Making A Bitch - Part 1

Author: Silas

Selling drugs was a stupid thing to do.  That point was driven home for me when the judge sentenced me to a year in prison, no parole.  Just like that, everything I had was gone.  After the jury found me guilty, we had a thirty minute  recess.  It was more than enough time for my fiancé to tell me she never wanted to see me again.  My boss at the newspaper had been there to offer his support.  When I was convicted, he wished me well but told me not to expect a job waiting when I got out.
The judge rapped his gavel and a guard in a snug tan uniform came over and snapped handcuffs around my wrists.  I followed him out of the courtroom without a word.  He put me in a small cell with gray iron bars and I sat there alone, my hands still secured behind my back.  The enormity of my mistake washed over me and I cried silently.  The guard’s footsteps were loud as he came back down the hall and I stifled the tears.  If he noticed the wet streaks on my face he didn’t say anything.  For that I was grateful.
I was led out of the cell and loaded into a prison bus with several others who had been convicted.  When I was seated, a different guard shackled my ankles and chained both my hands and feet to the floor.  The chain was long enough so that I could hold my hands in my lap.  After awhile, someone started the bus and drove onto the highway.  I knew that the DC prison was in Lorton and I figured it would take forty-five minutes to get there.  I hadn’t counted on rush hour traffic.  It was nearly two hours by the time we arrived.
Halfway through the ride I abruptly noticed that I was the only white guy on the bus.  I figured the prison would be similar.  I looked around some more.  Six other guys — two Hispanic, the rest black.  I was good-sized,  about six-foot-one and two hundred firm pounds.  I was suddenly glad I’d spent so much time in the gym.  If things got rough, I’d be strong enough to handle it.  One of the black guys dwarfed me.  I could see his massive shoulders as he slouched against the window asleep.  I made a note to stay on his good side.
When we arrived at the prison, my fellow inmates and I made a line on an asphalt area.  Everything was surrounded by tall fences topped with barbed wire and uniformed men carrying rifles.  An involuntary shiver went down my back.  Someone who seemed to be in charge yelled some things at us, though I would be hard pressed to remember what he said, then we were marched inside.  We went down a long corridor, through another door and into a shower room.  Two men were standing in the far corner near yet another door.  One had on a prison guard uniform, the other an inmate uniform.  The prison guard was tall and well built.  He had a buzz haircut and his skin was pale, as if he never got out in the sun.  Those of us who’d gotten off the bus stood in another line as they talked and pointed.  Finally, they stopped talking and one of the prison guard came over.
“You,” he snapped, pointing at me.  “Let’s go.”
I hesitated.  The alarm bells in my head were clamoring.  I knew that leaving the group wasn’t a good idea.  The other guards snickering only made it worse.
“Now maggot,” the guard shouted.  I didn’t have a choice so I followed him.  He walked fast and I had a difficult time keeping up with my hands and feet shackled.  We went through some doors down some stairs and through some bars.  His uniform fit snugly over the thick muscles covering his body.  The inmate stayed with us.  His skin was a light brown and he was short and slim.  Every few strides he’d glance back and leer at me.
The three of us entered another shower room and the guard tossed the inmate a key.
“Unlock him,” he growled.  The guy quickly undid the cuffs.  I was rubbing my wrists when the guard spoke again.  “Strip,” he said.
I hesitated again, and the guard grabbed me by the shirt and shoved me against the wall.  His breath was hot on my face and smelled of onions and garlic.
“Listen you piece of shit,” he snarled.  “When I tell you to do something, you do it right goddamn now or so help me I’ll break every bone in your body.”
“Yes sir,” I said.  As quickly as I could, I removed my clothing and set it on a pile.  I stood naked facing the two men.  The inmate snickered and I knew why.  The fear and tension of being in prison had shriveled my penis.  It was barely visible through my dark thatch of pubic hair.
“Turn around,” the guard said.  I did.  After perhaps a minute, he told me to turn around again.  He ordered me into the shower and I scrubbed myself clean as the two men watched.  I came out and stood dripping on the concrete floor.  The cool air instantly chilled me and goose bumps popped out all over my body.
“Cavity search,” the guard said.
“What?” I said.
“Come over here,” he said gesturing at a table.
In spite of the early threat, I hesitated.  Swiftly, he smacked me on the thigh with his night stick.  I screamed and a fiery red welt popped up almost instantaneously.  Just as quickly I realized he hadn’t hit me full force.  I moved fast to the table and stood next to it.  He grabbed the back of my neck and pushed me face first onto it.  The inmate with him slapped cuffs on my wrists then cuffed them to the legs of the table.  Then he came around and cuffed my ankles the same.  I was spread out and locked down bent over the table and there was nothing I could do about it.
I heard noises behind me, but was unable to turn far enough to see what they were doing.  A hand touched my ass and brusquely opened my cheeks.  I felt pressure against my anus and then a lubricated finger poked through.  It pushed hard into me and withdrew.  Something larger penetrated and I realized it was two fingers.  The sensation wasn’t pain exactly, but I didn’t like it.  I’d never had anything up my ass before.
“Stop,” I said.
“Shut up,” the guard said.
“Tight?” the inmate said.
“Yup,” the guard said.
He pulled his fingers out and then I felt more pressure.  Something larger again.  Three fingers?  It had started to hurt now and I gasped audibly.  The guard pumped them in and out slowly and I felt every inch of his fingers.  They felt like they were ten inches long.  He pulled them out and momentarily the pressure returned.  It was too much.  I thrashed about on the table and shrieked again and again.  The pain was beyond anything I’d ever felt.  The object being shoved into my ass rotated and I was suddenly aware of it’s size.  I felt sure it was his hand.
“No,” I gasped.  “Please stop.”
The pressure increased and I could feel my sphincter opening and stretching around his hand.  He grunted from the exertion and pushed even harder.  High pitched screams were coming from my throat and I fought desperately to break free.  The chains held firm.  I thought the pain could get no worse but somehow it did.  Every muscle in my body flexed as I tried to resist.
Suddenly, just at the point where I was sure I could take no more, the pain subsided a bit and was replaced with an oddly full sensation.  It still hurt, but I could feel the guard’s fist deep in my ass and I could feel my sphincter wrapped around his wrist.  He began moving his hand inside me and slowly the tension eased from my muscles.  The sensation was unlike any I’d ever experienced.  I felt a fluttering in my bowels and in spite of it all a stirring in my groin.  I was glad to be down on the table so that no one could see my arousal.
I felt a different kind of pressure as the guard began withdraw his hand.  I squirmed and cried out as the pain began anew.  Suddenly, his hand slid out and the acute pain died.  It was replaced by a strong aching sensation and an oddly loose and empty feeling in my asshole.
“No contraband,” the guard said with an audible smirk.  “Tight little asshole for such a big guy.  The boys will enjoy it.”  The guard and the inmate shared a laugh.  Like everyone, I’d heard stories about prison rapes.  I was determined to not let that happen to me.
Behind me, I heard rustling clothes and the sound of a zipper being undone.  I craned my head around but couldn’t see anything.  I was helpless and growing frantic at the idea of being fucked while chained down.  I heard a different sound, familiar to me, but seemingly out of place.  Slowly, I recognized it.  I hunched up on my elbows and peeked back under my arms.  I could only hold the position for a moment, but it was long enough to see the inmate on his knees giving an expert blow job to the prison guard.  I heard some gasping and slurping sounds and then the zipper again.
“Unlock him,” the guard said.  The inmate undid my feet, then came around and released my hands.  A drop of the guard’s cum was on his cheek.  I shuddered involuntarily.  My hands were cuffed behind my back and the guard led me from the room.  I had no idea where we were going.  Probably to get my prison uniform.
We passed through a door and were buzzed through a set of bars.  I suddenly realized that we were in the main prison.  The cells rose up on all four sides, ten floors in all.  The center was essentially a large open area made of cement.  Everything was painted gray.  Each floor had a narrow walkway that wrapped all the way around.  The shouts and catcalls cascaded down from above.
“Hey baby,” one guy shouted.  “Bring your pretty white ass up here and I’ll show you what a real man’s like.”
“Damn,” another called.  “Look at the fat round ass.”
My face was flushed with anger and embarrassment.  My fiancé had always liked that I had a firm rounded bubble butt, but I’d been teased about it since junior high school.  I didn’t appreciate showing it to the entire prison population my first day in prison.  I followed the guard up three flights of stairs and down a long corridor.  Inmates reached out between the bars and grabbed at me.  I walked close to the edge, my hip bumping against the railing and they couldn’t reach me.  The catcalls and shouting didn’t stop.  We reached a corner cell and the guard stopped.
“Open three-six-zero,” he shouted.  There was a buzzing sound and the cell door opened.  “Inside,” he said to me.  I moved swiftly into the empty cell — I didn’t want another swat with the night stick.  “Close it,” the guard shouted and the door slammed shut behind me.  I turned around and looked at him.  “Turn around,” the guard snapped.  “Stick your hands out between the bars.”  I did so and he unlocked the cuffs.  I was now free inside the cell.  The guard started to walk away.
“Wait,” I said.  He stopped and looked back.  “Where are my clothes?” I said.  “Which one is my bed?”
He laughed softly to himself.  “We’re not going to waste the money to put clothes on you,” he said.  My stomach jumped and I felt queasy.  “Bed?  If you’re smart you’ll stay on the floor.  If not…” he shrugged.  “Top bunk on the left doesn’t have an occupant.”
He turned and walked off without another word.  I watched him go with an ever increasing feeling of dread.  Something bad was about to happen, but I didn’t know what.  I climbed up onto the top bunk and lay down on the thin mattress.  I wished for a blanket or sheet, but I didn’t have one.  I curled up and in a few minutes drifted off to sleep.

-- more to come --