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.”

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