Saturday, August 1, 2015

Miss Amanda's Bitch Boys VII


“Read your file. Mom lets me read anything I want. You’re Luke Donovan... murderer... for hire... lots of killing.”

The precocious Molly... young, blonde and beautiful... and knowing it... wheels the food cart into the windowless mausoleum of super max. Yes, mausoleum, as most of the chamber’s inmates have come to think of it. For no one leaves alive, the sentences so long, the existence so arduous, that few out live the time to be served.

“And now you’re trapped... like a rat... a naked rat. And one that can’t even feed itself.”  

The teen brashly snaps her fingers, pointing downward to the designated area on the cell floor where Leg Breaker Luke knows he must kneel in order to be spoon fed. No supplication to the young girl, no food, that seems to be the rule. There is no method of protest for his treatment, no one to whom he can appeal. Instead there is the threat of being posted. And in observing arsonist Henry be so casually and callously caned, there comes horripilation in recalling the haunting scene.

So the man of size and viciousness indeed kneels, repressing the urge to snarl. 

“You killed with guns,” Molly gathering a large dollop of the tasteless gruel. “Mainly. But there was one you strangled.”

The free left hand reaches through the bars and gathers the slack nostril string. Molly pulls, slowly but steadily, knowing that though huge and powerful, the yoked inmate must follow her guiding hand.

“That’s better. It gets tiring reaching in so many times,” smiling wickedly as a kneeling Luke finds his face forcefully pressed to the bars, nose piercing held high.  

The feeding begins, young mother but no infant or toddler. Instead the grown man must open, lips encircling, tongue gathering. There is no choice, other than slow starvation.

Luke hungrily partakes. The food is surprisingly nutritious, his body feeling a mild burst of energy after every meal. But the fare is not formulated for enjoyment. Instead it is to keep him healthy for many, many years of mental duress. Denied exercise, he has come to realize the individualized bowls contain the exact number of carbohydrates and calories required for an inmate’s lethargic existence... and nothing more. No weight loss... and certainly no weight gain.  

And so he knows to take in every salubrious ounce, despite the lack of taste, despite the ignominy of being spoon fed.

“Did it excite you, the killings?” Molly boldly inquires.

“It was a job. How I made a living.” Luke’s voice without inflection as the empty spoon returns to the bowl.

Then he feels below. The girl’s gripping left hand on the nostril string does not permit him to look downwards. His penis, she is pressing against it, presumably with her leg... her booted leg. There is ulterior motive for her guiding hand. Thighs up against the bars, his genitals are thrust through into the narrow corridor.     

Molly smiles in noting Luke’s realization.

“Yes, in answer to your cynical question, on occasion I like looking at cock. But when it’s nice and hard... and in need... in frustrating need, ha, ha, ha.”

Molly jostles her leg... in a surprisingly adept manner... adept in fostering the reaction of a virile male held in abject chastity. Luke curses himself in sensing his reaction. He feels the twinge, knowing that he will soon be erect... and there is nothing he can do to stop or prevent her frottaging motion.

“Don’t! Stop!”

“I thought you had made an invitation, Luke. Withdrawing it?”

Molly continues, leg vigorously rubbing, left hand assuring immobility, right hand spooning more fare.

“So the strangulation. The report said the woman died slowly. Bare hands used, no ligature marks. Interesting change in your modus operandi, Luke. All the shootings and then comes a strangulation. Run out of bullets? Perhaps you got bored? Needed a change? How did it feel, sensing a life slowly end?”

Luke seethes, her taunting words riling a man normally not to be trifled with, not to anger. But with week after week of chastity, the smooth leather, the steady rhythm, the masterful pressure on the neglected frenum, brings joy. Wanted? Unwanted? The girl, though young, knows the male anatomy, somehow knows she’s kneading the most sensitive portion of a sensitive organ. 

With this realization, as Luke’s anger slowly chills, the emotion transforms to concern. Perhaps fear, but does a man of his ilk ever fear? Still, the precocious girl has power, that cannot be denied. But can it be avoided? Some how diverted to another super max inmate... or perhaps to that hapless prisoner in Cell Block D... to he eating her excrement.

“No reply?” girl Molly further taunts, pulling back her boot, her timing superb in knowing she has brought a froth of need, that climax is eminent.

There comes a moan of disappointment, embarrassing but not to be suppressed. Molly laughs, offering the last spoonful.

“Lesson learned, Luke. I never bring them off. Mother would find it rather inglorious. But I will suggest to Amanda that you need a visit from Jami. He’s always willing to accommodate... always in need of his next meal.”

The empty spoon is stowed. The gripping left hand lowers, forcing Luke to bend at the waist. The pretty face turns stern, the blue eyes twinkle in mischief as Luke’s nostril piercing assures compliance. His face must follow, in bending now able to note the purple tip of his raging erection.

“Yes, now I like looking at your cock... in such dire need. And if you like the feel of my boots, you may lick them. Lots ands lots of slow licks. And when I next visit, you’ll tell me more. More about bringing slow death. It must make one feel quite empowered.”

Molly pauses, her smile transforming to an annoying giggle as Luke finds no alternative but to lick, the gripping hand young, soft yet bringing relentless pain as the penetrating steel ellipse pressures a myriad of olfactory nerves. The long wet appendage thrusts, swirls and thrusts, spawning much laughter.

Task completed, Molly releases, the slack allowing Luke the Leg Breaker to right himself and return to the center of the small cell, turning away to sheepishly veil his hard on.

“And I have some fresh water for you... flavored. You enjoyed my taste the other day.”

With that, Molly reaches to the clear plastic water bottle hanging low on the cell bars. She takes and switches it with an identical bottle from the rolling cart, replacing the phallic drinking tube. Luke notes the liquid within is not clear but instead an ominous yellow.

“Just a diluted mix... for now. But I’ll make it stronger. Got an inmate in Cell Bock C who has come to savor it. Likes it pure... and warm... ha, ha, ha.”

Saturday, July 25, 2015

Miss Amanda's Bitch Boys VI


“Thank you so much for caning me, Miss Amanda,” the voice raspy, the throat well worn.

The faltering words come as Guard Amanda presents her hand. Inmate Henry kisses most fawningly. When he begins to lick, the hand withdraws and a finger taps the nose.

“When you’ve healed, I will have you posted again, Henry. You’re so deserving, are you not?”

“Oh yes, Ma’am. Long canings are best for me.”

The words, offered by rote, still bring a smile. Amanda Contrell turns to Jami, observing in glee.

“Milk him well, Jami. Consider it your lunch. And later I’ll have a dog biscuit for you.”

Caning finally completed... one hour... two?.. Guard Amanda steps away, her words the signal for Jami to take charge. From the cabinet a bowl is tossed to the floor. Jami eagerly slides it under inmate Henry’s belly.

“I’m willing to bet he’s hard and ready to squirt for you, the masochistic worm.”

Jami kneels behind. His right hand gingerly moves to well caned buttocks, working within the crevice which avoided the searing strokes of rattan. The left hand slips under prisoner Henry’s stomach. Luke hears the high girlish voice.

“Oh yes, Miss Amanda. He’s very stiff.”

“Well drain the sick pervert. But don’t stroke him. No pleasure. He’d not appreciate it. Just work his prostate.”

Amanda strolls to rejoin Luke at his cell. The meaty brown hand slips through the bars and grasps Luke’s waiting nostril string.

“When a woman addresses you Luke, it’s proper protocol to approach the bars and stand before her... and I recommend doing so most humbly.”

“Yes Ma’am.” 

“As good as he is at fellatio, Jami’s prostate milkings are even more renowned... and hated by the inmates. But Jami has to eat. And he’ll gather and consume sperm in any manner commanded.”

Luke and Amanda watch, her grip not slackening, as Jami’s right hand works, the digits deeply inserted, knowingly manipulating and priming the odd male gland to be drained. But not by way of ejaculation.

“He’s already beginning to drool. Miss Amanda.”

“Then slow down. No rush. Lots of sperm for you. But no climax for him,” Guard Amanda’s tone one of gloating.

“I understand you met the warden’s daughter Luke,” Amanda continuing to observe, her free hand going to Luke’s chest.

“The warden’s daughter Miss Amanda?” killer Luke chagrined with his new found etiquette, sensing firm fingers toying with his left nipple.

“Molly. She interns here at the prison during the summer... helps with the feedings.”

Ah, the haughtiness is explained by more than teenaged precociousness.

“Oh yes, she’s been feeding me.”

“And more than what the commissary apportions, I’ve been told, ha, ha, ha.”

Word of the girl Molly’s vile retribution has gotten to guard Amanda. A sheepish Luke has no reply. Amanda just peers, seeming to glow with Luke’s enlightenment.

“Don’t be too distraught. She’s trained some miscreant in Cell Block D to eat her turds... and she makes him thank her for the offering. So taunting her, suggesting she likes looking at your privates, comes with a cost. If she demands that you be posted, you’ll be howling more than Henry there. And she’ll watch and get off in doing so. So try not attract her attention. But still, I suspect you’ll be drinking more from her. Nothing to stand in her way... no one to object. After all, this is super max. For the most part you no longer exist, Luke boy. And who’s going to tell the warden that her daughter has certain... shall we say traits. Traits exhibited in dealing with someone who no longer exists...”   

Saturday, July 18, 2015

Miss Amanda's Bitch Boys V

Luke hears the click of a lock and the clang of steel bars. He arises in curiosity, then kneels to drink, the urine of feeding girl Molly lingering in his mouth    

Into view comes the well muscled guard Amanda Contrell. In her hand right hand is the nostril string of an inmate. In her left is a leash leading to the collar of the naked castrate Jami. Behind, yoked and shuffling on knees, the inmate  moves with celerity to minimize painful tension on the string.

“That’s it Luke boy, just pretend you’re sucking on a nice cock,” noting Luke now drinks without protest. 

Amanda laughs and jostles the nostril string continuing her stroll to the dead end of the corridor where serving girl Molly brought attention to the two sturdy posts. Luke notes the emaciated form of the starved Jami carries a length of bamboo. As the shuffling prisoner nears the posts, he sees that indeed they accommodate the ends of the prisoner’s yoke. With the sound of clicks, such are secured in place. Then Guard Amanda releases both nostril string and leash, steps back and snaps her fingers. With that, trusty Jami jumps to action and begins stripping the kneeling inmate. With Jami’s speedy attention, the deed appears to be a regular undertaking.

Luke notes the inmate resists not, allowing himself to be brought to nakedness without word or gesture of resistance.

“We’ll take care of your needs today, Henry. Keep those feet nice and raw,” Guard Amanda smiling as various garments are tossed aside.

A large brown hand reaches to playfully tousle the hair then disappears from sight. There comes the sound of metal doors, a cabinet tucked against the near wall. Amanda returns, a strip of wood in hand, round hole in the middle. Luke watches as the device opens, splitting lengthwise down the middle. The two conjoining strips are handed to Jami.

“A humbler. Keeps a boy immobile and humble indeed,” Amanda calls out noting Luke’s curious look.

An excited Jami reaches between parted thighs, palms the scrotal sac and draws back. He tucks the set of male plums into the hole of the open strips, presses the ends against the back of the thighs right and left then dextrously tightens, closing the strips to hold in place the testicles most tautly.

“Jami so much enjoys handling the glands he so painfully gave up,” Amanda offers with a laugh.

When inmate Henry utters a muffled groan, Amanda smiles in satisfaction, the scrotum conveniently used to further immobilize. It is not the first time she has had Jami place a male into the wooden humbling device, Luke notes. The deed required not more than a minute.

Next, Amanda again disappears. There is more rattling about the cabinet. Then she returns with a metal bar, a circle of nylon at each end no doubt intended to capture a limb. Jami takes the bar, kneels and indeed right ankle and left are secured, forcing the knees well apart.

Jami presents the length of bamboo. Guard Amanda holds it before the well bound prisoner Henry. He kisses it. There comes an evil smile, as she steps to the side and immediately begins the most vicious caning imaginable. Even professional killer Luke Donovan, observing two crisp strokes, hearing one constant howl, closes his eyes in shock.

In completing half a dozen strokes, Amanda pauses, turning to Luke’s cell, grinning most triumphantly. 

“He canes well does he not, Luke boy. So appreciative... and so deserving.”

A free hand lowers to tenderly smooth over amazingly purple welts. The digits feel with pride. And the sobs of the excoriated inmate seem to bring joy.

“Some bastinado, Henry? It’s for the best. Hate to think you’ll ever again walk upright.. like a real man.”

Luke notes that the ankle restraints of the spreader bar also serve to hold the bare feet some two inches above the concrete flooring, making the caning of the feet most facile.

It begins, Luke surprised with the leisurely timing... the ease of each stroke... and the blazing agony such brings. Meanwhile Jami watches with fascination, his look almost one of envy.

Amanda canes the instep. Incredibly sensitive, Luke realizes. And so little effort expended in spawning lung emptying howls of agony. And no one will ever hear, Luke shuddering with the thought. Only Guard Amanda and the inmates of super max. 

Guard Amanda pauses in rest, playfully tapping the well exposed and entrapped testicles, objects not to be ignored by a woman of control and dominance.

“Don’t waste any pity on Henry here, Luke. As an arsonist he’s a failure. But as a masochist... in that he triumphs,” Guard Amanda stepping to Luke’s cell door in respite. “Burned down his own house. Little problem with cash flow to be cured by the insurance company. Used a clever timing device attached to the gas furnace. Very effective... except that his wife and kids arrived home early. Though death benefits were not intended as part of the scheme, the life insurance people tend to do much more thorough investigations into million dollar death claims.

“And then, while awaiting sentencing, in a brazen display of what had before been latent masochism, he began to write thinly disguised threatening letters to the judge and prosecutor. Something about their homes going up in flames as well. Sealed himself in super max as a result. He’s here by his own hand, Luke boy... literally assuring incarceration in the most secure and punishing facility in the Federal system. 

“Been caning him weekly since he arrived. It’s cathartic for him, the miserable wimp. He’s grateful for my attention, though he has a hard time showing it when I turn his skin to the same color as his wife and children. Ha, ah, ha.”

Luke is stunned in silence. Guard Amanda reaches inward palms then jostles the hairless scrotal sac. The moment of physical pleasure brings emotional distress.

“You’ll be posted at some point, Luke. None of my bitches avoids the cane. And you’ll come to appreciate it too. I know boys like you.”

Luke’s shock grows as Guard Amanda returns to the well restrained mass of reddened skin.

She begins again, more applications of rattan to feet already brought to crimson.

Saturday, July 11, 2015

Miss Amanda's Bitch Boys IV

Luke Donovan begins to acclimate. Unlike any other time he’s served, he learns of the sui generous protocols of hard time in super max. First, Guard Amanda Contrell rules... everything... everyone. There is no process of appeal, no layers of administrative bureaucracy. Second, regulations seem to be contrived, made up on a whim. Third, there are no written reports for filing, no record of inmate indiscretion and punishment thereof. Without windows, only the open bars facing the narrow corridor to offer light and a view, there is no night time... no day time... only Guard Amanda Contrell time.

In questioning the super max method for watering, Luke pointing out that proper hydration is a world recognized obligation of all penal institutions, Amanda Contrell quickly rebuked.  

‘There is no outside world, Luke boy. I am your world. Now kneel and suck’

And so for water, Luke kneels and takes the phallic like tube in his mouth. Hands rendered useless, there is no alternative. Why the water bottle hangs so low on the bars somewhat perplexes. Perhaps for easy refilling. But he suspects it is more of Guard Amanda demonstrating her authority... her supreme authority... over the most vicious inmates in the Federal prison system.

Yes, she beams with odd pride in watching her charges... her ‘hamsters’... take refreshment. For attached to the bottom of the quart bottles are rubber tubes, only trickling water when encircling lips and fervent tongue work, essentially needing to be sucked indeed. It’s demeaning, but the cell block can be stifling, and liquids are most welcomed. And not lost on Luke is the size and shape of the tube. Yes, it is definitely phallic.

Luke learns the derivation of Guard Amanda Contrell’s skills in stripping a man. For each morning, presumably it is morning, she strolls the corridor, reaching within the bars to unbuckle the waist bands of the prison uniforms and tugging to the floor. It is then that the inmates can shuffle to use the toilets. Trusty Jami saunters behind, hands free to perform the odorous task of wiping the inmates clean, pulling the trousers back to the waist and buckling. It’s demeaning, being wiped like a child, but wrist restraint is constant, the strong polymer blocks never removed, hands useless at all times. 

Feeding time offers more degradation. A girl, young considering the potential jeopardy of prison, rolls a cart into the cell block. Six bowls of gruel, each apportioned according to the inmate’s size and weight, are pushed within, the solid steel door closing and locking behind her. She’s pretty, Luke finds, named Molly, and though plainly dressed in drab uniform proves to be quite the cocktease for prisoners whose only sexual relief has been the swishing tongue of the sexless Jami.

With Luke’s mandated nakedness continuing, he’s embarrassed. But the girl blushes not. Curious that a girl seeming so youthful shows neither concern nor thrill in tending to a well bound naked male.

But life demands nutrition. And so Leg Breaker Luke humbly kneels as the blonde ingenue Molly spoons from the bowl marked with his prison number. It’s bland fare. Not foul, but on the third feeding, already the monotony of the tastelessness wears.

“You’re a pretty girl,” Luke overcoming bashfulness. “You like looking at my cock?”

“No talking. You’ll be punished,” Molly proving to be brusque.

A second spoonful is presented. In being fed as a child, Luke feels the need to show his resentment. He defies.

“So how you going to punish me, lock me up? Ha, ha, ha.”

“You’ll not be laughing if I inform Amanda. She’ll have you posted. And she may let me watch.”

The girl smiles. Suddenly it dawns on Luke. The smile is wry, so mindful of Guard Amanda’s wicked grin. Luke does not know what it is to be ‘posted’, but he has quickly learned that Guard Amanda Contrell is a woman of determination. It cannot bode well and his verbal transgression brings regret. The realization brings concern. Young Molly... she’s one of them... a budding harridan.

And Molly instantly understands she has turned the tide.

“You see the two stanchions at the end of the corridor? To your left? Just nod, no words,” her voice becoming most stern.

Luke looks. Unnoticed before are two vertical posts, rising some eighteen inches from the concrete floor. He nods in compliance.

“Good. Well you may notice that the distance between is exactly the length of your yoke,” a dainty hand slipping between the bars to tap the polymer block resting on Luke’s shoulders. “When Amanda has a prisoner attached to the posts kneeling, there’s not much she can’t do to one of her bitches. You’ll not want to be posted. But I think I will inform on you. Yes, I’m going to tell her and ask her if I can watch. It is then that I will like looking at your cock, flopping about, kneeling with thighs well spread. Then you’ll be polite, I assure you.”     

Luke the Leg Breaker, serving 19 terms, shudders, his extreme vulnerability distressing. The young girl Molly is pretty, demure, and threatens like gangster. He decides on quiet, not transgressing again with words.

“But perhaps I’ll punish you instead and not tell Amanda. If you agree. It will be simple... and I think you’ll understand better your position... and mine. Do you agree? Nod and I’ll not have you posted.”

Luke looks at the posts, imagining his naked form kneeling, completely exposed to whatever Guard Amanda chooses to inflict, wrists encumbered, hands useless. He gulps. He nods. Molly takes his half full food bowl from the cart. She smiles, placing on the floor. Then she slightly raises her plain brown skirt and squats. A stream of excretion gushes to the bowl, mixing most repulsively with the mush.

Yes, she is one of them, a horrified Luke concludes.

“And now you’ll finish your dinner,” Molly offering a sloppily wet spoonful. “In silence.”

Saturday, July 4, 2015

Miss Amanda's Bitch Boys III

“Feeding time for Jami. Everyone to the bars.”

The stentorian voice of Guard Amanda Contrell calls out. Luke, breaker of legs, watches in both curiosity and awe as his five yoked cohorts instantly rise and indeed present themselves standing at the bars. Luke knows he too must obey, but his nakedness brings bashful delay.

His awe amplifies as he sees Amanda Contrell emerge from the observation room. In her hand is a leash... a dog’s leash... and it is attached to the seamless steel collar of an emaciated young male... Caucasian... naked... and unless Luke’s eyes deceive... without balls!   

“I said to the bars,” the command coming as Guard Amanda notes Luke’s tardiness.

He arises, noting the smirking face of the guard and a look of eagerness on the young male.

“Your choice, Jami. Pick your meal. But not Eddie boy. He’s been a little lax in licking my boots of late.”

With that, Jami strolls down the narrow corridor, a tiny penis flopping about. The yoked inmates all press their pubes’s, zippers aligned to open slots between the bars. Jami pauses before inmate one and two, finally stepping to Julie, standing opposite. The naked form of some 100 pounds eagerly kneels. Free hands work the zipper. Guard Amanda girlishly giggles as a huge black cock springs forth. Jami reaches inward, gently cupping the impressive scrotum and immediately engulfing a rapidly swelling manhood. Luke is shocked with both the alacrity and the oral capacity of an otherwise physically limited being.

“Yes, you are hungry today, Jami. Picked the biggest happy meal in the cell block.”

Luke finds both fascination and distress, watching the head bob and thrust. He notes Julie’s look of ecstasy, vicariously feeling the pursing lips and swishing tongue. He notes the eagerness. He notes there is no coercion... not on the part of Jami... not on the part of Julie. It disgusts, his homophobia frothing.

“Someday maybe for you, Luke boy. Jami gets his three meals per day, prison regulations... ha, ha, ha.”    

“You can’t do this!” a flustered Luke protests.

Guard Amanda, leaving much slack on the leash, turns as the oral coupling continues.

“You see any windows, Luke boy? Any telephones? Any method of communicating with the outside world? What happens in super max happens... and it stays here and only here. When Julie completes his sentence, if he completes his sentence, no one will ever know a good part of his hard time was spent feeding my little white boy. And see how much Jami enjoys himself? The transformation is intriguing, castrating a boy. He once molested children, demanding fellatio from young girls and boys. And now look! Seems he’s now the best cocksucker in the prison.... ha, ha, ha.”

There comes a gasp of delight, Julie evidently exploding as Luke notes how deeply is the penetration. There is no doubt the effluent gushed directly into the cocksucker’s gullet.

“Be sure to lick him clean now Jami,” the admonishment coming as Jami’s face slowly withdraws.

Luke notes the attentiveness, the tongue dancing and dabbing. Julie indeed well cleansed.

“Took a while to condition him. But incising the balls makes a boy malleable. Plus starvation. Unless Jami sucks cock he doesn’t receive protein... and he doesn’t get his dog biscuit.”

With that, a dog biscuit is indeed tossed to the concrete floor. Jami crawls and picks it up in his mouth, chewing ravenously.

“That’s his ration... sperm and a dog biscuit. But no sperm, no dog biscuit. So he’s always ready to suck a good cock. Keeps him nice and lean, wouldn’t you say Luke boy?”

“You’re starving him!”

“Yes, but so judiciously. Every time I think about his young victims, I want to refuse him his biscuit.”

Luke hears crunching as the biscuit is rapidly consumed. Guard Amanda smiling pridefully.

“Child molesters normally don’t do well in prison, Luke boy. But once the ultimate price is paid, the inmates become more tolerant. Plus a good blow job is always appreciated. No perceived homosexuality in receiving, Luke boy, not in prison. And in super max, where masturbation is not tolerated, a good set of  warm wet lips is much cherished. Isn’t that right Julie boy?”

“Oh, yes Ma’am, Miss Amanda. I very much enjoy feeding Jami. He deserves lots and lots of spunk.”

“Jami, I think you’re getting a little fat,” a hand reaching to pinch the naked buttocks, small and little girlish.

Luke knows the observation to be sarcastic, the convicted molester sporting not an ounce of excess weight.

“Think I’ll cut down on your biscuits. More sperm instead. Keep you nice and lean.” 

Biscuit consumed, Jami crawls to confront Luke’s nakedness, his genitals pressing through the bars, enticing for the sucker of cocks. A tongue thrusts forth in invitation. Luke is shocked with the length and breadth.

“May I taste him Miss Amanda?” the voice high pitched, the hormonal change evident.

Guard Amanda looks to Luke, a twinkle in her eye. She notes that the penis somewhat swells... a latent reaction in standing naked before a fully clothed woman? Perhaps deep within the expressions of homophobia are a subterfuge? Or is there a somatic reaction to watching another male receive such ecstatic joy?

For Amanda, it matters not.

“Get him up for me, Jami... but don’t get him off. You’ve had your lunch.”

Jami pushes his face to the bars. Luke steps back, but Guard Amanda knowingly grabs the string of his nose binding, pulling threateningly.  

“Don’t bother being shy. You gave yourself away with your last erection. You’re one of those, Luke. And Jami is most cautious. Unless I tell him to bring you off, you’ll not ejaculate. He knows where you are in the cycle. After all, fellatio is how he spends most of his day, sucking and sucking.”

Saturday, June 27, 2015

Miss Amanda's Bitch Boys II


“I’d tell you not to be embarrassed, that many inmates under Feminine control react similarly. But I don’t think you’d find comfort in that... me pointing out that your erection tells a secret.”

Luke Donovan’s shocking introduction to super max continues. He must admit to himself, his antagonist says what she does and does what she says. She has indeed left him restrained, naked and on toes... for over an hour. And he curses his reaction, feeling his penis throb. Though he cannot see below, nose ring tied high, plastic yoke impeding his peripheral vision, Guard Amanda Contrell confirms what he has feared. He is stiff.

“Let me down!”

“Tired? So soon? A big strong boy like you? You’re not in a position to make demands here, Luke boy. You make requests... humble requests. Keep in mind, all comes from me... and the other guards... and it may not come at all. At times we can be rather capricious... sometimes forgetting feeding time. And water as well. Had one inmate trained to drink from his toilet. The more verbal abuse offered, the less likely he was to obtain his ration of fresh water. So he found that by kneeling and placing his yoke on the toilet seat, his tongue was just able to lap up some vital liquid. He got so good at it that I stopped his supply altogether. Good tongue exercise for him.”

Highlighting the ignominy, the tip of an index finger gently diddles the underside of Luke Donovan’s upstanding manhood. The turgid strip of flesh waggles about in response.

“Why not suck it, bitch.”

“Tsk, tsk. Such naughty talk. But if you want it sucked, I can have you accommodated. There’s a trusty in the observation room right now. No yoke. Free to move about... except when I need a chair. Then I sit on Jami. He adores erections, no longer able to achieve one himself.”

The diddling continues, the touch teasing and evanescent. Looking into the woman’s smiling face, Luke Donovan, killer of men, recognizes evil. It is familiar. How often has he seen that look as a prospective employer offered to exchange cash for murder... when, in receiving due payment, he described the violent death of a rival.

Noting that there is no offer for emancipation, the subject matter straying to the bizarre protocol for super max discipline, Luke takes stock. The woman is irritating, relentless, aloof to male needs... and in charge.

This is a game, he tells himself. One which he cannot win, only strive for a draw. One of compliance. And he not only must learn the rules, but he must play. No play... no food. No play... no water. No play... no clothing. But most importantly right now, no play no liberty from the bars! 

“May I be released?” the voice forced to meekness as Luke feels his legs quaver.

“No, not like that Luke boy. It’s ‘may I be released please Miss Amanda’”, the tone light and jovial.

Yes, a game. One in his former world of male brawn, bodily mayhem and death, in which he would refuse to engage. As he hears laughter from the adjoining cells... no one having laughed at him since elementary school... he senses rage. Despite the equally nefarious backgrounds of his super max cell mates, given the opportunity he’d bring vengeful injury.

But how? Wrists encumbered, his hands are useless, not even able to scratch his nose much less wreak havoc on those who mock. Then for the first time the inmate in the opposing cell across the narrow corridor arises from his low bunk. Tall, muscular, skin deeper than that of Amanda Contrell, he is also yoked, a thin string leading from an identical nose ring to the cells bars where it is teasingly tied off in a loose knot... ironically easily released... for those with mobile hands.  

“Put him in panties, Miss Amanda,” the voice deep, the accent of the rural south. “Pink for that boy!”

“You enjoy panties, don’t you, Julie. Been a while for you. Quiet or I’ll have you back in them,” Guard Amanda momentarily turning away.  

“We’ve found that putting the big brawny inmates in frilly silk panties calms them. Would that serve to calm you, Luke boy?” turning back, her finger continuing to graze, the penis throbbing in delight.

Finally the tall guard steps back, Luke oddly disappointed that the faint pleasure of a sole digit is withdrawn.

“No covering. It appears that nakedness is best for you.”

With that, Guard Amanda folds her arms, letting the slow torment continue. Finally come the expected words, the capitulation inevitable... as well she knows.

“May I be released please, Miss Amanda?”

Amanda pauses, smirking. Finally she steps forth. Thumb and index finger pull on the loose end of the knotted string. It instantly goes slack. Luke offers a notable sigh of relief as the looseness permits him to go to his knees. Amanda reties, the string now offering movement throughout the tiny cell.

“I’ll keep your clothing. I think for now it’s best that you go naked, Luke boy,” Amanda stepping to the bars of the opposing cell as she speaks. “And you’ll come to understand that deep within, you enjoy. Erections don’t lie.”

Greeted by she in charge, a pleasantly surprised Julie instantly falls to his knees. Through the bars it is now his string captured in the hand of Guard Amanda. As she guides the nose ring lower, head, yoke, arms and chest follow. Luke is shocked when the face of the black prisoner greets the guard’s right boot and he begins to lick... in earnest... in genuine joy... in gratitude? 

“Enjoy looking at your newbie friend, Julie? He has a nice penis, for a white boy. But don’t upset him, Julie. He first has much to learn.”

“Yes, Miss Amanda.”

The innuendo of homosexuality alerts. Luke the Leg Breaker senses a brisance... of fear?

Friday, June 26, 2015

'The Party Boy' released

My latest effort for Pink Flamingo/Erotic Book Network has been released.

'The Party Boy'. http://eroticbooknetwork.com/paperbacks/the-party-boy.html

Female Dominant/male submissive, lots of humiliation and subtle feminine control. Light on corporal but unending CFNM, chastity and denial.

Enjoy,

CB