Chapter 1
The brawny guard, Ringo, had an enormous hard-on as he tromped down the corridor to check the prisoners-to make sure all the fine young things were safely in their cells and not pulling each others hair or worse.
This was the part of the job he liked best. He'd go from cell to cell, peering through the bars, looking at the tempting female prisoners in various stages of undress, his blood tingling with desire, his pecker throbbing beneath his denims.
Once he had happened upon a twenty year old killer who was pulling the top of her uniform off, the top over her head, her firm breasts round and plentiful, staring at Ringo in sexual invitation.
His knuckles grew white as he clenched the bars in sexual agitation. His cock nearly broke through the pants and hurled itself at the prisoner. He had fumbled about his pocket looking for the key. thinking he'd get inside the cell before she had time to pull the shirt off. He'd fuck her, then quickly leave before she had time to see who was attacking her. But as he got the keys the prisoner had slipped the shirt off, her eyes frozen on the lurking figure of the guard Ringo.
They had stared at each other for a full minute, the prisoners' tits slowly heaving up and down to her careful breath.
Then she had smiled maliciously. "You like these tits, Ringo?" And she cupped them in her hand, holding them so the nipples were sticking straight into his eyes.
He got red in the face and had to coax his pecker from disengaging from his groin and flying to whip the prisoner with its lethal head.
He had quickly left the cell, quickly leaving before the maliced laughter followed him like a ghost through the corridor. He had made a bee line to the bathroom, whipping out his pecker and quickly pumping away till the explosion of seed plopped into the urinal. He had imagined that the urinal was the prisoner's mouth and all the time he was jamming and twisting the hot pistol into her, all the way into her till she was writhing and groaning beneath the assault.
He walked the long corridor, pausing at each cell to see what was happening. Most of the women lounged on their beds, playing cards or talking-their conversations ending when the guard made his approach.
Most glared at him as if he were the devil himself, as if he belonged to some netherworld that they had no part in.
Some had teased him.
"Hey Ringo, how's that manhood of yours."
"Shot any pretty one's lately."
"Has your come turned purple yet?"
Aggravating things that Ringo ignored. After all he was a free man and they were inside their little cells, rotting slowly away. Besides, he did have his girls. A small cluster of them that he had initiated during their first days at the prison. His girls always gave him what he wanted-even if they didn't want to. But the rest.. .
He couldn't deny the throbbing aching feeling in his groin. He had to reach down a couple of times to shift his monstrous pecker from side to side, so that he could walk properly.
He kept thinking to himself, 'I'm gonna get one of these pussy's one day I'm gonna slice 'em up with my pecker, cut a big hole through their cunt lips till they scream out for me to stop, then I'm gonna stop and shove the damn thing down their throat till they choke, choke and gag to kingdom come.'
He could feel his neck bristling with desire. His whole body became consumed with desire. 'Oh fuck,' he mumbled under his breath, 'these bitches is gonna get me to beatin' off again.'
He wouldn't do it this time. No, he would not submit to his own humiliation. Something deep within stirred about and made him feel ill at ease when he thought about standing over the toilet and letting the vast surge of energy empty helplessly into the sewer.
He lodged himself in front of the last cell. The new prisoners were usually put in here until a larger cell could be found, thus it was usually occupied by only one prisoner.
He hadn't seen the new one but scuttlebutt had it that she was a fine looking woman in her mid-twenties, blonde. She'd been busted on a dope rap. These women Ringo liked the best. They'd get so strung out, their heads would get so strange, that they were easy picking. No hassles with them-unless they were on the hard junk and were going through withdrawal, they they'd get nasty. But this one, so the rumor went, was busted for dope, pills and that kind of thing-she'd be pudding in the hand.
Ringo peered through the bars and looked at the lonely figure sitting, hands on chin, elbows on knees, sitting there on the bed like some angel kicked in the ass from heaven, kicked all the way down to the scurry, dust kicking planet Earth.
He looked at her for a moment and she slowly raised her head. Their eyes met and Ringo flinched at the utter despair in the woman's eyes.
But he couldn't deny the pumping feeling engorging his blue veins.
"Hello honey," he said pleasantly, his mouth curled in a grin. "Welcome to prison.. . Name's Ringo.. . I'm sure we'll see each other in the next few years," and the guard laughed.
The young prisoner dropped her head back into her hands.
Ringo opened the cell door and let himself in. He ambled to the sitting form.
"Oh now," he consoled in a smile, "prison ain't that bad. Christ, you get fed three times a day, a place to flop.. . Shit woman, you're probably doing better than when you were out there. . . . "
The prisoner didn't respond. She kept her head in her hands, tiny sobs flitting between her fingers.
Ringo began to get irritated. He couldn't stand women crying. They could do just about anything around him but cry. Cry and sob-these teary, misty women got his blood to boil.
"Shit woman, you're still alive!" he yelled at her.
She still didn't respond. She began rocking slowly back and forth.
"Good God honey," the exasperated guard yelled, "quit that shit! What's your name? Huh? Lift that pretty head of yours and tell me your name." Ringo was stomping around the tiny cell like a horse smelling smoke.
The prisoner raised her head up, tears streaming down her face.
"Du . . . Duia . . . " she pouted.
"Duia? What kind of fucking name is that? You some kind of foreigner?"
Duia smiled through the tears. It seemed as though a little human talk was what she needed to pull her out of her teary indolence.
"No," she said playfully. "Duia is a nice name. There's a story behind it but it's too long and wouldn't have any meaning for you."
"Well Duia, I hear you're in this place for some week tokin'. "
Duia looked like a typical American girl. A middle-class one at that, who had apparently lost her ambition and the Dream-well, prison was her reward for that. The Dream she forsook and off she went to the other Dream which took her in like some horny old man extending his withered arm to some fresh peached girl. Well, one Dream cancels the other out, and now she's in prison about to feel the full lust of Ringo's manhood.
"Yeah girlie," he said, positioning himself in front of the sitting woman. "That weed tokin' gets your head all screwed around.. . it makes you real loose don't it?"
Duia looked up to the guard. "Only with those you get turned on by."
"You don't get turned on by 'ol Ringo?"
"I didn't say that.. . Dope gets you turned on to who you've turned on to, that's all I said."
"No, fuck, you didn't answer me . . . I asked you if you got turned on by me?"
A bit of panic flit across her face. She looked up and down the husky frame of Ringo, her eyes stopping at the bulge in his scotch.
"Now unzip this zipper and give me some head."
Duia's eyes were flicking back and forth in terror. But up came her hand to the zipper. Slowly she pulled the metal fly down, feeling the surging power of lust against her fingers.
The pecker was moving all about, from side to side, waiting for its leap into the soothing warm bath of the prisoner's mouth.
When the zipper was all the way down, the cock flew out from Ringo's pants like a bird from a cage. It fluttered before her eyes like some great cobra, the purple head engorged with sweating lust.
"Now, com'on honey, get down on that meat . . . and suck!"
Duia's petite mouth opened wide and her head slid forward to cover the thick beast that was Ringo's pecker.
"Ahhh," he sighed, as he felt the rough surface of Duia's warm tongue swab the surface of the man's pecker.
She slid ever further, putting the head deep within the drenching recesses of her mouth. The moist lips tightened around the shaft, shooting vibrating lust pleasure into the man's veins.
"Oh shit, you're doin' it right!" he moaned.
Duia wrapped her arms around the man's thighs and pulled forward, getting the pecker deeper within her drooling orifice.
Her tongue was a wild animal, moving up then down then across the hard, taut surface of Ringo's pecker.
His legs were shaking from the onslaught of lust that coursed through his veins like a mad river.
"Oh God, keep it in there," he groaned.
Duia slid her head quicker and quicker, keeping her lips sealed tight about the shaft.
Then she looked into his eyes.
"Are you going to fuck me?" She was trying to conceal the terror in her being by asking almost in an offhand way.
"Fuck you?" Ringo laughed out loud. "Fuck you? Christ, honey, this is a prison not a whorehouse."
Relief spread across Duia's face. She put her hands behind her and leaned back.
Ringo was breathing hot breath through his flared nostrils.
"You'd like that wouldn't you? Love to get my pecker out of my pants and spread your little legs, then stick the 'ol throbber up her pussy for the fuck of your life . . . You'd get all turned on, get an orgasm, then laugh at me for being a fool.. . for turning you on just like on the outside . . . but this isn't the outside, this is the inside of a prison and you have no say."
Ringo's cock was struggling inside his pants, thrusting and bulging against the denim's. He wanted nothing more than to release his power but at the same time he didn't want to give the woman any satisfaction.
He suddenly became very tight lipped. His hands were on his hips, his night stick and gun swinging slowly back and forth.
"Get over here and zip down my pants," he said quietly.
Duia stared at him, then looked at the hard contour of the man's pecker. She began to take her clothes off.
"Oh no!" he snapped. "Don't you take your clothes off. Your goin' to suck my pecker then drink all my seed down."
Duia faltered on the bed before Ringo reached down and grabbed her arm, pulling her up till she was snuggled up to his groin.
Hot, cascading saliva drenched the cock with a lusty brew. The head was at the entrance of her throat ready to take the big plunge down.
Ringo steadied himself, then powered forward with all the strength in his body.
His pecker shot way down the young prisoner's throat till the matted hair of the guard's pubic was spread against her mouth.
"Now keep it there," he growled.
Duia squirmed around, trying to deal with the sudden movement of the thrusting groin. She began gagging but nothing escaped from her mouth due to the huge obstruction of Ringo's cock.
She waggled her head back and forth but that only succeeded in getting the pecker further down her throat.
"You get a taste of cowboy meat and you're addicted," Ringo laughed, as he watched the frantic efforts of the prisoner to try and keep from suffocating.
She began breathing through her nose, pulling gaping holes in the air and drawing them down to her clutching lungs. The cock seemed to expand in her mouth, pushing the sides of her cheeks out to their limit.
The drooling waterfall of her come poured forth its libation on the jamming meat, wetting it, soothing it in a warm bath. The pecker leapt and quivered under the hot onslaught.
Duia's fists clinched around the man's thighs, digging her fingernails deep inside his flesh, making him power forward with greater urgency, driving the prick to the utter depths of her throat.
He placed his hands on top of her head and pulled forward, jamming the curly, rough hairs of his groin into the curling, rooted mouth of Duia, who struggled vainly against all odds.
There was no way she could shake the thrusting meat that seemed determined to cut off all her air. She began making gurgling noises, making Ringo laugh.
"Haha, keep it in there honey . . . you're don' a fine job."
Her tongue looped all about the crown and shaft, making the dick vibrate in her mouth with utter lust.
For a moment she opened her eyes-opened her eyes to the thick tangle of hair that wound around her face. Her eyes were pure terror, jerking in their sockets like crazed marbles.
She could feel the nibs of her teeth brush against the taut flesh and wanted nothing more than to chomp with all her strength-chomp down and sever the pecker in two. But she realized the consequences. Sure, she'd have a cut up prick in her mouth but the violent anger of a man who's lost his manhood was too ugly to think about.
"Yeah honey, if you think you're goin' to give me some bites there with your pearlies, think again 'cause 'ol Ringo would jam his gun up your asshole and pull the trigger!"
It was as if the guard had read her thoughts. He'd undoubtedly been in this position before, she figured.
She could feel the pecker head ram against her throat. The bulge was prominent, running up and down her throat as if she had suddenly grown an adam's apple.
"OOOOOO Shit, that tongue of yours is doin' wonders," Ringo sighed. Little beads of sweat popped from his forehead, popping, then running down his face, his flushed face.
He kept his hands pulled tight against the blonde head of the prisoner, securing it in a vise grip that would be impossible for such a dainty woman to escape.
"OOOOO, get your belly ready for some good tastin' come," he moaned, pushed and heaving his groin tight against his mouth.
Duia quit struggling, knowing it would be useless. His knotty, rough hands had a firm grip on her head and there was nothing she could do about it. About all she could do was open her moist lips wider till the whole pecker was entombed in her drooling mouth, soothing it and lathering it in moisture.
"Mmmmmmm Lord All Mighty, I'm 'bout to empty it!" Ringo groaned. His eyes were closed tight, his lips drawn back in an ecstatic expression, sweat rolling down his chin.
He thrust his hips in quick succession, thrusting them with all the power in his body. At the same time his legs quivered beneath his body.
"AhhhOOOOOOO," he moaned, as the come gates swung open and his spurting seed shot to the depths of Duia's belly.
She felt the hot come splatter against the sides of her throat, then slither ever slowly down the tube to the awaiting belly. Her nostrils were filled with the hot aroma of misting come and sweating dick.
Slowly but surely the cock lost its virility and sunk to the bottom of her mouth like a punctured balloon. A balloon filled with steaming come.
Duia tried her best to consume the hot gift but it was no go. A bit of the wad spurt out the corner of her mouth and dripped down her chin.
But she had gotten most of it. Most of it was now safely in her belly, churning slowly with her morning breakfast, dissolving in slow digestion.
Ringo released her hand and let the pecker waggle loose in her mouth. The tip of her tongue came up and bit off the final drop of precious come that hung at the end of the pecker like a translucent pearl.
Then she released her lips and let the cock slide out into the air.
Both were silent for a moment. Then Ringo said, "You done all right for yourself girlie. That was one of the better head jobs I've ever had . . . That's kinda my initiation to all these girls who I take a--liken' to . . . They suck my pecker, drink my seed, and if they're good they become my girl.. . it's kinda family like.. . Welcome to the family!" And Ringo laughed in a brutish tone that sent shivers down the spine of Duia.
Duia's mouth was still clogged with the glut of Ringo's come and she kept swallowing to try and get it all down. A few strands of Ringo's pubic hair hung off her lips, stringing down like old discarded wires. She pulled them off one by one and let them drop to the floor.
Ringo stuck the pecker back into his pants.
"Yeah, you did all right for yourself.. . Course you'll be available for more so be prepared . . . Meanwhile, if you need anything 'ol Ringo'll fix you up . . . I'm your daddy now and I'm real responsible to my girls."
He let out a short burst of laughter, then turned and walked out the cell. Before he disappeared he stuck his head to the bars.
"Remember this honey . . . I like to play rough. You gotta get used to that.. . You've got to get used to the rough play, then you'll be all right." Then he left the young prisoner sitting on the bed.
Duia Graham was a slender blonde, 5'5", with those firm, rounded tits men love to touch and hold in their hands.
As she gulped down the last vestige of Ringo's wad she began to understand all of what he said. Apparently he was some kind of big daddy to the female prisoner's, taking care of them as long as they took care of him. Too bad no one had any choice in the matter . . . But that what's prison was about, she figured.
It seemed only yesterday that she was a playful student at State U, studying for her degree in English Literature. Some day she would be a teacher, teaching all the drugged out kids about Shakespeare, Sophocles, and Ernest Hemingway. They would light up their eyes instead of their joints and become humanists-changing the world for the good of one and all.
But then she, herself, Duia Graham, began sucking on those joints and soon she saw the futility of it. The utter futility of trying to convince 15 and 16 year old's that the words of some old fool had any meaning to their own lives. She dropped out of college. And soon was involved with a dope dealer by the name of Sam. Now, Sam was a rough man. Sam used to beat her up anytime he got burned on some deal.
"What the fuck you doin', standin' around like that! I just got burned for two fuckin' grand you fuckin' cunt!" Thus he'd scream at her, fingering the last remnants of fake cocaine.
She'd moan and sob like some poor sister and he'd beat her some more, till she would run and lock herself up in the bedroom, fishing around the drawers for her stash.
Later, Sam would be contrite and apologize for his indiscretion and before she'd know it, Sam and her would be fucking each other with wild abandon.
That's what life was about. Fucking. And when not fucking, sobbing because nothing was up her pussy. A dick was real . . . all these words from Shakespeare and the rest were just air.
But she tripped up once. Sam had got her involved in running dope for him to different sections of town. In her naive mind she thought she was finally part of his life. That's what she wanted-to be part of his life and dope running seemed as involved an action as any.
Unbeknownst to either of them, they had made a contact with a narc. This narc, named Jerry, now deceased, partied with the two, smoked their dope, got involved with their life till they were friends. This went on for a year. Then one day Jerry asked for some acid and coke which Duia ran over to him.
"Where's Sam?" Jerry had asked.
"Sam never comes with me . . . Here . . . here's the shit."
After he paid her he busted her. Duia was in a state of shock for moments until Jerry grabbed her. "Let me have a piece and I'll let you go.. . They don't want you anyway, they want Sam."
She slapped him but good and that was it for her. The trial lasted but a few days and she was found guilty. She never heard from Sam. Despite some gamesmanship on the part of the DA, she refused to indict Sam with her testimony.
She was found guilty and sent to the state's woman's facility with an indeterminate sentence. She had arrived that morning. That morning that Ringo had entered her cell and given her a taste of his dick.
Ruminating on the mattress she knew, she had that woman's intuition, that she was going to have an interesting time of it in prison.