Good night in the rubber dungeon

he day in the rubber gulag was tough. Your rubber slave pig spent hours breaking stones, dragging chains, chafing her ass raw and sweating until the heavy rubber
clung to her like a second skin – wet, stinking, glistening with sweat and humi***
Now the sow is being led back to her cell. The guard yanks her by the chain, her bare feet dragging on the cold concrete. She's stuffed into the sauna sack—a thick, 
impermeable rubber bag that immediately clings to her entire body, tight, hot, .suff*** The zipper is zipped, the air pumped out until the sack kisses her skin and every 
breath becomes agony.

Then the gas mask—heavy, with a thick breathing tube that only allows controlled oxygen to pass through. The tube is connected… and suddenly the first gush of warm, 
salty urine comes. It runs through the tube directly into the mask, into her mouth, down her throat—the sow swallows, gags, trembles, as the urine fills her from the inside and 
the sack tightens ever more.
 
She's completely restrained: arms strapped to her body, legs bound together, bag sealed, mask locked. No escape. No light. Only heat, the smell of rubber, the bitter taste 
of piss, and the knowledge: tomorrow at 5 a.m. it's back out again—breaking rocks until her bones scream.

Good night, my little rubber pig… Sweet dreams about your next hard day in the Gulag. You belong here. Forever.