Serving Hard Time (2)
with Bud the Sub
TJ Ryder
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A few days after his first latrine duty, now into his second month of
his sentence, Bud was again between work details and back in his cell
trying to figure out how to make a sit-up board out of his bunk.
He liked to keep in shape, and even with the work details the confinement
of his cell made him restless. Plus, when he was in college before he got
setup for that unfair vice sting he kept his lithe body in shape with sports
and missed his regular gym. The guards, all black muscled-up types, had
their own facilities they made use of, but of course he couldn't think of
that.
He found an edge of the steel near the ceiling he could use for
two kinds of pullups, he could do inclined pushups and kneebends
and stretching, but he didn't want to lose his nicely cut abs, so he
needed a sit up board somehow. A month and a half of his sentence
and he would lose definition if he didn't find something.
He found he had a desk that came apart, and by using 3 pieces, he could
use it for a board, although it was only at 30 degrees, but that was
enough, smiling as he finished 50 slow reps, pleased he hadn't lost
much edge. Then he used the small sink and wet a towel down to
wipe himself off with.
Looking at himself in the steel mirror by the washstand, critically
appraising his washboard abdominals and swollen groin, he frowned at his
heavy sack and half hard thick penis. Sighing, he knew nobody was
preventing a jackoff right now but himself. The problem was he not only
would be disobeying Darnell, but disappointing himself. Ever since
in high school when he had been assistant manager of an all Black
wrestling team and been first dominated he had relied on the emotional
satisfaction of obeying any Black male.
"All right," he said to himself, "this is ridiculous." He wondered
himself how far he would go in this obedience. Testing himself, he
peeled off the underwear, and tentatively grasped his thick penis, and
quickly became rigid and erect. Sighing, he looked at himself in the
mirror, and stroked lightly, feeling it inflate more, and when he
was close to orgasm, willed himself to stop, dropping his hand.
He needed it bad and wondered if he would be able to stop. He had heard
that denying himself like this led to a bigger hardon but that wasn't the reason
he stopped. He watched a drop of precum drool from the flared hard knob,
knowing he would spray with just a touch now. Waiting till the tremors went
down, he walked to the corner of the cell where he had devised a chinup
pole, and, facing the mirror, watched himself do chinups, a light sweat
breaking out on his body again even though his hardon barely wilted. The finely
muscled torso showed its definition as he reached 20 reps, and gasping in
exhaustion, saw his hardon wilt, but his balls were still full as he dropped.
This was times when he wished he had a cellmate. But even if he found
a nice guy who was dom amidst the prison population, and he didn't get to
choose his cellmates, maybe the constant confinement would drive them to
eventually hate each other. And of course he knew that slim whiteboys here
always got their own cells so they could be of service to the guards on demand,
which he had no problem with, but he didn't get to choose them either,
naturally. And Darnell, what did he really mean by insisting on rules for
him? He hardly ever dropped by. Mostly that cruel Cletis was doing most
of his breaking. Now he was actually looking forward to mopping the
cellblock concrete floors to get his mind out of this mess.
The next day started off pretty good, first an easy detail mopping
cellblock 'A' upper and lower levels with one other inmate. He was getting
into mopping, the endless loop of the mop, letting his mind just float
with the handle as he expertly swirled it over the smooth concrete.
He still was obeying his masters in not pumping off or meeting Tyrell in
a utility closet, and now when he spilled some water on his crotch, his
half hard and swollen genitals were outlined more to the catcalls of
the eager men in their cells. Blushing now, he just kept on mopping, trying
not to meet anyone's eye no matter what was said. Cursing himself at
spilling the water like that he was both terrified and titillated at the obscene
suggestions coming from up and down the block from inside the bars.
Also, because he didn't want to offend anyone who might meet him in the
exercise yard, he obligingly smiled at the grinning and sometimes enraged
black faces behind the steel bars.
Three hours later he was back in his cell reading a prison newspaper
when he heard hobnailed boots walking down the block on his level.
Looking up at the main clock he realized it was second shift. Second
shift was a little looser, the warden's chief deputy was almost always gone,
and this was the watchout time when he could be taken to the PunRoom
for almost anything. However, standing up and hastily arranging his
cell, he scanned his living area carefully, telling himself that
today was Nothing wrong, absolutely. No way, Nothing. Not a single
item out of place that could get him sent to the PunRoom, a prospect
that terrified and titillated him.
Standing at attention he saw Cletis's huge form and perpetually scowling
black face, his chest and stomach pushing out buttons from his
overdeveloped muscles. Standing by the edge of his cell where he couldn't be
seen by anyone else because of a blindspot, he motioned Bud over to him.
The lithe white boy smiled and came over, nude as per regs except for the
thin worn jockey shorts and sandals he was given. He was pretty sure Cletis
needed to piss. After his toilet detail he had been told he would serve him
from this blind spot. Whether he felt like a blow job or take a leak or both
was all the same as far as Cletis went. Bud was thinking he had to take a leak
because the rest room was two levels down and in the next block
and on second shift Cletis liked to sip some lite beer from a cooler in
a utility closet the guards kept their own key for.
So he came close to the bars, close enough for Cletis to grab him if he
wanted to, not that it made much difference. Any guard could just open his
cell and do anything he wanted anyway.
"Cmere boy," he said, "ah got somethin fo yo to do."
"Yes sir," Bud said, a little fearfully.
"Ah wants yo to toss yo cell up, mess it up good."
Bud gasped, "but, sir! I said I would cooperate."
Cletis grabbed his neck with one huge hand, and slapped him
across his face, hard enough to leave a handprint.
SLAP! Ooohhhhh! "Now, keep yo voice down, pussyboy.
Now you just do what ah tells yo."
"(sob) Sorry, yes sir, but can't I just sign the markup sheet, and then
afterwards I won't have to put my cell back together?"
Cletis put his hands on his hips, looking very irritated, "Listen
up, whitebread! First off ah don't need to splain nuthin to a punk!
Second is it's not fo me. Ah'm doin a favor for Dushawn who bringin
a new recruit guard in today an wants to show him an example of
the PunRoom. His cousin Kaleem startin today an he wants to show
him a good time. Ain't many whiteboys around no more."
Bud gulped, and nodded. He hoped that if he agreed he would
at least be promised some reward or at least thanked, but seeing Cletis'
face, realized nothing would be given to him. "Yes sir," he said
woodenly. Once again, he thought, entrapped and used as usual.
Standing at attention, he stood silently, waiting for instructions.
Cletis looked up and down the walkway. "Here boy," he grinned,
"ah gots some recyled beer for yo pussymouth. That is, if you
want to. You don't I can walk to next block cuz there's a new
whitebread punk with an open mouth over there."
Bud thought he was probably bluffing at that because he hadn't
heard of a new whiteboy through the grapevine yet, and even so the
guards wouldn't have broken him in this fast. In any case he
didn't want Cletis to use anyone else. His cock was erect now,
jutting straight up, as he saw the huge black hand arranging a thick
lump in his tight uniform pants. While he loved the idea of a hot
bladderload from this big black bull, he had been hoping he would
graduate to full duty toilet slut by now! He felt that at this
stage of his relationship with cletis he should be eating his bowel
movements. And then, he wryly realized Cletis probably didn't even
think it was a relationship, he was just a convenience. Somehow
that made it even hotter to the young slim blonde youth whose hardon
swelled in his worn panties!
"Um, no, I mean, um, I don't mind sir."
Cletis grinned, "then tell you wants it, wimpie! Tell me yo
wants to drink mah niggah piss!"
Blushing, Bud nodded. It was so true. His knees felt weak
and he licked his soft full lips. He begged, "please sir, I want
very much to drink your piss, master!"
Cletis softly laughed, and unzipped, and Bud immediately dropped
to his bare knees, as the huge black organ with the big head was
snaked out, as Cletis moved to press himself against the bars.
Gripping the bars. Bud sighed as the half hard black turgid pole
was thrust through the bars, as he kissed the knob softly, running
his tongue over it. Drinking a Black man's piss was such a perfect
way of showing his total worship, and he felt so priviledged when he
was allowed to do it. After several moments where he covered the
cock with soft adoring kisses, he covered the knob, making his
cheeks inflate, and tried to keep his mouth still, not wanting
to stop Cletis from pissing by getting too hard, even though he loved
to make him hard in his mouth. He gripped the bars to pull his face
close to the curly black hairs at the base of Cletis' big cock.
Cletis sighed a couple of times, and finally Bud moaned as he
tasted a hot acrid burst of hot piss. After a few starts and stops, Bud
shivered in pleasure as he just let it flow down his throat, a long hot
full bladderload he was so pleased to swallow. Precum from his own knob
now was dribbling out in his underwear. Finally, the stream was
slowing down, and Bud eagerly tongue cleaned the cock, and tried to
lick and his huge balls. He had hoped Cletis would stay for a blow
like he had once, but he didn't. Instead, he moved backwards so
that when the huge grinning guard put his boot tips through the
bars he could kiss and lick them to a shine.
"That's right, shoeshine mouth. Say thanks for your drink, punkie."
Looking up at the arrogant Black face, Bud felt dazed, his hardon
stretching his shorts.
"Um, thank you, sir, so much!" he said
very sincerely with a warm smile. He stayed on his knees as Cletis
walked off, chortling. Looking at the clock on the wall, he wondered
how long Cletis piss would take this time to run through his own
system, and wondered also when his 'prescheduled violations' would
begin.
'Fun's over,' he thought, ruefully, as he yanked the mattress half off
his immaculate ordered cell. An hour later he was standing at attention
as Dushawn yelled in his face and showed him the markups on his
clipboard but Bud knew that was all an act. He was more interested
in the young huge Black male with a bald head and muscular semipro
look to him. So this is Kaleem, who stood there arrogantly grinning
and arranged his half hard python in anticipation. Even as Bud
admitted screwing up and signed the markup sheet, he wondered if
Kaleem was indeed in on this scam.
Continued!
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