WARNINGThis contains graphic descriptions of _s_e_x_ual intercourse and sadomasochistic activities between adult males. If this offends you, is not appropriate for viewing in your location, or you are notof legal age, don't read it.
Any resemblance of characters in this story to the living is purely coincidental.
(c) 1997, TopLegal. Permission is granted for distribution via Usenet and the Web in full.
These are the recollections of my time working with my boyfriend John at a state reform boot camp for prisoners.
The phone rang at 0448, an escapee, the camp was at lockdown, prisoners were to be kept on their beds and one guard from each wing was to assist with the search.
I shook John gently and he woke up. After I explained the situation to him, he offered to search if I would stay. I shook my head and pointed out that I would be dressed and out the door faster than him. He staggered awake and slammed his head on the ceiling and then laid back down.
I showered and shaved quickly and then got into my uniform, and headed out into the cold morning air to find Watkins from A-Wing. The search was less than orderly and I bumped into Michael who was one of the guards from A-Wing. I decided to go with him down towards the south end of camp and the obstacle course. As we headed that way at a moderate pace, he explained that even if they caught Watkins he and Brian were sure to get a few lashes from the warden in private. I asked how Watkins escaped and he explained that the kid managed to get out through a hole he had cut in the wooden floor and then just crawled out from under the wings which were built on cement stilts.
As we reached the obstacle course I noticed a small figure in the distance trying to scale the fence. "WATKINS," I shouted.
The figure turned and then tried to scale the fence faster. The top was electrified and had barbed wire, I didn't see how the kid was going to make it.
We ran towards the fence and with my baton I was able to grab his leg. "Don't make this worse for yourself Watkins," Michael exclaimed.
"_f_u_c_k_ man," Watkins cursed as he kept struggling towards the top of the fence. With some more effort we managed to pull him down without knocking him flat onto his back and cracking his skull open. The kid kept cursing at us and Michael went to start beating him with a baton, but I stopped him and pointed out that Watkins would be getting plenty of Tender Loving Care in solitary for two weeks. Michael kicked Watkins and said, "Don't think this is over, you've caused me a lot of trouble." Michael then wandered off to announce our find, and I took Watkins in cuffs to the solitary building.
While there, I stopped in on Greenberg. On his body, a second set of lash marks was visible that were fresher and somewhat more severe than the others. "You ok man," I asked.
"What do you think _f_u_c_k_er," he said.
I slapped him violently across the face and said, "you have four answers prisoner, use one of them."
"Sorry, sir," he answered followed by, "No, Sir."
"They treating you too rough," I asked.
"Yes sir," he said.
"I'll talk to them, but you know for drugs you could end up back in prison for 10 to 20 years given the quantity you had, so I suggest you not complain too much about the discipline you are getting here," I said.
He didn't respond but just curled up in a fetal position on the small mat. I left and mentioned to the guards that Watkins needed more attention than Greenberg, they smiled and nodded at me. Then I headed back to L-Wing.
It was already 0700 and John had bent the rules slightly because the prisoners beds were made and all were in uniform and doing exercises inside the Wing. I suppose it was better that way since it kept them occupied.
John came over and explained that inspection was finished and told me how Brown and Powell had earned themselves bare assed paddlings in front of their fellow prisoners for not making their beds properly. I smiled at him and then explained how we found Watkins.
The prisoners lined up and we headed to the mess hall for morning breakfast. John stood over them today slapping them liberally for reaching across the table and other things. I went and sat down at the guard's table, Brian was there and said that Michael and he had already been strapped 50 times by the warden. The other guards seemed unsympathetic having all been roused before dawn to search for someone he should have been guarding. I mostly agreed with that sentiment, but I still felt sorry for them. Both Brian and Michael were midway through their first round here at camp and I could imagine John and myslef in the same situation.
The prisoners in L-Wing were marched to the classroom building for 3 hours of instruction in reading and basic math. John and I left them in the capable hands and even more painful tawses of the instructors.
John and I headed back to our quarters to catch a bit more sleep. Once in a while John or I would stay and observe the classes. Typically the kids were barely able to read or do math. The instructors worked with each prisoner for about 30 minutes, 15 on reading and 15 on math. The rest of the time the prisoners were expected to do assignments and study. Prisoners who talked back got violent slaps of the tawse on their arms. Prisoners who didn't do an assignment were punished similarly.
Most kids left the camp at least functionally literate if not close to the eighth grade level. The strict discipline clearly had some effect on their willingness to sit still and learn.
I remember that particular classroom instruction period rather clearly because John caught me masturbating. What happened was that I headed back to our quarters and shut the door while he went to familiarize himself with the camp layout. After laying on my back for a few minutes, I realized how horny I felt and pulled my _c_o_c_k_ out of my uniform pants and began stroking my man tool as I lay on the bed thinking about my commander in the Army.
As I thought of all the hot desert nights when we pressed our bodies against one another and _f_u_c_k_ed and sucked, I got more and more aroused. Suddenly, John came into the room without warning and caught me with my hand wrapped firmly around my manhood.
"Horny aren't you," he said matter of factly.
I blushed somewhat and said, "yes." I then started to put my _c_o_c_k_ away, but John stopped me.
"Don't bother putting it away on my account, you seemed to be enjoying yourself, besides, I was a prick last night about the privacy thing, we are on top of each other in here, if you need to masturbate, go to it," he said.
"Nah," I said, "I can save it till my evening out."
John snorted and then laughed heartily. Finally he spoke, "where do you think you will go on your nights out?"
"City man, the bars, just like leave in the service," I said.
"You are naive, we are two hours from everything not counting the trudge to your car, ask the other guards, on the nights out maybe they hit the small pub 10 miles down the road," John said.
"Ok, so let's deal with this privacy thing now," I said.
"What's to deal with, we live together, we go to the bathroom when we need to, we masturbate when we need to, and so on, no big deal," he said.
My eyes rolled up into my head. I then pointed out, "yeah, but I mean we have no privacy, and I mean, its not that I mind men around me naked, I served for five years, but I feel very on top of you."
John just smiled and said, "we'll manage, why don't you get back to masturbating, I need to call some union reps about getting disability, I hate being this far from the city." John proceeded to do just that, but I just lay their, my _c_o_c_k_ flaccid and exposed. Listening to his voice, I finally closed my eyes and caught some nap time. John woke me up around 1200 hours and my _c_o_c_k_ was still hanging out.
I felt kind of certain he had been watching me as I slept, but I didn't mention it. I took a piss then drank some water and we headed out to pick up L-Wing for lunch followed by a 5 mile run and the obstacle course.
After classes, the prisoners had lunch at around 1200 hours. I made a habit of making them do two or so laps around the main grounds before lunch to get any pent up energy out of them. Then we would head to the mess hall for lunch. I would monitor lunch and following John's example, slapped prisoners who didn't follow proper table manners and all in all just kept them in check with fear, exhaustion, and liberal doses of pain and humiliation.
Bryant tried to smuggle a knife out of the mess hall, I let him get it out of the hall and then as soon as we were on the green, I pushed him to the ground and had John perform a full body cavity search until the knife was located. Searching his rectum was in this case superfluous to finding the knife, but watching his utter humiliation as John's large hand probed inside his rectum and the fear response in the other prisoner's was quite satisfying.
I informed the squad that everyone would do an extra mile for Bryant's little stunt and decided not to punish him further.
Powell had difficulty completing the run even at the slow pace of the group and collapsed twice. Both times, I caught John spanking the young man violently to encourage him to keep up. I was surprised that John seemed to be devoting so much attention to Powell. When I thought on it further as we trotted, run really isn't a fair word to describe the pitifully slow pace we had, I realized that he was singling Powell out and I resolved to find out why.
After the end of the 6-miles, all of the prisoners were near exhaustion. I let them drink some water and then we did push ups, sit ups and squat thrusts till I was convinced they were all at the brink of collapse.
John and I left the prisoners unsupervised during the shower that afternoon. Bryant's black eye was immediately noticeable when we lined them up for dinner. When asked about it, he said he slipped and banged his face. Neither John nor I pursued it.
Later that night, I overheard Brown bragging about having forced a bar of soap up Bryant's ass and I wondered if that was the only thing that went there.
During inspection, I made Powell respect the floor for unsatisfactory cleaning of his nails and allowed John to administer the punishment. Jenkins, Johnson and Brown also got similar treatment for unsatisfactory grooming. I punished Brown with a riding crop and had him crying after just five lashes on his already sore buttocks. He then quickly went back to the showers and cleaned himself up.
Getting Jenkins to cry took longer, the crop marks did not become visible as quickly on his dark black skin, but when I finished two bright red spots were visible and he was pleading for the punishment to stop.
John handled Powell and Johnson, but I noticed Powell was paddled more gently and was treated in a much more _s_e_x_ual manner.
John took the prisoners to dinner while I detoured past the solitary facility to check on Greenberg. I watched in amazement as Watkins was lashed by one of the larger guards about 50 times with a thick bull whip. His skin did not break though and the prisoner screamed and cried with all his might.
Greenberg had been left unperturbed for most of the afternoon and asked if he might get out early. I shook my head and then thinking on it further, asked him to lick my boots clean. He complied eagerly and as he did I swatted his body firmly with my riding crop. After he finished, I shoved him back in the cell and said, "if you behave on my visits, we might get you out early." He smiled eagerly and lay back down on the mat.
I headed over to the mess hall and grabbed some grub while chatting with the other guards. Out of my eye, I noticed John giving Powell another paddling bent over the table. Most of the dining room noticed the display and Powell was crying when it finished, mostly I think from embarrassment.
Back in the Wing, things were quiet after dinner, each of us took a one hour shift during the reading time and I once again helped Bryant with his reading. After about 10 minutes he fell into my chest crying and sobbing about how he was a good boy and wouldn't get into trouble again. I held him for a bit and then reminded him that he was here because he had assaulted an old woman outside a bank. He shrugged as if unashamed of his conduct and pleaded with me to let him go home promising he would be good. The others obviously overheard this, but none dared to say a word, all pretended to keep reading.
When my shift ended, I left him still crying and still pleading softly. During John's shift I heard the sound of a paddle and peering in I saw him working Powell's butt a dark shade of crimson. As he finished he loudly barked, "this is quiet time unless any of you like a paddle beating your ass instead."
After light's out, we decided to watch the room from the mirror in the ante-chamber and sat talking. Both of us sat on my bed. I was leaning against the wall and watching through the mirror as John faced me.
"Hey, I wanted to thank you for flunking Powell on inspection," he said.
I responded, "he was unsatisfactory, I didn't do it for you."
"Yeah, but you could have let it slide," John responded.
"What is it with him anyhow," I asked.
John smiled and said, "he's a punk and he is hot, I was thinking of dragging him in here in a bit for some fun and to teach him his place."
I shrugged and asked, "What sort of fun?"
"Look, sometimes you've got a prisoner you find to be fun to play with like this Powell kid he was such a goodie too shoes before he got here, now I want him to know he is mine," John said.
"So, what are you going to do," I asked.
"_f_u_c_k_ him of course," John said.
"Why," I asked.
"Because I like smooth virgin butt and once they're _f_u_c_k_ed like that they never are quite as _c_o_c_k_y again and if you _f_u_c_k_ them night after night like I did with some of them you can really put them in their place," John said.
Somewhat shocked but also curious of how this handsome hunk would be with a man, I suggested that he fetch Powell and show me how one puts the prisoners in their place. Greenberg I thought might need just such a lesson.
A minute later and John and a screaming 23 year old was in our quarters, the latter chained to the rail. After a few more minutes on patrol in the Wing and a couple of loud thwacks with the baton to push prisoners back into their beds, all was quiet in the Wing again.
John had Powell kneel on all fours and then cuffed him to a leg of the desk. Sniveling like a dog, Powell begged us not to punish him and pleaded that he was in bed sleeping not making noise. John smiled and stuffed a sock in his mouth. Tears streamed down the prisoner's face and lubricant was smeared around his _f_u_c_k_hole and then John, my gorgeous co-worker stripped naked and kneeled. Spitting on his hand and lubing his _c_o_c_k_ slightly he then rammed it unceremoniously into Powell's tight virgin _f_u_c_k_hole. Even through the gagged mouth you could hear muffled screams. I watched John in amazement marveling at his talented _c_o_c_k_ ramming the small young man violently. When his head leaned back in ecstasy and he achieved orgasm, I felt certain he was gay also. I mean, I know plenty of guys in the army who had _s_e_x_ with me but who weren't gay. I could generally tell because they used dirty language to refer to me or treated me like a woman, but John never spoke negatively to Powell and I noticed him stroking the younger man's _c_o_c_k_ as he _f_u_c_k_ed the boy to help him derive some pleasure from the rape.
After he finished he uncuffed the crying boy and whispered something that seemed threatening into the boy's ear and sent him back to the Wing to get some shut eye.
John came back in and asked me why I didn't partake. I just stammered for a bit and he started, "look the kids will do it to each other, I mean you think they didn't rape Bryant for _f_u_c_k_ing up?"
I shrugged.
"Get with it man, this is a prison, things happen and you might as well make sure you are in charge of it," John told me as if lecturing to a young child. He continued, "Powell may be feeling awfully humiliated and embarrassed but he paid me all the money he had for the privilege of being my _f_u_c_k_ toy."
My shock must have shown on my face.
"He knew that as a soft white boy with smooth features he'd be getting gang banged in the shower by everyone, if he's mine though nobody will touch him," John explained.
"So this is common," I asked.
"Yeah man, at least among the softer less hardened criminals who plan on getting out without being bruised up," John said.
I asked, "but why have you been paddling him and why did you treat him so rough?"
John answered laughing, "I'm entitled to my fun."
The answer disgusted me and I lay down to go to sleep and ignore him.
In the morning before breakfast, I stopped by solitary to visit Greenberg. The guards were flogging Watkins again and he was hoarse and all that could be heard was the sound of lash after lash against his body.
I cuffed Greenberg's hands behind his back and then tied his jump suit around his legs binding him tightly. To the sound of Watkins being punished, I proceeded to _f_u_c_k_ the young prisoner as he cried and begged me to stop. I waited until my hard _c_o_c_k_ delivered a thick juicy load of cum inside him to stop and then left him bound and naked with cum trickling out to contemplate the next few weeks. As I slammed the door to solitary, I saw him collapse crying on the mat.
One of the solitary guards stopped me and asked how his ass was, I suggested that everyone check it out. They dropped their whips and left Watkins alone and I heard Greenberg calling my name for me to take him back to L-Wing and how we would be good.
Guess I learned a lot from John about how to treat prisoners.
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