in front of all the other inmates. It’s the insecurity that is so awful and gets to you. The Female Guards mock and humiliate me. They spit in my face, force me to lick their boots and order me to eat of the floor. All because I made a harmless joke about the Female Government. February 2056 – Slave 1422-927, Femdom Gaol.