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?