Chapter 7: Vale of Tears

Things end but memories last forever. A double-edged sword which can be a blessing and a curse.

I am terribly sorry for how long this update has taken! I had got myself a new job and my old laptop had a sudden and untimely death so I had to get myself a new one before anything else. I was meant to start working on this a lot earlier and I have the plot for this chapter visualised in my head for some time. Also forgot to mention it - this was actually finished at the midnight yesterday, so happy Independence Day for all of my American readers!

Warnings: Objectification, forced masturbation, hydrotherapy, mummification, drug abuse, exhibitionism, whipping; generally abuse in all kinds. Hints of depression.


"The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It's the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared."

― Lois Lowry, "The Giver"


The chilling silence in the cell was broken by a commotion. Instead of warmth, the light that slipped in from the ajar cell door only brought in horror and pain as the orderlies barged into the dark, small room holding the petite personification. The figure on the bed, if it could be called one as it was only a thin and battered mattress, shivered with the rude awakening.

Trembling, he tried his best to curl up to make himself smaller to draw attention away, not wanting to bring further harm to his already aching body; though his effort was greatly hindered by the bonds that tied him tightly to his bed. His resistance was futile as the familiar jeering faces of his guards once again entered his sight.

"Wakey-wakey, sleeping beauty! Ready for a new day of reforming?" The commander spotted a wide grin, but it offered no assurance to his inmate. His underlings had not wasted a second in surging forward and took hold of his legs, pulling them apart for examination.

To their enjoyment, the diaper was a dark yellow, clearly soaked. The two took off the plastic ripped the diaper apart, leaving the nation completely bare for all to see.

"You see, now it is harder to spot when you have peed with a diaper on. It is a bit troublesome for us to tally the number for the daily spanking." Whipping out a small chip, his grin widened. " Don't fret, we have the perfect tool to help us out! Simply insert this thing into your privates, and it will count whenever fluid is discharged from your cock, don't even think about hiding it from us!"

His breath hitched when he heard the words. Chipped like a pet, or even worse, leaving a mark on him for identification as if they were printing a barcode on him like goods being sold in stores. The words that followed had plunged him in even deeper despair.

"We will be scanning it at regular intervals to track and log your numbers. See the screen over there?" Pointing at the wall facing his bed where a display screen hung, the commander laughed, sinister glee apparent in his eyes. "The daily and weekly numbers will be displayed so you will know how disgusting you are. Now, doc, go ahead and do your magic."

A man dressed in a white lab coat strode forward, several assistants trailing behind him. One of them parked a trolley next to the nation restrained on the bed. Resisting the fate that was about to befall him, England struggled the best he could with his binds, kicking and screaming to try to get the men to back off. Resistance was once again futile as he was pinned down, the doctor carefully picking up a scalpel and a pair of forceps. No warning was given when the sharp knife cut open the delicate skin, inciting a pained scream as the clinician had not even bothered with anaesthetics. Picking up the microchip with the forceps, the man embedded the chip into the muscle firmly, his actions swift and decisive, as if he had been performing similar practices for years and was no longer fazed at the request of such a peculiar operation. The skin was quickly sealed back and the orderlies had a better idea to cover the wound up.

"Great work as always. Here, mark him up." Passing the doctor a tattoo pen, the guards stepped back as they observed the doctor's work in anticipation.

The doctor was clearly skilful at the art with his intricate manoeuvre. A barcode tattoo with his inmate number was sketched right above his crotch, where his pubic hair used to be. With all of them gone, it was exposed to all to ogle at.

The tattoo burned not only his flesh, but also scarred his heart. A mark for identification, similar to goods being sold in stores. Permanently marked as he was only good for being subjected to degradation and torment, dehumanising him as far as it could go.

The group of men was indifferent to the plight and despair he was in, as two pills were roughly shoved into his mouth before his head was yanked backwards, forcing him to swallow them.

"Two diuretic pills for resisting. Seems like you will be a mess today." A water bottle was then pushed upon his mouth to assist the unwilling victim in downing the dreaded medication, the other guards keeping themselves occupied with wrapping a new diaper around his waist.

He was hurled off the bed once he had been changed, the men prepared him for a new day of ignominy and disgrace.


Sitting on the highchair in the refectory for his daily ration, England bowed his head in indignity. Knowing he was being made an example of had not been easy for the former empire, who used to hold his head up high with pride over his territories which spanned across continents and possessed wealth to contest the world, now merely a plaything.

Once again forced to undress in front of the entire population of the institution, England had tried his very best to brush it off, but hearing that his body was being commented on, sensing he was being judged and feeling he was being groped had brought his unbearable shame, his eyes finding the floor to be the most interesting thing to stare at as he was being examined again.

Once they were satisfied with their invasive cavity search, he was once again pulled along by the strap on the collar of his straitjacket. Heavy footsteps echoed through the hollow hallway, resonating with the sinking feeling in his heart.

Where were they taking him?

What were they planning to do with him?


Going through the corridor and taking the elevator, he was brought to a new floor. The atmosphere was tense, cold and unwelcoming, a constant staple for the hospital. The guards had kept their lips tightly sealed this time, keeping England on his guard, wary of what might be in store for him. Finally, they had come to a stop in front of two double doors, which Donelly stepping forward to push the door open, revealing their destination.

The spacious room was filled up with bathtubs lining up neatly in a row, heavy-duty canvas covering each of them. Some of them was already occupied, the heads of the patients poking out of layers of fabric. Each of them accompanied by a nurse sitting on a stool beside them, muttering to their submerged charges. Keeping a firm grasp on their captive, the orderly led England to an empty bathtub, the nurse sitting on the stool beside it stood up to greet them eagerly.

"Hello Bertha, here's a job for you. This is Arthur, the new supermax inmate." Pushing England forward, the guards responded in kind, enthusiasm evident in their voice. "We will help you to settle him in, then we will be off for a break and leave him in your capable hands. Sounds good to you?" After a quick affirmative from the nurse, the team set to work immediately.

Upon taking the straitjacket off, England was restrained with shackles again as the men worked on peeling the diaper off him, leaving it on the ground. He was hefted up and placed inside the tub, the nurse holding the canvas off for the guards. Lifting up his chained hands, the handcuffs were removed and each of his arms was pushed through a hole on each side of the canvas.

Taking his hands and dipping them into cold, freezing water, the nurse tending to him smiled as she laid out the plan in front of him.

"A touch of cold water will promote incontinence. Hopefully you will pee in the bathtub, nothing suits you better than being in your own body waste."

He was going to retort when Bertha picked up the drenched diaper lying on the ground, inspecting the condition of it and grinned when she saw it was fairly well used with a prominent trail in the crotch area.

Smirking, she yanked England's head backwards and tied the diaper to England's head tightly, enclosing him with the stench of his urine. The nation flailed around as his sight was suddenly robbed from him, replaced with complete darkness and an unpleasant odour.

Turning open the water tap, Bertha watched in rapt attention as he struggled to escape from the scathingly hot water, before covering him with the canvas to trap the heat.

"Now, now, you are in this predicament because you have put others through Hell and deserved much worse than what you are going through right now. We are kind enough to let you have only a fraction of the kind of heat you will face in Hell. "

Scorching water filled the tub in no time, giving England no time to adjust as the heat bit at his delicate skin, reddening them as he twisted and turned in desperation in the water. He could feel himself releasing a wave of liquid between his legs as he relinquished his control to the heat.

"This is merely a fraction of the pain you have put your family through. Did you punish them like this even if they are crying out for help, begging you to stop? Did you force them to do what they detested? Did you put them through eternal horror, letting it eat at them until they were too weak to even struggle?"

"They had felt like this before, trapped in burning agony with no escape; and this is what you will experience right here, right now. You had shown no mercy to them, did you? You should thank you for being generous enough to keep you fed and let you live."

He had known all those words said were a plot for him to surrender himself completely, but he couldn't help but wonder if there was an ounce of truth in those words.

He had always thought his former colonies, now becoming members of the Commonwealth of Nations, had been his very own loving family. It was the family he had yearned for when he was still a child taking shelter in the woods from the arrows of his invaders.

He had always thought they had felt the same. That his children too, had loved the salivating savoury of fresh apple pie homemade in their family home, the fragrance of the handkerchief which he had dotingly knitted for each of them, the walks and picnics he had organised for a family gathering.

Those had been his most precious memories, his happiest moments in his long life.

Was it the same for his charges too? Did they cherish the time they had spent together?

No matter how he had tried to deny it, they had left him all by himself, none of them opting to stay by his own side. The only visits had always been request for something from him, never staying for a spare moment once they got it in their hands. England had always stood by the doorway, hoping they would turn back just to give him a wave, but he had never seen them turning back, always leaving in a haste.

As if… As if they had not wanted to stay even for a moment longer in his presence.

He was nothing but an old archaic figure, chaining all those young souls to a restrictive time when they had to live by his controlling rules and manipulative ways.

To realise he had been the very own cause of all the miseries and tragedies for those he had cherished the most, that he had been the one who had prohibited their own pursuit of the future had been devastating.

The weight of conscience had weighed him down.

England ceased his clash with the water and laid completely still. His heart raw from the painful recognition that he had never been the perfect parent he had envisioned himself to be.

He was guilty as charged for being a force of destruction for his own colonies.

The water was drained abruptly as it had started to cool down, and was replaced by a fresh wave of water, this time numbingly cold. The frigid water stung his skin and signs of frostbite materialised. His body was aching, but England, succumbing to his guilt and ruefulness, had started to register it was only appropriate for him to take the discomfort head on.

"Icy water is going to calm you down. You are quite an aggressive one judging from your past history, hopefully this will cool you down." Leaning towards his ears, Bertha continued. "Tranquil patients who are cooperative will have a much easier time here as they have displayed a willingness to reform themselves. Trust me, you had not even seen the worst punishment we could dish out. Think about your children… Didn't they suffer enough? Didn't they deserve your apology? What's done had been done but you can show you had known the errors of your way by being good. They would be happy to see this, don't you think so?"

His children would be happy.

For once, they would be pleased to see him.

Not an awkward meeting which even a brief conversation had proved to be difficult.

Not a screaming match which would end with his former colonies pinning the blame of their woes and misfortunes on him.

Not a cold shoulder and a sneer whenever he had made an approach to them, wishing for nothing but to ask and care for their wellbeing.

For once, he would not be hated and despised.

A hopeful smile tugged the corner of his mouth as he dreamt for the grins and laughter from his own cherished family.

He would do anything just to see them happy and joyous.

Submerged in water, England could hardly keep track of time. The water was boiling hot at one time and freezing cold at another, his body going numb with the extreme and intense change of temperature.

"Oh, so Arthur still has his diaper when he is in hydrotherapy! It suits him nicely, wouldn't you think?" He heard the voice of his orderlies before feeling his clothed cage being lifted.

Yanking open the canvas, the water in the tub was yellowish in colour, laying open the fact that the encouragement and attempts had succeeded in for him to relieve himself.

Being hoisted up from the water by the men, Bertha dried him with a towel, powdered him and helped him into a new diaper before finally removing the dirty one binding his head, allowing him to regain his vision and escape from the effluvium.

Once again he was steered away by his wardens, shipping him off to another session of abuse and mistreatment. England could barely feel his own body, his sense of feeling had been completely wrecked by being placed in an environment of extreme temperatures.


Heading towards the main entrance of the building, they had stopped in front of an enormous room adjacent to the reception. The placement of chairs, coffee tables and sofas suggested the room was a designated lounge and it did not differ much from what would otherwise be a normal common room other than how it was divided into two sections. One section contained a fitted kitchen, serving as the staff pantry, with cupboards full of teabags, coffee powder and a wide array of beverage options. Pots and pans were readily available for staff members to cook on site. Separated by glass doors, the other part had been set up with partitions, each of them being a small enclosed zone with transparent walls and doors. England was unceremoniously shoved into one of the cubicles as prisoners started to trickle into the area, flanked by their guards.

"Welcome to your repentance lesson. You will now willingly expose yourself for your sin and shame. Hands on your diapers now."

England froze when he heard the words. He could hardly believe what he was being ordered to do. Touching and feeling himself while exhibiting his own body in public was unthinkable.

"Rub your crotch. I want everyone to keep rubbing until your diapers are leaking. You know the drill, we will take your diaper off then and you will masturbate stark naked and let us see you pissing yourself publicly."

"Say your apologies while you are at it. Even though for criminals like you, your words are worthless, so your pleas will only be considered if we see you touching yourselves, do I make myself clear?"

Noticing a new face among the forlorn group of prisoners, the brawny man booming out the announcements turned his attention to the British nation who had been trying to regain his composure ever since hearing the words. He could feel his diaper getting moist after knowing what punishment he was to be subjected to as mortification filled his entire being.

"Oh, a new face? Don't think you will be shown any mercy, you dirty scum deserves none of that. Should you not show some repentance given how much you have sinned and how many people you have wronged? Hand on your diaper now or we will do the job for you. "

The nation had never felt so helpless before. Sounds of crinkles made him aware most of his fellow inmates had resigned to their fate, too demoralised and defeated to put up a fight. Yet, each of them seemed to be at peace, as if they had already come to terms with touching themselves under the leering and jeering of all the staff members and guests of the facility.

Yet, the words echoed in his mind, refusing to leave the troubled nation alone. The shadow of his past had never left him, the ghosts of his less than commendable actions which he had pushed back to the back of his mind in pursuit of glory had returned to haunt him in full force.

How much he had sinned.

The sounds of sword clashing with shields rang sharply through his head as a bloody battlefield had manifested in his mind. His own past had been filled with wars and conquests ― waging a war or a war waged on him; to conquer and to be conquered.

How many he had wronged.

The war cries from his brothers as they faced each other on the battlefield. The begs for mercy from his adversaries which he had turned away wilfully. The teary pleas from his colonies which he had not even graced them with a reply.

He deserved every punishment and if it would make those he had aggressed against to be freed the demon that was his past self, so be it.

Is it not what justice would call for, for him to atone for his sins?

Trembling, he had put his hand on his diaper, slowly rubbing his crotch as he kept his head down, wishing to hide himself away from shame as he could feel the watchful eyes of the guards on him.

His face was burning as he could feel his own member starting to harden and a visible bulge could be seen. One quick glance at the other prisoners in his neighbouring stalls had answered his unspoken question that he was not alone in how the punishment had brought them arousal. He could feel his diaper becoming damp with the simulation.

"Go faster. Touch yourself as fast as you can. We will keep track of how quickly you will have your diaper soaked. The quicker it takes, you will have proven yourself to us you feel true remorse for your actions." With those words, the personification increased his pace, but clearly it was not up to the satisfaction of his watchful instructor as he stomped to him, not impressed with what he was witnessing.

"Do you have no shame? You are not doing this for your own pleasure. This is a punishment for lowlife like you! You are here to masturbate and wet yourself publicly to show everyone you are sorry for your reprehensible actions and will submit to punishment and humiliation befitting to your crimes! If you won't do this properly, then I will do it for you. Get ready to pee like a fountain, vermin."

He was given no time to adjust as the man put his hand on his diaper and rubbed furiously. The ferocious rubbing had soon caused liquid to flow freely out of his diapered member, but that had not deterred the man to stop his movement. Instead, feeling his prisoner had been relieving himself constantly as predicted had brought a smirk to his face.

"See, peeing like a fountain as I said. You will masturbate as fast as this next time you set foot here. Do I make myself clear?" Nodding meekly, England lowered his head and squeezed his eyes tight; but his torturer had not relented.

"Now, where are your apologies? Say it as if your victims are in front of you." The orderly gripped his head with his free hand, his right hand still massaging the front of his captive's diaper rapidly. "Look at your own diaper and see for yourself when you soak yourself. This is part of your punishment as well, don't you dare to avoid it." Turning his gaze downwards, England was welcomed to the sight of a bright yellow diaper, signifying it was full of urine. The soggy diaper was drooping, a clear sign that it would not take long for it to give way to releasing the fluid discharged from his body if the current stream was to continue.

His throat was dry and he could hardly get any words out as he endured the ongoing sexual assault on his body, but a stuttering, small voice he could barely recognise as his own had reacted, desperation, sorrow and embarrassment evident in his voice.

"I… I am sorry… For everything. I am sorry for neglecting you all … and manipulating you … only working towards my own gain even if it meant pain and suffering for you. I… am sorry for hurting and killing all those people… Please forgive me… Please -" His speech came to an abrupt close as the sound of droplets hitting the floor was heard.

The massaging came to a pause as the guard took a moment to admire his work. "Phew, finally! What a sight to behold, it does feel good to have the honour of breaking a new inmate in." Giving a few more rough rubs in the front of the dripping diaper, a stream soon erupted from the plastic confines and hit the floor in full force.

England trembled in pure horror. It was already a nightmare to be touched without consent, but now he had wetted himself to the extent that when the diaper was no longer able to hold it in, it was clear that he had completely loss the control of his bladder and he could be wetting himself anywhere and everywhere.

"Now let's say hello to the world naked as the day you were born. Can't wait to see and feel your little cock." The guard smirked as he tore the diaper apart by the sides and tugged the contraption off his body.

Ravenous eyes ravished his body as the man took his time admiring the body in front of him. No privacy, no dignity and no respect was given to the trapped nation who was forced to endure being gaped at.

Fingers trailing down his balls, the guard grinned as he squeezed them, earning him a yelp of pain before gripping his charge's member and started to knead it mercilessly.

England's small frame shook as he was being violated, his grip on the board acting as a wall separating him from his fellow prisoner being the only thing holding the nation up. Reaching to his rear, his hole was being poked at in search of his prostate. Trying not to give in, England tried to suppress his reactions when the man had hit the jackpot, but his tormentor was observant and the flinch that had been held back seconds too late did not escape his scrutiny. Soon he was being invaded in both of his most intimate areas, with no mercy being shown to his abused body.

Three fingers pressed and circled the sensitive nub of nerves in his hole relentlessly, while his cock was stroked as it stood tall to the attention. Sporadic spasms went through England's body as waves of arousal passed through his body, bringing him closer and closer to the edge of orgasm.

"Look at you, enjoying yourself, hmm? Looks like you are getting used to your life here now; trust me, it is better this way as you will frequent this place to finger yourself for display." His eyes lit up in glee as he felt the wall constrict around his fingers. "I have been waiting for the show to commence. Let yourself loose and let me see the fireworks! After all, I deserve a treat after working so hard on you."

As if on cue of his words, the nation's body was sent into convulsions as he was blinded by whiteness with his full force orgasm.

Yet, as if it was not enough of a humiliation that he had come when he was forced upon, a stream of clear, transparent liquid leaked out of his cock, lying into him the undeniable fact of how intense his climax was.

"That's a rare sight, well worth the price I'd say! You have given me a good show, but you're dead wrong if you think the session will now end." The hands that had momentarily left had returned to their positions to continue caressing his privates.

"Now Arthur, be a good boy and start pissing." Lost in the haze of being touched, England had not paid any attention to his guards. Michael and Donnelly were sitting on a coffee table, eyes rapt in observing his punishment, while the remaining one had spoken impatiently, eager to shame his prisoner.

Hearing the encouragement from his colleagues, the instructor increased his pace and rubbed even more ferociously. His inmate did not last long until a torrent of urine was spewed, showering himself with splashes of his own excretion. Not even allowing a moment for him to rest, hands were on his genitals again for another round of humiliation.

"How does it feel for you to be touched and peeing like an animal in public? Must be fun as you look happy." Jeremy grinned, eyes sparkling in dark mirth. "Say your prayers and apologies, you will only be released once you are completely spent."

He peed a little hearing the words in horror, which was soon taken advantage of as the hands increased their speed and were starting to find success in where his most sensitive parts were. Another flood of piss rushed out of him, joining the increasing large puddle on the ground.

His grip on the holding rails installed on the sides of the stall was slacking as he was subjected to continuous stimulation. He could feel his strength being sapped as all of his energy was being utilised for focusing on the onslaught and the discharges that followed. A steady flow of urine was leaking out of him as the hands kept rubbing and stroking until he was no longer able to hold himself up and dropped to the floor, eyes glassy without focus.

Repeating his mumbled apologies as if it was a mantra, England had shown no signs that he was aware of himself sitting in a puddle of his own urine and was still letting out some more unconsciously.

Jeremy took out his phone and snapped a photo of the victim before Michael joined him to pull the victim up. Carrying a barcode reader, he held it close to the barcode tattoo above England's crotch before informing his prisoner what that would entail for him.

"You have peed a lot - the numbers recorded here will be amazing! Now we are good to go, we need to wipe you down and get you a new diaper."

Reaching out to grab his arms, their patients showed no sign of acknowledgement as he repeated the words of apology and begged for forgiveness as if it was a ritual incantation when he was being led out.

Passing through the stalls along the way to the shower room, many prisoners sat or laid on the floor on their own body waste, drained and barely aware of their surroundings. Torn and used diapers beside them displayed they had gone through similar treatment with England. Without giving a second glance to the captives, Michael and Jeremy stomped forward, pulling England forward with a vice grip.

Reaching the end of the corridor, the two guards threw him on the ground unceremoniously. Jeremy soon yanked a ragged cloth from the hooks on the wall and a piece of new diaper, returning to their captive who had not moved from the position he left him in, with Michael pulling his legs wide open.

Tucking the rag between England's legs, Jeremy wiped him off roughly, without a hint of care. Flinging the cloth to the ground once the privates of his charge was dry, the diaper was opened and tugged onto the waist of the abused prisoner.

The new diaper was fastened around his hips with an utmost sense of efficiency, quoting his two escorts as they would not want to clean up if he wet himself during their delay. Noticing England did not acknowledge any of their actions, as if lost in his own world, Jeremy rubbed the diapered crotch of his patient to provoke a reaction, and was finally satisfied when he started to tremble and turned towards his assailant.

"It's close to dinner time. A baby like you needs nutrients to nurture your growth. Down the milk like you are supposed to and you will have an easier time ahead. Don't forget you have your daily spanking waiting." Hearing those words, more pee escaped from his confinement and was readily absorbed by the fluffy apparatus. A plastic diaper cover and a straitjacket were once again fitted to his body, an standard outfit for any high-risk patients in the asylum.


He was ushered towards the direction of the dining hall by being towed by his crotch strap, his overseer making sure the strap would create friction with his every movement. After all, sexual humiliation had always been effective in breaking the hardened shell if their prisoners, as even the most notorious murderer would be making their plea with their own body being paraded and constantly violated.

England had lost track of time and without realising it, he had found himself arriving at the dining hall and being bound to a highchair. Once again, there were four bottles of milk and a bowl of plain and unappetising porridge on the food tray, along with a small bowl of clear but thick soup.

"Be a good boy and you will have less strikes waiting for you. I hope you know you are already in plenty of trouble today and will get a burning ass as your reward, but if you don't drink your milk now, we will report it and make sure you get your rightful punishment." Hearing the words, England opened his mouth as the plastic teat of the milk bottle was pushed into his mouth.

He had finished his porridge and was halfway through the milk when the guards started stirring the strange soup with a spoon. "An unruly boy like you would certainly need extra medication to sedate. This is going to ensure the remorse you felt today was drilled into your head for years to come. Now, drink it all; your past atrocities would stay as your nightmares, is it not befitting that the punisher is now being punished by his own actions?"

Shaking his head, England turned away, pulling at his restraints as the liquid screamed danger to him and set all his warning bells off. The resistance was futile as the men came prepared and soon gripped him by his scalp, holding his head up high as all of the content in the bowl was poured into his throat. A milk bottle was soon stuck into his gaping mouth and the milk washed all the solution down his throat.

The supper had ended with choking and coughing as England tried to recover from being force fed. He was given no time to prepare himself as he was plucked out of the highchairs after he had finished everything on the small table. Being made to stand beside his seat, Jeremy pushed the crotch strap to the side as he yanked the plastic cover and pushed against the diaper to reveal on barcode tattoo seared on his prisoner's body and pressed the reader against it, before tidying up England's outfit again and brought him out of the hall.

The dreaded walk to Dr Myers' office was in a torturous silence. The hallway was mostly empty, with only one or two nurses passing by occasionally, clipboard in hand. England's hope of the stroll being uneventful was mercilessly dashed when one of the porters noticed a patient walking among them, eyes lit up in pure delight and excitement.

"Oh, so this is the new supermax patient?" Receiving a nod and a grin from the two guards flanking England, the porter sneaked a hand inside the plastic cage and seized the prize underneath.

"Feel free to touch him, he has no right to how his body is used. This will help him understand how inferior he is; everyone in this facility has the right to touch him whenever and wherever they like." Looking at the clock on the wall, the porter retreated his hand as he recognised it was time for him to go. "I'd have to go now, still have some linen left to deliver. Such a shame, the little guy down there is getting wet but I wanted him to come." Disappointment evident, the porter was about to turn away when Michael stopped him in his track. "Don't go yet, he failed in pleasing you and must redeem himself."

"Hands on your diaper, I want you to masturbate and apologise until the gentleman here is happy." England's breath hitched as he noticed more workers had gathered around when they realised there would be a show. "Now!" Michael barked, glaring at the nation as he hesitated as he untied England's hands, releasing them from the long sleeves of the straitjacket simply for him to inflict his own punishment on himself.

"Who do you think you are? You are a criminal who abuse your siblings, who maim and murder! You won't ever do enough to earn their forgiveness and acceptance, but it won't ever start if you don't even understand how wrong you are!"

The face of the ancient Roman Empire appeared, bright red with anger as he shouted at how much of a let-down he was.

Spain's horror-struck expression as he realised his Armada, his pride and joy, was gone forever, buried deep under the seabed.

Portugal, his very best friend, his olive green eyes filled with pain and disbelief in front of a British ultimatum.

He had never been good enough.

He was a failure.

As if it was not enough, he was ruthless. A heartless monster who could not see how much hurt and destruction he had caused.

The last thing he could do was accepting that he would need to be corrected.

Taking a deep breath, England rested his hand on the diaper, pushing the strap aside as he started to rub his privates hard and fast, murmuring his plea and regret.

The show went on until he had wetted himself, with Michael and Jeremy declaring he had been disciplined by exhibiting his diaper, its crotch area had a pale yellow spot indicating it was getting wet. After coercing England to offer his appreciation for the witness of his penalisation, he was directed to his physician's office for another round of beating.

Dr Myers was already waiting impatiently when the group made their appearance. An explanation provided by Donelly had the doctor chuckling in amusement, as he took out a reader and slipped it under the diaper to read the chip.

"Arthur here surely loves to wet himself. He has been wetting himself in every single important moment. His mouth may not admit it, but his body knew how evil he was and had given himself away in such shameful moments." His lips tugged upwards in glee after reviewing the numbers. "Seems like the added dose of pills do wonders. I had imagined he would be having doubled counts of wettings, but he had exceeded my expectations. Good to know you have a sensitive body, 15 times a day is amazing."

"You will be getting 85 strikes today, 5 for each wetting and 10 for disobedience. 5 more if you relieve yourself during the spanking as usual, announce when you are urinating or you will have 10 strikes instead, understand?"

Nodding meekly, England was stripped to nudeness as he was put atop a stool, a large glass bowl placed underneath him in anticipation of possible wettings, much to his chagrin.

It was a swift plummet to agony as his buttocks were hit with unrestrained force repeatedly, turning unblemished skin an angry red. Biting his lips, he could feel the taste of copper in his mouth to realise he had drawn blood. He had been descending to numbness as the beating continued when he could feel fluid letting loose and splashed into the bowl.

"I… I wet myself." Muttering in a small voice which was barely audible, the doctor frowned, discontented with his response and earned him an even harder smacking.

"Louder. I did say announce when you wet yourself, didn't I? Such a small voice won't count as I can't even hear you properly. Even a dog can do better than you and have more control. You will have 10 strokes instead as what you did was unsatisfactory."

The whipping continued, occasionally stopping when bouts of accident happened, which awarded him more hits. His bottom was crimson and bruised when the flagging finally came to an end.

"Take him away. Get him washed and back to his cell. He will have another long day ahead." Dr Myers waved his hand dismissively once the session came to an end, watching the three guards dressed England again before the inmate was guided out of the office.


Finding himself in the same shower room as before, sprayed with cold water and his vital regions being touched when his own convoy of guards performed a cavity search without forgetting the prostate massage.

Carried to the changing station, he was adorned with a fresh set of straitjacket and diaper with plastic cover to prolong the usage of the contraption.

Steering their patient to retreat to their confinement, Donelly gave a rough patting to his captive's cock. "Oh, many of my ancestors would kill to see a limey receiving re-raising. Not so almighty now, do you?"

He had expected the Irish jibe, but it had still cut through him and sliced his heart open.

To say he did not have the best relationship with Ireland was an understatement. He knew his brother would never forget, but he had tried to atone with goodwill, hoping that one day, his brother would be willing to hear his side of the story out.

Donelly words had smashed his dreams.

He was hated. Rightfully so.

This was where he belonged; imprisoned and tormented, serving a sentence like any common criminal.

With a heavy heart, he treaded onwards, reaching his cell at the very last. A plaque with his name had been hung next to the iron door for identification, hammering the fact that he was now under the control of the facility into his mind.

Untying his hands and taking the straitjacket off him, the orderlies strapped him to the mattress and walked to the trolley next to his bed, fishing out a pill bottle and placing two of them on the tray. Filling a glass with the water jug on the trolley, he was handed the tray as they watched him with anticipation, silently urging him to take the medication.

Looking at the two yellow tablets on the tray, England knew they were the diuretic pills which had brought him nothing but despair and reproach.

He should refuse to take them.

Or should he?

It was only fair.

He had been the cause of so many lost lives and broken families. It was only proper that he should suffer as retribution.

Reaching out to the pills. England swallowed them without hesitation, much to the pleasure of his guards. Once he finished the glass of water, Michael and Jeremy tied his hands up with the straps as Donelly wheeled the medication trolley out of the room.

Slamming the door behind them with their departure, England was once again left to his own thoughts. Lifting his head up, he was faced with the open display screen, which had red flashing tallies of which he had embarrassed himself by either wetting or orgasming. In companion with the numbers was a photo of himself at the induction ceremony, the photographer having captured the moment when he had lost control of himself and let nature take its course.

Would you be happy?

Staring at the white ceiling of his cage, the nation only had a fervent wish. No matter who it was, the person who had sent him here… Would they be pleased now he was undergoing reform?

I would give anything if a wretch like me could be the forthbringer of joy.

Please… Whoever you are, would you smile for me?


This is quite a long chapter - I have never envisioned it to be so long when I first started typing it up! It is possible to divide this into two chapters but I feel it was better tied up as a single one, not to mention I haven't updated for quite some time already and all of you deserve a real treat for supporting me and this story!

The institution I depicted here has opted for sexual humiliation mainly for the psychological damage it can cause to force submission. Arthur's own history was filled with troubles and strife, and he had risen above all to become a great power. While physical violence hurts, he is not one to admit defeat simply due to being brutalised. However, it is a completely different matter when it comes to his heart, especially when weaponising his feelings towards his family.

Arthur has cared a lot more than his own good, which has become a glaring weakness in the eyes of the asylum, and is exploited until he reaches his breaking point.

Hopefully this does not disappoint - it is pretty dark, but be warned… there are even more to come!