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She whipped out her blade and went to work, painting her cell red.
THREE
Lick, Lick, Lick . . .
“Get on your fuckin’ knees,” the housing unit sergeant gritted out, his voice rigid and demanding as he pushed the young inmate down to her knees. She looked up at the very tall, intimidating presence standing in front, her frightened gaze sliding up his six-foot-six frame as he reached for his fly and unbuttoned his uniform pants.
Her eyes flashed wide, her heart beating fast as he lowered his zipper.
He smirked looking down at her. Yeah, the little bitch was scared, the way he liked ’em. He reached into his pants with his right hand and pulled out his dick.
A tear slid down her cheek as his thick, chocolate member jutted outward from a nest of hair. Her lips quivered. Not from anticipation, but simply from sheer fear.
His large hand gripped the base, and the thick-mushroom head was directed at her mouth. God, please, she silently begged. Don’t let him do this to me.
He brushed his dick over her lips, glossing them with hi
s precum.
“You open your muthafuckin’ mouth and tell anyone about this,” he warned, stroking his shaft, “and I’ma make your life a living hell. Understand?”
She blinked her wet lashes and nodded her head.
“Good. Now open that slutty little mouth of yours. And suck this dick. And you better not scrape my shit with them raggedy-ass teeth.”
This hoodrat bitch better suck dick good, he thought as he watched her open her wide mouth. He’d been eyeing her for a minute. Hell. He hadn’t gotten away with shooting his load in these prison hoes’ mouths over the years by being impulsive or sloppy. He was calculating. He chose his prey methodically.
Bitches with low self-esteem.
Young.
Scared.
Vulnerable.
Emotionally damaged.
Broke bitches with little to no outside family support.
The ones with one or more of those limitations made for the best dick suckers. Preferably with low IQs—bordering on mental retardation was even better. He didn’t want a bitch too smart, too mouthy, or too opinionated. Those types were harder to control, and were potential liabilities. The last thing he needed was some wannabe Prison Rights activist making anonymous calls to investigators.
Shit. He had a good thing going. He had close to twenty-three years on the job, made six-figures, and had a pension damn near four hundred thousand dollars.
He could retire in another four years and be set for life. He wasn’t about to let some prison poontang fuck that up. Bottom line, he wasn’t looking for a relationship with none of these convicted hoes, just some good prison head.
He knew he didn’t have the longest dick. But it was thick as fuck, and more than capable of stretching the shit out of a hole. Most hoes couldn’t even open their mouths wide enough to take him. And they tended to be the ones with the biggest mouths, talking mad shit about what they could do to the dick. Then they’d get it, and couldn’t do shit.
Tiny-mouthed bitches.
Sometimes he wanted to unhinge them shits open by breaking their fucking jaws.
“Open wider,” he warned, pushing the head of his dick between her lips.
Nervously, she opened wider and he slid inside. He was dangerously thick in her mouth, and his shaft—oh so rigid across her lips. “Shiiit.” His breath rushed out in a long hiss. He felt her trembling and stood still, offering her a chance to get her head game right.
“You better not gag or throw up on my shit. Or you going to motherfuckin’ lockup tonight.”
She looked up at him and nodded. And then closed her eyes taking him back inside her mouth, while she silently prayed that he wouldn’t try to fuck her with all this beer-can thick dick. The thought alone motivated her to suck him as if her life depended on it.
