Note 1: This story is fictional. In real life, doing this to someone without his consent would, of course, be wrong.
Note 2: Your feedback is welcome, but don't jump to any conclusions about the author based on the content of this story. And I mean ANY conclusions.
The Huntsville Honey
Part 1 - Billy
"Hey, Billlleeeeee...." his cellmate kept repeating in a singsongy voice. "I got something for you, come here and take a look!" Billy tried to ignore the older man's pestering. The last time he'd looked, he'd regretted it.
He preferred "Bill", but no one ever called him that, and he'd given up insisting long ago. There was just something about him that made others want to call him Billy. Or worse, Billyboy. Ugh, how he hated that! He was a twenty-two year old man, not a little boy.
It was Billy's first day in prison and he was terrified. Raymond, his cellmate, delighted in making lewd comments and taunting him mercilessly about his obvious discomfort. He wasn't too afraid of Raymond, but he hated being constantly reminded of that other thing, the nagging fear in the back of his mind. That thing he knew happened to young men like him in prison, and which he suspected was inevitable.
Billy knew his looks made him especially vulnerable in a place like this. He'd always hated the way he looked. He wished he looked older, rougher. No, his was the kind of face that little old ladies were forever pinching with their bony fingers. He had baby-blue eyes and rust-colored hair, impossibly long dark lashes that young women envied--a former girlfriend had once mortified him by exclaiming loudly in homeroom, "God, you're so cute, I wish I looked like you!"--and a youthful poutiness that drove older women crazy. He was a prettyboy, he always had been, and now he was in the worst possible place a prettyboy could be.
That evening when he entered the large dining hall, he couldn't help noticing the effect he had on many of the other prisoners. As he passed by, all too often they would cease their raucous behavior and leer at him in silence. One man actually dropped the fork he was eating with, and as Billy walked past he heard the man chuckle ominously and then growl, "Oh, yeah." Those two words chilled him to the bone. He tried to blend into the crowd as he filled his tray but every time he looked up there was someone staring at him. He hunched over his food and ate hurriedly.
A couple of guys invited him to join them in the rec center where inmates could watch TV, eat overpriced snacks purchased with work detail money, or play ping-pong, all under the watchful eye of numerous armed guards. They smiled a little too eagerly. Billy declined, instead opting for the relative seclusion of his cell.
When he arrived, the door was blocked by a cluster of four prisoners and a guard who were standing in the hall and seemed to be having a hushed conversation. Billy tried to worm his way past them without being noticed, but it was useless; it was almost as if they'd been waiting for him.
"Yo, hold up," one of them said, halting Billy's progress by grabbing his upper arm. Billy recognized the man who'd dropped the fork earlier. The man, whom the others called Hank, was pushing forty with thick brown hair and a distinctive evil grin. He was also very large and tough-looking. Billy was fit and strong, but he knew there was no way he could take this guy. Hank was much heavier than him and at least six inches taller.
"Why didn'tcha say hi? That's rude, just walking by a group of people and not even saying a word," Hank rebuked him. Billy said nothing. Hank looked at the others. "I think this kid's very rude, don't you?" They all agreed, including the guard.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude," Billy muttered. In haste he turned to leave, but Hank tightened his grip on his arm.
"Whyn'tcha make it up to us? You could invite us in for a little chat. Get to know each other." Billy felt his heart sink. This didn't sound good. He tried to protest as the five men herded him into the cell, but no words came out. The sound of the cell door clanging shut made his stomach lurch.
Part 2 - Hank
In twenty years he'd seen thousands of men come and go, many of them even younger than this one, many of them pumped up and buff, but none had ever blown Hank's mind like this one. There was just something about him. As soon as he laid eyes on Billyboy he knew he had to have him. And now he was standing inches away from the boy. So close.
He could tell the boy was scared. That was good. He liked it like that. Fear was _s_e_x_y: eyes wide, lips parted, blood pounding in the veins. Hank crowded Billy up against the wall and the others followed his lead.
Hank lectured Billy on the importance of good manners, all the while drinking in the sight of the beautiful, frightened youth. The face was good, very good. But he wanted a closer look at the body. He continued lecturing as he tugged down on the zipper at the front of the orange jumpsuit. When the boy protested, eight meaty hands shot out, gripping his arms and clamping over his mouth. The boy's eyes bugged out, reminding Hank of a horse he'd once seen crazed with fear. Billy's struggles excited him.
Slowly he peeled down the ugly orange suit to reveal something much more attractive. A lean, sculpted body with creamy white skin and just a light dusting of hair. Firm, flat pecs topped with small rosy nipples that begged to be pinched, good and hard. Well-defined stomach muscles drew the eye downward. The genitalia were nicely formed, although not exactly in top form at the moment. Rounded thighs made him think of chicken, tender and juicy. "_d_a_m_n_, you're so _f_u_c_k_in' pretty!" Hank exclaimed earnestly, unaccustomed to feeling so enslaved by his own urges. He was helpless to stop himself.
With a catch in his throat Hank ordered his buddies to haul Billy over the side of the bunk. As they did so, Billy began to struggle with renewed fervor. The guard, Ron, lost his grip on Billy's jaw. Billy jumped at the opportunity to bite Ron's hand and scream bloody murder. Hank didn't blink. This was hardly unexpected. He merely pulled the red bandanna from around his head, wadded it up, and stuffed it in the kid's mouth.
A second later, Hank was staring down at what had to be the _s_e_x_iest ass he'd ever seen. Two rounded hills of muscle, so white they nearly gleamed. Narrow and tight, yet at the same time those buns seemed to stick out a mile, rising up to assault his eyes with their beauty. Crack deep and dark and intensely vulnerable. Hank paused for a moment, dumbfounded. When he couldn't stand it any longer, he reached under his pant leg and produced a long, thin slat of wood.
"What's the matter with you, boy?" he remonstrated. It was impossible to choke back the lust in his voice. "Biting Ron's hand. You oughtta be ashamed of yourself, Billyboy. If I'm gonna be your daddy, I'm gonna have to teach you some manners." As he said "manners," Hank roughly slapped Billy's ass. It felt so good, not too hard or too soft, just the perfect amount of give. An ass you could really sink your teeth into. More gently, he caressed and kneaded the white flesh. As he watched Billy cringe and hide his face, Hank felt a thrill of power and pity and lust rush through him all at once. He suppressed a moan. He almost forgot the others were there until Jody, a burly biker, whispered hotly, "Give it to him, man!"
Hank would eventually give "it" to Billy, he knew, but first he would have to discipline the boy. Oh, yes, this was definitely an ass that needed to be disciplined: frequently, with a great deal of persistence and vigor. And Hank knew he was just the man to do it. He didn't know why, but when he looked down and saw Billy's adorable rump sticking up in the air, he just knew that before he did anything else, he would have to whup it good and hard, for a very long time. Hank raised the wooden slat high in the air.
Billy didn't see it coming. When the blow landed, his muffled cry sounded so surprised it made Hank and his buddies laugh. "Oh-ho, that's right Billyboy, Daddy's gonna start by giving you a good spankin'! A real GOOD... HARD... SPANKIN'... on your _f_u_c_k_in' _s_e_x_Y... HOT... little ASS!" Once he started, Hank slowly picked up speed. It was mesmerizing, watching those firm buns bounce under the makeshift paddle again and again. His palm vibrated with each impact. Each time his arm plunged downward it was like a thrust, each startling crack of wood against flesh like a penetration, Billy's struggles and cries mimicking the throes of orgasm. Spanking mirroring rape. The thought of people doing this to their kids popped unbidden into his mind, causing a brief moment of disgust, but he brushed it away. He was enjoying the task of breaking in this _s_e_x_y little pup too much to be distracted for long. As his buddies cheered him on, Hank began subtly, unconsciously, to grind his hips.
"Harder!" someone yelled. Hank obliged, putting all his might into the task. A muffled scream could be heard rising from Billy's throat, impeded by his crude gag. Billy kicked and squirmed. Hank grew more aroused. He paused for a moment to feel Billy's smooth skin. It was a nice dark shade of pink now, and toasty warm to the touch. But not nearly warm enough. Hank wanted it hot. For whatever reason, all he could think of was making that bottom redder and hotter, as if he were cooking it with the thin slat of wood. Searing it to perfection.
"I'm gonna make your ass so hot," he muttered. "Hotter... and hotter...and hotter!" The words escaped through gritted teeth like a sadistic mantra. He forgot about the others in the room and concentrated wholly on Billy's bobbing rump. All he wanted was to make Billy yelp and writhe, make his hips twitch frantically. The task consumed him completely.
Billy was crying. Hank could hear him sobbing into his gag. "Poor little Billyboy," he growled lasciviously. "Daddy's SPANKING him... VERY... VERY... HARD... and it HURTS... DOESN'T it, Billyboy? OH... YES... it BURNS, doesn't it? It's SO... HOT... like you been SITTIN' on a FRYIN' pan... oh, yeah... Daddy's so MEAN, isn't he? MEAN... MEAN... MEAN..."
A few minutes later Hank collected himself and remembered he was not alone with Billy. He mopped his brow. "You guys go on," he commanded as he caught his breath. He'd really exerted himself. The other guys grumbled, but didn't seem terribly surprised. The plan had been for all five of them to have a go at Billy, but Hank no longer wanted to share. "I want to spend some time alone with my friend here," Hank said. He wanted Billy all to himself.
Hank sat down on the edge of the low bunk and pulled the nearly naked Billy over his lap. Billy's jumpsuit was still bunched up around his ankles. He was crying too hard to put up much of a fight. Hank looked down and savored the sight of the deliciously punished ass, blazing red, heat seeming to radiate from it to warm the otherwise drafty cell. Hank began a series of hand spanks. When Billy protested, Hank shushed him. He didn't know why he shushed Billy when he so clearly enjoyed the sound of the younger man's cries--it just seemed like the thing to do. When Billy managed to spit out the gag, Hank said nothing, but just kept spanking him and telling him what happened to naughty boys who were rude to their daddies.
Billy tried to move his hand back to protect his blistered backside. Hank grabbed his wrist and held it tightly against his back with one hand, spanking Billy with the other. Billy jerked slightly with each slap. Now it was flesh against flesh, thigh against thigh, even more personal and intimate than before. Hank was so horny he thought he would burst. He kept slapping for as long as he could stand it, watching his whitish handprints appear briefly against reddened flesh before fading. He couldn't remember when someone had driven him this crazy before. Maybe once, way back, when he was sixteen or seventeen, fumbling with some schoolgirl tease. Maybe not even then. _d_a_m_n_, this boy was fine.
Finally Billy stopped twitching and just went limp. A tiny puddle of tears had collected on the concrete floor beneath his face. Hank stood him up and held him tightly by the sides of his face. He moved in close and spoke to Billy almost in a whisper.
"It's not so bad," he said, a trace of something almost resembling compassion in his voice. "You're my boy now. Nobody in this place is gonna lay a finger on you. You're safe with me. Just stick with me, do what I tell you and you'll get out of here in one piece. Understand?"
Billy sniffled and nodded, staring down at the floor.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you, kid," Hank scolded. Slowly Billy raised his eyes.
"You gonna be a good boy for me now?" Hank asked. Billy hesitated for a fraction of a second, during which a bloodcurdling scream rang out from some distant cell, before nodding obediently.
Hank smiled approvingly and gave Billy a paternal pat on the back of the head. "Good, 'cause you know I'd just hate to have to spank you again." With an evil gleam in his eye Hank sucked on his index finger and got it good and wet. The gesture was lost on his young friend. But not for long.