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Tales of a Prison Bitch

by

Ethan Stone


Tales of a Prison Bitch

Ethan Stone


Electronic Edition

This book is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author's imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.



License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of Ethan Stone.



Cover by Digitally Imagined.

Formatting by Digitally Imagined.

Edited by Linda Ingmanson.



Warning: This book contains material that is only suitable for mature readers. Enjoy!


Copyright © 2017 Ethan Stone

Published by Ethan Stone

eISBN #978-099850123-9

Trey Grayson is young, handsome, and in trouble. Newly incarcerated, he doesn't know much about prison politics but quickly realizes if he's going to survive, he'll have to submit.


Trey will need someone else to be his protector to avoid being victimized. In trade, he'll have to become a prison bitch and do things he's never done before. Samuel Booker is willing to do the job, and Trey agrees to pay the price. To Trey's surprise, he doesn't hate the relationship and actually develops genuine feelings for Booker. Too bad it's totally one-sided.


Now Trey not only has to protect his body, but he'll also have to protect his heart.


Tales of a Prison Bitch is an erotic romance with rough sex between hard-edged men and contains descriptions of violence and non-consensual sex.

Second Edition: This version has considerable revisions.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

About the Author

Chapter 1

Happy Fucking Birthday to me.

My ma always said my temper would get me in trouble, but I never took her seriously. I was invincible, untouchable. I was in control of my own destiny. At nineteen years old, I was convinced I'd never fall.

What a fucking joke.

I was clueless. And I fell. Oh man, did I fall. From top of the heap to the absolute bottom.

My downfall started one humid night in Las Vegas. My birthday, no less. I'd had plans with my boyfriend, but he wasn't answering his phone, so I made the decision to go to his apartment. If I could change one thing in my life, making that decision might be the one.

I knocked on Jared's door, but there was no answer, so I used the key he'd given me. The minute I stepped into the place, I knew something was up. Clothes all over the floor. Not just Jared's boxers, but a pair of women's panties and a bra. Jared and I were both bi and had talked about having a threesome with a woman, so there wasn't a reason for him sneak around if he'd wanted to sleep with a lady.

My temper ignited when I saw a bracelet on the floor. Even without picking it up, I knew what—and whose—it was. Gold chain links with an emerald on top. Emerald for her birthstone. Of all people—man or woman—he'd picked the worst. Anyone else, I would've been hurt, but I don't think I would've been as pissed as I was.

Tasha Clanton. Jared's goddamn ex-girlfriend. The woman who had cheated on him with his best friend. The woman who had torn out his heart and stomped on it.

Guess who'd brought him back from that despair? Brought him food when he refused to eat? Tossed him in the shower when he stank to high heaven? Me, that's fucking who. That was how he thanked me.

Honestly, I don't really remember what happened next. I have certain flashes of recall here and there, but most of what I know I learned from Jared and Tasha in their statements against me. I guess I grabbed Jared's metal bat and kicked the door open. They were in the middle of having sex—that much I do remember. Jared had climbed off Tasha in a hurry and held up his hands.

He'd begged me not to do anything and to put the bat down. But I didn't. I swung instead. More times than either of them could count. I connected with his arms and legs and ribs. I'd even come shockingly close to his head. If that had happened, my story could've been very different.

According to Tasha, who I didn't have reason to doubt, the entire time I was playing Casey at the Bat, I was telling Jared I was going to kill him. I don't know what finally made me stop, but thank God I did. I dropped the weapon, crouched in a corner, and buried my face in my hands. That was where the cops found me.

Another thing Ma always said was, "If you do the crime, then you gotta do the time." Well, that one I listened to. Remorse is a sonuvabitch, and I had it by the truckload. I felt horrible for what I'd done to Jared, and the last thing I wanted was to make him testify.

I arranged for a deal and pled guilty to assault with a deadly weapon to avoid being charged with attempted murder. It was the difference between serving a maximum of ten years versus a decade minimum.

That's how I went from being Trey Grayson to being Nevada Correctional Inmate 1078452.

Just six months shy of being twenty years old, I entered Paradise Correctional Center, a medium security prison just outside of Vegas. It was a true eye-opener. I was still a little on the cocky side, convinced I wouldn't be torn down or made to feel subhuman. I'd been stripped out when I originally went to jail and again when the Nevada Department of Corrections personnel took custody of me.

It was at PCC, in a hallway with two dozen other men, where I learned there would be no such thing as privacy. We were all ordered to take off our clothes and perform a series of actions to ensure we weren't trying to sneak anything into the prison. At first I thought it was ridiculous that I had to bend at the waist, spread my ass cheeks, and cough three times.

Who the hell would shove something up their ass?

Except somebody had. A guy just three away from me argued at the orders but finally complied, and, I shit you not, a cell phone wrapped in plastic popped out of his butthole.

That was just the beginning of my education.

Chapter 2

I was put into a cell with a man named Hoosier. Judging by his looks he had to be at least eighty years old. Turned out I wasn't far off—he was seventy-nine.

"What you do to get in here?" I'd made my bunk, the top one, with the skinny mattress and sheets so thin, you could see through them.

Hoosier snorted. "Lesson number one, kid, never ask a con what his crime is."

"Oh, okay. What if someone asks me what I did?"

"Up to you. If it ain't too bad, you're safe to talk about it. If it's something like rape or child abuse…well then, you'd better keep your mouth shut and learn how to protect yourself. Them kind ain't looked upon too well."

"Nah, didn't do anything like that. Beat up a guy with a bat."

"Why? Was he fucking your girlfriend?" Hoosier chuckled, then got into a coughing, hacking fit. His lungs certainly didn't sound healthy.

"Yeah." I lied because I didn't think my sexuality was anyone's business. Plus, I'd heard that being gay in prison put a target on your back. I doubted the fact that I was bi would matter all that much.

Being at a medium security prison as opposed to a max meant that inmates had a few more rights and privileges. We had tier time and yard time where we were allowed out of our cells for certain times of the day. I still mainly kept to myself except for playing cards with Hoosier and a few of his friends.

Hoosier and I walked to chow time together, even used the showers together, which were open style like in gym class. Most of the time, he and I were in the showers when there were very few other inmates around, which allowed us to keep a respectable distance. Hoosier and his wrinkly skin was definitely not my type, but even if he was more attractive, I would've kept my eyes to myself. I wasn't about to reveal my sexuality to anyone.

I'd been at PCC a few months before I had my first truly scary moment. I guess I assumed the rumors of rape and assault were just urban legends, but for sure I really wasn't paying attention to prison politics. And that nearly led to some really bad shit happening.

After working out, I badly needed a shower, but Hoosier, whose health had been declining, was asleep. No big deal, I figured I'd let my celly sleep while I cleaned up. It wasn't like I needed Hoosier there. Maybe I'd be lucky and I'd have a little privacy. That was something I was still adjusting to—never being alone. Not to eat or sleep or take a shit. Not even to jack off.

The showers were empty when I first arrived, so I stripped, grabbed my towel, and turned on the water. I was all soaped up and considering stroking myself when I heard voices. Damn, the JO would have to wait until Hoosier was asleep and snoring loudly like always.

A tall, bald man I'd seen on the yard a few times came in with a couple of friends right behind him. Calling him tall was a bit of an understatement. He had to be at least six foot five, with a body of pure muscle. He was a huge fellow for sure. And things below the waist were just as large. I hadn't meant to look but couldn't help it. Especially when he got hard. It had to be at least ten inches long and as thick as my forearm.

I turned red and must have gaped at the size of his prick a bit too long, because he caught me staring at him.

"You checking me out, little guy?" he boomed.

"Oh, sorry, didn't mean to." I turned away and prayed he'd let it go at that.

"You don't gotta be shy. I don't mind showing off."

I said nothing, quickly rinsed off, and tried to make my exit. He nodded at his friends, who stepped in front of me and grabbed my arms.

"Where you going, pretty boy?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything." I kept my eyes aimed at the floor, but he grabbed my hair and jerked my head up.

"You are a gorgeous thing." He stroked my cheek. "I think I'm gonna have a lot of fun shoving my monster cock up your tight little ass."

Oh, fuck. What have I gotten myself into?

"What's your name?" the big guy asked.

"Trey Grayson."

One of the guys released me and stepped back with his hands raised. "Shit, Duncan. He's Hoosier's celly."

Duncan scowled. "Damn it."

The other fellow let me go, but Duncan remained close. "You may have protection now, but Hoosier won't be around for much longer. When he's gone, pretty boy, your ass is mine."

When I realized I was free to go, I rushed out just as fast as my feet could go. Hoosier was still asleep when I got there, so I crawled into bed, pulled the blanket up to my chin, and tried to stop trembling. Duncan was truly terrifying, and not just in the physical sense. His words shook me too. What had he meant about me being protected? And what did Hoosier have to do with it?

When dinner came, I was too freaked out to leave my cell, so Hoosier went without me. When he returned, he slammed his hand on my bunk, startling me out of my haze.

"What the fuck were you thinking, Grayson? Going to the showers without me was a really dumb move."

I sat up and swung my feet over the side. "I didn't know. You never said anything."

"I didn't think I had to, for Christ's sake. I figured the fact that I always stayed by your side would clue you in."

"So you have been protecting me?"

He nodded. "I got enough clout and respect around here that my celly doesn't have to be worried about predators like Duncan having his way with you."

"You mean rape, don't you?"

"Duncan has an affinity for young men like you. I should've known he'd come after you." He got on his bunk, so I hopped down from mine and leaned against the wall.

"Well, thank you," I said. "For protecting me. Do I…owe you anything for it?"

Hoosier laughed, then started coughing. "If you'd made that offer a decade ago, I might've taken you up on it. Nowadays, I couldn't get my dick up with a bottle full of Viagra."

"You're gay?"

He shook his head. "They call it gay for the stay around here. Guys who never touched another dude on the street but turn to it in here because of the lack of options."

"Is Duncan?"

"Nah, he's just a predator. Raped men and women on the streets and behind bars. But there are lots of guys like me who'll let a guy suck them off and pretend it's a chick."

"Getting a BJ from a dude doesn't make you queer?" I furrowed my brow.

"That's how I always saw it. Nowadays, I don't really give a fuck about labels. Just don't ever ask anyone else that question, or you'll get your ass beat. To them, it's all about how you're seen. They can maintain their masculinity as long as they're the dominant one. The one being sucked off or the one doing the fucking. As soon as you're the receiver, things are different."

"Those are the guys that need protection?" Was that what I was?

"It's also the cute ones like you who need taking care of. The ones who can't protect themselves."

"Hey, I'm no weak-ass punk. I was in good shape before I got here, and I've been working out."

Hoosier smirked. "I think you'll get there one day. Now you could take on one, maybe two other cons in a fight. But what about when there's four or five guys coming at you?"

"What guy could fight his way out of that?"

"No one, and that's kind of the point. Anyone coming in either needs to be too scary to fuck with, be part of a gang that will have your back, or have a protector."

"Well, I don't want to join no fucking gang," I said.

"I didn't either." He rested his head on the pillow. "But I was lucky enough that my brother was already down, and he was one tough motherfucker. No one would come after me because of him. By the time he was gone, my rep was strong enough that I didn't need to worry."

"And you've been helping out other inmates since then?"

Hoosier snorted. "Not out of the goodness of my own heart. I saved them, and they sucked my dick whenever I wanted. I never went for the ass thing, just not my thing, but blow jobs." He closed his eyes and smiled like he was recalling fond memories. "I'd always hoped I'd get out one day and get it from a woman again. Not that dudes aren't good at it, but in my opinion, the hard body of a guy doesn't compare to the soft curves of ladies. But that's something I'll never get."

"You're pretty sick, aren't you?" I asked.

He sucked in a breath, then nodded. "Cancer. There's nothing they can do for me. I'm just waiting to die. Got a couple months at the most."

That's all I had—two months, three if I was lucky—until I was no longer safe. Then nothing would stop Duncan from shoving that log in my ass. He'd probably split me in half. Either that or I'd die bleeding out of my ass.

"You're a sought-after commodity in here, Grayson. I don't think you realize that."

"Huh?" I frowned.

"You're young and cute."

I scowled. "Duncan called me a pretty boy."

"Fits you perfectly."

"Just my luck. My looks were what got me laid on the street. Now it means creeps like Duncan want me."

Hoosier was quiet for a minute, and I thought he'd fallen asleep until he started hacking up a lung. "I can help you out. If you want."

I squatted down so I could look Hoosier in the eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I hate the idea of Duncan getting to you. You have a chance at a life when you get out of here. But if you leave here wrecked by guys like him, you could just end up in here for life like me. Prison can make a good man go bad, and I'd hate to have that happen to you."

"But once you're gone…"

"I have friends in here. And, like I said, you're the kinda kid lots of men in here like. Smaller, more effeminate than the others."

I started to argue with the description, but he held up a hand.

"You have to be prepared to pay the price, though."

"Yeah, I suppose the chances of finding a guardian who doesn't want me to pay him back with sexual favors are slim."

"Try impossible. It just ain't gonna happen. But I can find someone who won't be too rough on you just because he can. It doesn't mean it'll be pleasant, but it'll be better than Duncan and that thing between his legs."

"I'm going to have nightmares about that thing for as long as I live." It was meant as a joke, but there was also some truth in my words.

"So I guess the question is, are you willing? I'm not going to reach out if you won't put out."

"Can I think about it?"

He shrugged. "Not sure what there is to think about if it's a choice between Duncan and a guy taking it at least a little easy."

"Either way, I'm agreeing to getting fucked."

"Fine, give me an answer in the morning."

I pulled myself back up to my bed and climbed under the blankets. Yeah, I was bisexual but I'd leaned more toward women for most of my life. And when I'd been with men, I'd been strictly a top. Never had more than a single finger in my ass. And that hadn't been all that comfortable. I couldn't imagine a regular-sized dick. But even worse than that, the idea of Duncan raping me scared me senseless.

"Hoosier?"

"Yeah?"

"I'll do it."

"Wise choice."

Chapter 3

A couple of days later, I was hanging out on a picnic bench outside, reading a book, when I spotted Hoosier chatting with a guy I'd seen on the yard a few times. He was at least twice my age, with a grizzled, scowling face, graying dark hair, and scruffy facial hair. As they spoke, Hoosier pointed at me several times, and the other guy stared at me intently. I felt like a piece of meat, but I figured that was actually the truth.

Hoosier was probably trying to sell me as someone for this guy to take under his wing. What was he saying about me? That I was cute and compliant and willing to do whatever it took to be protected? I gulped hard at the thought. I may have agreed to become a prison bitch, but that didn't mean I'd made peace with it. The idea of being a man's plaything still made me uncomfortable, even if I knew it was my own only choice.

I tried to ignore the conversation that was undoubtedly about me, but couldn't focus on the book. I kept stealing glances toward him, and more than once, our eyes met. I nodded and smiled, but the man didn't acknowledge me. He returned to the conversation with Hoosier, nodded, and shook Hoosier's hand. He then pointed to a corner of the building that I'd been advised to avoid because it was a blind spot.

Hoosier walked over to me and sat across from me at the table.

"I assume that conversation was about me." I closed my book and set it down.

"Yeah. I think I found the right guy for you."

I chuckled sardonically. It sounded like I was being set up on a date and not like I was agreeing to let another man do whatever he wanted to my body.

"His name's Booker," Hoosier said. "Been down a long-ass time. Nobody fucks with him."

"He…he likes guys?"

"Gay for the stay," Hoosier said. "Likes younger, smaller guys who aren't extremely masculine."

I wanted to take offense at being called womanly, but in this case, it was to my advantage.

"His celly left a month ago, and he hasn't found anyone else, though he does have his eyes on another guy."

I furrowed my brow. "Is there some sort of…I don't know…interview process or something?" I felt stupid just asking.

Hoosier laughed loudly. "You could say that." He turned and looked behind me. "He's waiting for you over in the blind spot."

"Waiting…for what?"

"You're gonna suck him off."

I swallowed hard. "What?"

"It's a quid pro quo relationship, Grayson. He's protecting you in return for sex."

I waved a hand. "Yeah, I know the deal."

"Well, this is your chance to sell your skills. Make it good, and he'll choose you. As much as rake his prick with your teeth, and you're shit outta luck."

"Couldn't he just be bullshitting you? Claiming he's interested just so I'll give him a BJ?"

Hoosier shrugged. "It's possible, but Booker's pretty straightforward. I don't see him doing that. That's why I approached him. He's always been honest in his dealings around the yard. Plus he isn't a total dick to his boys. Booker's your best option."

I rubbed my temples. I trusted Hoosier not to lead me down the wrong path, but I hadn't expected to be going to my knees just yet.

"He's waiting for you." Hoosier hitched a thumb behind him. "Better get going."

Sighing. I got up and trudged over to the corner. On the other side, Booker leaned against the wall, a cigarette in one hand. Smoking wasn't allowed anywhere in prison, but there was contraband tobacco for those who could afford the price.

"Uh…hi?" I muttered.

"Stand up straight." His voice was deep and gravelly.

I obeyed and stuffed my hands in my pockets as he examined me. I fought the urge to spin around but figured it was best to do only what he requested.

"Look at me."

I snapped my head up and stared right into his silvery-gray eyes. Despite a weary, haggard face, Booker wasn't bad looking. Not the type I'd ever gone for, but not unappealing whatsoever. He was taller than me by at least five inches, but quite a bit more muscular. His intense gaze made me shiver, but I didn't look away.

"I had a girl on the outside with blue eyes like yours. Same hair color too. Always had a thing for redheads."

Self-consciously, I ran a hand through my locks. "I used to get teased about it all the time."

Ignoring my words, Booker said, "Did Hoosier tell you the deal?"

"Um…yeah…I guess. I need a protector, and you…"

"I want someone who'll suck my dick and bend over when I say so."

I nodded and kicked at a rock on the ground.

"You ready to show me what you can do?"

That knot in my stomach formed again.

"Well? Either you are or you ain't. Don't fucking waste my time."

"Sorry. I'm just…yeah…I'm ready."

"Get on your knees and make it quick."

I lowered myself so my face was level with his crotch. I reached for his pants, but he slapped my hands away. Booker opened his fly and fished out a semi-erect cock. I thanked God he wasn't hung like a horse. I might not've been able to swallow something like that.

He stroked himself a few times, and blood pumped into his shaft. Even though he wasn't huge, he wasn't a small guy either. I'd been the recipient of more blow jobs than I'd given, but I wasn't a stranger to giving them. However, Booker's was the biggest cock I'd ever sucked. Probably around seven inches long, it had a decent girth, with a thick vein running down the side and a wide mushroom head.

When he was fully erect, Booker put his hand on the back of my head and guided me forward. He wiped precum on my lips with a couple of swipes.

"Open yer mouth."

I sucked in a deep breath, opened wide, and allowed Booker to slide his cock inside. I nearly gagged when he hit the back of my throat, but got control. He pulled out for a moment, then slid back in, this time more slowly.

A thousand thoughts ran through my head. How had I gotten myself into this situation? Not just prison, but also on my knees with a man's dick in my mouth. However, considering my options, this was my best choice. And I wouldn't convince him to help me out by staying there like a limp fish. I'd had men and women who had just sat there while I fucked their mouths. Sure, I'd come, just like Booker would, but it wasn't as enjoyable as someone who participated.

Setting my mind to selling me as the person Booker should choose, I reached up and wrapped one hand around his shaft. Stroking and sucking at the same time, I took him as deep as I could, then pulled back. I kept my tongue in constant motion, licking the underside of his shaft when he was in my throat or lapping at the head when he momentarily withdrew.

The low, almost inaudible moans and grunts Booker made told me he was enjoying what I was doing. With my free hand, I fondled his balls, tugging gently on the sac. I glanced up and watched the ecstasy play across his face. Eyes closed, biting his bottom lip, there was no doubt Booker was in heaven and likely close to orgasm. I reached behind his balls and rubbed his taint. Gently at first, then harder.

"Oh, fuck," Booker gasped. He grabbed my head with both hands and shoved his dick all the way down my throat and came. Between the width of his shaft and the amount of jizz he shot, I couldn't breathe. Booker pulled out, and I fell to the ground, spitting the cum out of my mouth. Damn, it was a lot too. It had to have been weeks since he ejaculated.

When I could breathe again, I risked a glance at Booker, who wore a wry smile. He held out a hand. I took it and stood.

"You ain't supposed to spit."

"Sorry, I—"

"Just don't do it next time."

I won't." I realized what he'd said. "Next time?"

He nodded. "You suck cock much better than Bird."

"Who?"

"The guy I was gonna take in if you hadn't come along."

"So you are going to protect me?" I grinned and felt relief course through me.

"You know what the deal is, right?"

I nodded. "You take care of me. Stop other inmates from kicking my ass or raping me. And I'll take care of you with…sex."

"Exactly. Whatever I want, whenever I want. You don't say no, ever. You'll suck my dick, and I'll fuck your ass. Never the other way around. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"There may be other things I want you to do. You belong to me. My mistress, my boy, my prison bitch. Any problem with that?"

I shook my head. I actually had lots of problems with that, but I wasn't about to voice any issues. Duncan's huge cock kept flashing through my mind, and if I was going to get fucked in the ass, I'd much prefer it was Booker.

"Good. I think it'll work out fine between us. Who's your caseworker?"

"Hammond."

He chuckled. "Cool. He'll work with us. Hammond likes to watch."

My eyes widened. "Watch what?"

"Guys stroking it. Cellies fucking or sucking. Never touches or asks for it. But he loves the shows."

Wow. I'd been truly clueless when it came to prison politics. "What happens next?"

"Put in a request to live with me, and I'll do the same. It may take a couple weeks or even longer. They've been pushing me to get a celly, and I was about to have Bird move in. I'll slow play them for as long as I can. I'm sure you want to stay with Hoosier as long as possible."

"Well, yeah, but really it's up to you."

He waved a hand. "Hoosier's a good man. I won't make ya move until he's gone or you're ready."

That was actually pretty nice of him. I'd expected him to be more demanding.

"You gotta take care of me in the meantime, though."

"Oh, yeah. Of course."

"It might be difficult since we're in different units right now."

Inmates from different units mingled at mealtimes and on the yard. However, we weren't allowed to go into units other than our own.

"I got buddies in green. I might be able to arrange a visit to my cell."

Buddies in green meant he had correctional officers, or COs, who'd do things for him. Technically, it meant they were compromised and broke the rules. Obviously, that was frowned on by the Department of Corrections, but for inmates, it was a good thing.

"I'll do whatever you want."

He clapped my back. "Good to hear. The first time I tap that ass, it'd probably be better in bed."

"That would be preferable."

Booker chuckled and mimicked me. "That would be preferable."

I screwed up my face. Was he making fun of me?

"You a college boy?"

"I was going to the UNLV when I was convicted. Straight A's in high school."

He pursed his lips. "I don't even have a GED."

I wasn't sure what to say, so I said nothing. After a moment, he gestured for me to follow him, and we walked out of the blind spot. Hoosier spotted us and smiled. I don't know how he knew the situation was positive, but it seemed he did. I supposed if I'd come out bloody and beaten, he'd have known it hadn't gone well.

"I'll get messages to you somehow. Just be ready."

"Yes, sir."

"Sir?" He snickered. "I like that." Booker tussled my hair. "See you soon, boy."




The next day, I was walking the perimeter of the yard when CO Pennington hollered my name and waved me over.

"Yes, sir?"

He chuckled like most guards did when I addressed them as sir. Respect wasn't freely given on either side. Me, I figured it was best to use my manners from the beginning. "Come on. I've got instructions to pick you up."

Frowning, I asked, "Where we going?"

"Don't ask questions."

"Sorry."

He motioned for me to head down the path and walked a step behind me.

"Building two," he said, and I took the fork in the path toward it as instructed. That particular building housed Unit One, where I lived, as well as Unit Two. After being buzzed in, I went to turn right toward Unit One, but Pennington grabbed my arm and tugged me the other way.

"Where—"

"No fucking questions," he grunted.

I nodded and asked, "Which side?"

"A side."

At the first of two doors, Pennington motioned to the officer in the control room, and that guy cycled the first door. We stepped in, the first door shut, and the second one opened. I'd expected the officer in the control room would ask why I was there since it was definitely not protocol to be visiting a different unit. However, there was no talk between the two at all.

Pennington gripped my elbow and guided me toward cell eight on the left-hand side of the unit. Before we got to the door, it cycled open. The control room CO must've known why I was there. My mind spun and landed on all the possibilities except the truth. Was this a setup? Was I about to be beaten or raped or killed?

I breathed in relief when the cell door cycled totally open and there stood Booker, a wide grin on his face. This was just the visit Booker had mentioned the day before. Of course that meant I was just minutes away from having my ass fucked for the first time. With that realization came another one—CO Pennington and the CO in the control room knew why I was there as well. How could Booker possibly have the mojo to make this happen? I wondered if I'd ever find out.

Pennington gently shoved me into the cell and said, "You got half an hour, Booker. That's the deal."

"I know, man," Booker replied. "Now get the fuck outta here so I can get down to business." He looked at me and licked his lips.

"Have fun." Pennington raised his arm, motioning to the other officer, and the door rolled shut.

I remained motionless, my hands at my sides, and tried not to freak out. He put a hand on my shoulder and looked me square in the eyes.

"Take a breath, boy. You look like you're about to pass out." He reached over and grabbed an open plastic bottle of Pepsi and handed it to me. I took a gulp and handed it back.

"I'm a little nervous."

"Can't really blame you. I would be too if I was in your situation."

"Have you ever…been in my situation, I mean?" His face darkened, and I realized I'd made a mistake. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't—"

"I don't talk about personal shit. Especially not with my bitch."

I dropped my chin to my chest and stared at the floor.

Booker was quiet for a minute, then asked, "You a fag? I figure you gotta be, considering how talented you are with your mouth."

"I'm bisexual." I looked up and made eye contact.

"You've done anal?"

"Only topped, sir."

"So you've never had a dick up your ass?"

"No, sir."

"Damn, I love virgin holes." Booker chuckled.

"What about you? Are you…I mean did you do this on the outside?"

"Did I do guys, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"Nope. I even resisted for a bit after I got here. But I got too horny and decided a hole was a hole."

I laughed nervously and stood there, shifting from foot to foot.

"I'll be gentle with you since this is your first time," Booker said. "But I can't promise that in the future. There'll be times when I'll be rough and fuck your ass like a wild animal."

"I understand."

Booker took off his shirt, revealing a hairy, muscular chest with several small cuts and scars. He rubbed his crotch, revealing the outline of an erection.

"Get your clothes off, boy."

"Yes, sir." I slowly removed my blue chambray shirt, then the white T-shirt beneath it. Booker never took his eyes off me, examining me as I slid off my shoes and socks, then undid the buttons on my pants and let them drop to the floor. I paused when I got down to my underwear, reluctant to remove that last article of protection. Looking into Booker's eyes and not seeing any malice, I relaxed and removed my boxer shorts. I cupped my genitals for a moment, then let my arms drop to my side and stood naked in front of him.

"Very nice." He stepped forward, and for a moment, I thought he was going to touch me, but he just checked me out from head to toe.

"Relax."

I snickered. "Easy for you to say. You're not about to have a big cock shoved up your ass."

Booker smiled. "True."

He put his hands on my shoulders, spun me around, then closed the distance between us. He ground his hard cock against my ass cheeks and pressed his face against the back of my neck.

"You smell just like my redheaded girlfriend," he murmured. "I know it don't make no sense, but her hair smelled like strawberries. Yours does too."

I leaned my head back against his forehead. He reached around and caressed my stomach.

"I'm glad you aren't ripped. I like my boys soft. Helps me pretend I'm with a woman."

That probably meant the end of working out. I'd wanted to build muscle so I'd be strong enough to defend myself if needed. But I belonged to Booker now, and I'd have to do what he wanted.

"Do you have a rubber?" I asked.

He laughed heartily. "What, you think the prison hands out condoms?"

Of course they didn't. Technically, sex between inmates was forbidden. Why they thought they could put men in close proximity for years and not expect something to happen was beyond me.

"What about STIs?"

"You were checked out before you came in, right?"

"Yeah."

"And you haven't done anything with another inmate?"

"No."

"Then you're safe."

"What about you?"

"Don't you think you should've asked before you made this agreement?" His erection didn't flag at all, and he continued to grind against me, his cock sliding between my cheeks.

"Well…"

He slapped my ass. Not hard, but enough that it stung. "I'm neg. I work in the kitchen, and they check us every month since we handle the food."

"So we're doing this bare, then?"

"Yes!" he snapped. "Now, enough questions. Bend over." He shoved me toward the bed, and I did as instructed, putting my hands on the mattress and my ass in the air.

Booker stood behind me, spread my cheeks, and spit. He rubbed the saliva in and added more, then laughed. "We're gonna need a bit more lubrication, aren't we?"

"Uh-huh," I replied and thanked God he was okay with that. I couldn't imagine getting fucked without lube, whether it was the first time or the thousandth. I looked behind me and watched as he grabbed a bottle of baby oil, flipped the lid, and slathered his cock in it. He then poured some on his fingers and rubbed it on my hole.

"Next time, you'll be prepping yourself. I don't like touching another man's asshole, but I'm too horny to wait."

"Yes, sir." I gritted my teeth as he roughly slid a digit into me. It hurt, but then he brushed my prostate, and my body sang. A natural response, I figured, but there was still a gentleness in Booker's touch that wasn't necessary. He didn't finger me for long, and when he withdrew, I prepared for what was about to happen.

He put a hand on the small of my back and positioned his shaft against my hole. I sucked in the last breath I'd take as a virgin and held it as he pushed in.

"You're tight," he groaned. "Really fuckin' tight."

I released the breath, telling my body to relax at the same time. The ring of muscle eased, and Booker slipped farther into me. Holy shit, another man was penetrating me. He was inside me. The ache was incredible. Unlike any pain I'd ever felt. But underneath it all was something I couldn't quite describe. It was almost pleasure.

Gripping my hips, Booker withdrew his dick most of the way, then slid back in until his balls were pressed against me. His length rubbed my gland as he entered me, and that odd bliss coursed through me once more.

Booker moaned as he fucked me, and his grip tightened. He was fighting the urge to slam into me harder. I knew because I'd been there more than once. As much as I love ladies, there is nothing like the feeling of being buried in a man's ass. I enjoyed, loved, fucking a man as hard as I could. That urge was often almost overwhelming, and when I'd had lovers who didn't want it rough, I didn't enjoy it quite as much.

He quickened the thrusts, but I was sure he was still holding back. The pain remained, but the pleasure increased as he brushed a part of me I hadn't known existed. That enjoyment amplified as the sting lessened until only the bliss remained.

Booker's technique was mind-blowing. Years of experience fucking guys had taught him a few things. Considering the circumstances, I didn't think I could've asked for a better man to pop my cherry. He increased the power behind his thrusts, and I was positive everyone nearby could hear the sounds of our bodies slapping.

I gripped the sheets, trying to control the pain, but it was so intense, I began to doubt I could take it. "It hurts. Please, stop."

He slammed into me and stilled. "I ain't going to stop, boy. Just get used to it." Booker put a hand on my chest and helped me stand while still remaining buried in me.

With the new angle, the sensations were totally different. Not pleasant. Well, not at first. In this position, the head of his cock rammed my gland and lit my body on fire. God, the sensation was amazing. So incredible that my cock, previously limp, sprang to life.

"Oh, Christ," I muttered.

"You like that?"

"Uh-huh" was all about all I could manage to say.

He chuckled and buried his face in my hair. "God, you smell amazing." His lips traveled down to my neck and, much to my surprise, he placed soft, tender kisses there.

"Stroke yourself, Grayson."

He wanted me to jack myself off? That couldn't be something he enjoyed watching. That would be a little beyond the purely gay for the stay label he claimed. There had to be another reason, even if it was just because he wanted his boy to enjoy being fucked. Regardless of the reason why, I wrapped my fingers around my rock-hard shaft and pulled from root to tip.

Booker fucked me harder, and I sped up my strokes. He matched the rhythm and pounded me rougher than I could've imagined I could take. And damn if it didn't feel good. Better than good. Mind-blowing. My mind wrestled with the realization that not only was I taking a dick rather easily, I was liking it. I pushed the confusion down and focused on the ecstasy. I jacked harder, and Booker wrapped his arms around me, holding me in place.

"Yeah, stroke that dick, boy," he whispered in my ear. "Make yourself come."

His warm breath turned me on even more, and moments later, I orgasmed, shooting a couple of loads onto the bed. Booker grabbed my hips again and slammed into me.

"Yeah, clench that ass. Squeeze my cock." After one final thrust, Booker came inside me with a loud grunt. He fell forward on me, and I put my hands on the bed again to hold us up. He was breathing heavy against the back of my neck, and I found myself enjoying the contact, maybe a little more than I should've.

A moment later, he straightened and pulled out, his cum dripping down my legs. I stood, and he tossed me a T-shirt. "Clean yourself up with that."

I wiped up, dropped the shirt on the floor, then stood there, unsure what to do next.

"You can get dressed."

"Thank you, sir." I picked up my clothes and pulled them on.

"That wasn't too bad, was it?"

I shrugged. "No. I guess not. I mean…yeah, I kind of liked it."

"Good." He clapped me on the back. "Just because this isn't a love connection, it doesn't mean you can't enjoy yourself. It's better for both of us if you do."

I blushed. "I don't think that'll be a problem, if I'm being honest."

Booker smiled warmly and gave me a one-armed hug. "Cool."

I was about to sit so I could put on my socks when Booker stopped me. "You almost sat in your own jizz."

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry about coming on your bed."

He waved a hand. "I was the one egging you on. I didn't mind." Booker grabbed the same T-shirt I'd used and wiped the loads I'd dropped on the blanket. I sat on the opposite side to put on my socks and shoes, then stood and took a look around the cell.

On the rectangle marked on the wall where we were allowed to put pictures were three personal photographs, all of the same ginger-haired woman. I took a closer look. In addition to our hair color, we also shared eye color and skin tone. I figured that worked to my advantage in Booker choosing me.

"That's my strawberry," Booker said. "Jennifer, actually."

"Do you still have contact with her?"

He snorted and checked out the picture mournfully. "Not for a long time." Then he straightened up, and any hint of emotion on his face was gone. "I'll be in touch soon. Little visits like this aren't the easiest to arrange. Plus they're a little costly."

"Costly?"

Booker glared, and I covered my mouth. "Sorry. I tend to be nosy."

"I run a little business in here, but I don't share the details with just anyone. Even my last bitch never got all the information. Can't be too careful, ya know?"

I nodded. "I understand."

"Anyway, be waiting for word from me. And put in the request to move in with me to Hammond ASAP."

"Already did."

He shot me a half grin. "Good boy."

Why did it feel so good when he said that?

Chapter 4

Booker didn't pay much attention to me on the yard, but I figured word had gotten out that I was under his protection, because Duncan stopped making comments about taking me. I had to admit I let my guard down, and that nearly cost me my life.

I was jogging the track and noticed a small inmate standing at the side a few feet ahead of me. He looked familiar, but I couldn't remember his name. The way he kept his head down but kept eyeing me should've made me suspicious, but it didn't. As I neared him, I saw him reach into his coat— why is he wearing a coat in June? He pulled out a shank—a prison-made knife—and came at me. I was moving forward, and my brain seemed to stall, not telling me to stop. Then a truck hit me from the side.

At least it felt like a truck. It was actually Booker. He'd shoved me out of the way and saved me from being cut. Still on the ground, I looked up and was about to thank him when I saw blood oozing from his side. He'd been stabbed instead of me.

The guy who'd come after me stood there with his eyes wide and the shank still in his hand. Booker reached out and slapped the dude so hard, it knocked him to the ground. Then he looked down at me and said, "Get out of here. You didn't see anything."

"But…Christ, Booker, you're bleeding."

"Get the fuck out of here, Grayson. Now!"

I scrambled back, then got to my feet and dashed off. The CO in the control post who was supposed to stop this sort of thing from happening finally noticed and pushed the emergency siren button. Everyone hit the ground, facedown. Even Booker lowered himself. I was still in shock and remained on my feet until Hoosier grabbed my hand and tugged me down. I got to my stomach and laced my hands behind my head.

"Who was that?" I whispered. "The guy who stabbed Booker."

"That's Bird. He's pissed you got picked instead of him."

Before I could ask anything else, the yard was filled with officers screaming and yelling for everyone to shut up and not move. Booker and Bird were hauled away first; then began the slow process of every inmate on the yard being questioned one by one. When it was my turn, I wanted to tell the truth, but Booker didn't want me doing that, so I lied and said I hadn't seen a thing.

That night, I got a little more information, but not near as much as I wanted. Booker had been taken to the hospital in town to have surgery, but that was it regarding him. I wasn't very religious, but I sent out a prayer for a full recovery. If I was being totally honest, I was concerned for myself and what would happen to me if Booker died. But I was also truly worried for Booker. He'd saved my life, after all, and he certainly hadn't had to do that.

"Bird's in the hole," Hoosier said the next day. I hadn't left my cell. I didn't feel like being social when Booker was the only thing I could think about.

"I got the scoop from Pennington, who said the kid was crying like a baby. Admitted it all. He'll probably be moved to Seely soon."

Seely State Prison was Nevada's maximum security institution. I'd heard bad things about the place and hoped I never had to find out. "I hope the fucker gets the shit beaten out of him."

Hoosier chuckled. "I'd be surprised if that's the worst thing that happens to him. Booker has friends all over. If any of them find out who Bird stabbed, they won't be happy."

"Can't say I feel sorry for him. If it were up to him, I'd be dead."

"I also got word on Booker."

I snapped my head up. "Is he okay?"

"Yup. Surgery went fine. He's in the infirmary. Probably be there for a couple weeks."

Sighing, I said, "At least he's okay."

"Hopefully, he gets moved from the infirmary before I…leave."

Hoosier had been getting thinner and thinner and his cough worse. He definitely didn't look well at all. If he got too sick before Booker got out of the infirmary, it could throw a monkey wrench in our plans. I couldn't do anything about that, however. I'd just have to wait and see.

Throughout the day, I found myself wanting to see Booker. Not only to make sure he really was okay, but also to thank him for saving my life. Just before I drifted off that night, I came up with an idea.

"Hey, Hoosier?"

"Yeah?"

"I heard there are officers who like to watch inmates do shit like jack off."

"There're a couple."

"Who?"

He paused, and I hoped he wasn't going to ask why I wanted to know. If I told him my idea, he'd probably try to talk me out of it.

"That guy they call Johan. Real name is something like Johanbakshzadeh."

"Big man, right?"


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