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The Incarceration of Jennifer by Chris Bellows

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Copyrighted © 2002, all rights reserved.  

“We’re here to see the warden.”

 

The young guard is burly and rather imposing but know I can take him. Though as a trusty I realize such action is not advisable. Ten years behind bars molds the psyche to constantly make such an assessment and ten years in the weight room imbues a woman with the needed physique and confidence to prove herself correct.

 

He smiles lewdly, almost drooling with his first sight of Jennifer. She wears the light but strong polymer yoke, completely encircling her neck with simple plastic horizontal arms extending out beyond each shoulder, serving to hold her hands well out to her sides by way of simple loops of strong filament around her thumbs. Since the posture forces back her shoulders, her cute breasts are thrust forward, drawing one’s attention like the headlights of a car.

 

She has a narrow metal band permanently soldered closed around her waist and two matching ones around the very tops of her thighs. Otherwise Jennifer is naked. She wears no clothing and in fact has been denuded of hair as well, except for a short stubble on her head. Lice are always the reason given for the strict prison policy concerning hair. But as trusty I have the style I desire. So according to prison administrators, I guess lice don’t infest trusties.

 

“Turn around, spread your feet, on your toes, bend and cough.”

 

The command is given by rote. Whenever a prisoner enters or exits the administrative area of the prison, she is given a rudimentary search for weapons and contraband. Most prisoners are first stripped but with Jennifer that’s obviously not required. And so as Jenn complies, providing the young guard with quite the lascivious view of her hairless pussy, the guard also bends to see if any vaginal insertion involuntarily appears with Jenn’s cough. There is no required examination of her anal cavity. A chain threads from her waist band, between her cheeks and connects to her thigh bands, holding in place a narrow rubber phallus by way of small padlocks..., the keys to which I hold.

 

“Okay, go ahead. I’ll have cigarettes for you later, if you’d like.”

 

Trusties are not searched..., a privilege earned over many years. And the guard knows not to trifle with me as trusty and with the warden’s toy as well. But he can avail himself of the pleasure of requiring Jenn to undergo the shockingly revealing search procedure. It’s standard.

 

I clip a leash onto Jenn’s yoke. Though not a prison rule, the warden mandates it for the twice-monthly ‘interviews’ with Jenn. I lead and look back to see Jenn blush, her normally alabaster skin turning a bright pink. It’s amusing to see that happen to white girls. When it occurs it is one of the  occasions that I consider my black complexion as an advantage.

 

Jenn has become somewhat accustomed to her forced nudity in the general prison population, knowing that the other girls can only look or strike a deal with me if more is desired. So despite her vulnerability, she can move about under my protection. But in entering the administrative area she enters the unknown. My power as trusty is much limited in the office-like environment and thus the fear and blushing reaction to being viewed by people unknown.

 

Some secretaries look up and smile. I can always tell those who are vanilla versus those who enjoy the benefits of a young girl who munches carpet. The difference is a look of curiosity versus a look of envy, for they know Jenn and I share a cell and my protection comes with a price.

 

I take Jenn into a side office that adjoins the warden’s. With the yoke holding her hands up and out to her sides, she has to turn her shoulders to traverse the doorway. I wonder when she will be permanently freed of the constraint. Originally designed to be worn by recalcitrant women during periods of threatened violence, the warden has had Jenn wearing it for months..., except during brief  inspections in the infirmary.  

 

The small room is austere with nothing but a cabinet, cheap table and simple chairs. The leash slackens and Jenn knows to silently step to the cabinet. Within are high heeled shoes with long straps. I put them on the floor and assist as Jenn knows to step into them and patiently wait while I crisscross her small but shapely calves with the straps.

 

She’s a cute little thing and even in the four inch high heels her head barely comes to my shoulder. So the kinky warden prefers to alter her height so that pertinent parts of her anatomy are properly presented when she bends over his desk. I am also told that naked women in heels are a turn on for some guys.

 

I step back to examine. I spent an hour showering her, enema included, and applying the perfume the warden supplied. I look at her wonderfully shaped 18 year old form..., perky nipples standing at attention atop firm mammary glands..., a waist of some twenty inches and buttocks that are unfortunately so rounded and perfectly proportioned that they landed Jenn in her current position..., warden’s toy. In looking at her..., perhaps she’s better described as the warden’s Barbie Doll. Yes, she looks that young and perfect.  

 

I motion to the table and Jenn knows to bend her torso over the surface. As I unlock the tight chain holding in place the small dildo I contemplate how, out of hundreds of prisoners, Jenn found herself in such an ignominious position. It must have been the nurse in the infirmary, I once again conclude. I have long suspected that she screens the girls during their initial medical exam and is well aware of the warden’s randy tastes.

 

She does administer a most curious psychological exam upon entry to the prison. Jenn either passed it swimmingly or flunked it dismally..., depending upon one’s perspective.

                                                                                               

But then, why should I question the system? I am certainly benefiting from it. The warden knows that with my strength and respect I can protect Jenn from the predatory older girls. When he had her fitted with the bands and locks he handed me the key.

“She’s yours, Edna, except when I want her. Tell the other prisoners her backside is off limits otherwise she can be used any way you deem warranted. And I want her feeling that insertion..., just a little reminder of me. It won’t stretch her. I want her tight. But it will keep her cognizant of who owns that piece of anatomy.”

 

So, Jenn’s tight anus constantly feels the effects of the wardens little dildo..., as if walking about naked with thumbs restrained was not subjugating enough.

 

I reach for a tube of lubricant in the cabinet as extra precaution and apply another dollop to where she’ll need it most. Then I gave her buttocks an encouraging slap and knock on the door leading into the warden’s office.

 

“Remember to squeeze for him and he may put in a word at the parole board.”

 

I hear the warden’s voice, tweak her nipples to ensure they’re standing for him, and open the door. The warden’s hand takes the leash from me. Jenn reluctantly puts on her sultry teasing smile and steps through following his tugs. I close the door, sit on a plain wooden chair and wait while he takes his pleasure.

 

After Jenn’s initial visit to the warden’s office months ago, I made her tell me every detail of the encounter. It seems that, though in his mid forties, our warden is quite virile with a proclivity for anal sex that no respectable wife would accommodate. And it is even rumored that his spouse is aware of the sordid trysts. I suppose conceding to the twice monthly dalliances rather than putting her own backside at risk of penetration.

 

Typically Jenn will prance about, bending and stretching, to provide the warden with complete views of every inch of her smooth pink flesh. Then she will lick and suck where a man most enjoys oral attention. The warden likes the feel of warm flesh and under the guise of achieving the proper temperature applies various instruments of correction to buttocks seeming to beg for attention. His hand, a crop, a paddle, a cane. It varies.

 

But after proper temperature and coloration Jenn finally stands to the front of his desk and steps into special brackets near the corners of the huge mahogany piece of furniture. Unnoticed by visitors the brackets are there for no other purpose then to capture a girls shoes and keep her feet well spread during a thorough and deep reaming of her backside.

 

“He has tremendous staying power,” confided Jenn after her first visit.

 

And indeed when I later observed her examination and cleansing in the infirmary, her rectum was incredibly sore.

 

I found it ironic how a girl would normally enjoy such stamina in a man. But with his deep and powerful thrusts penetrating where it humiliated and abraded the most, Jenn struggled to squeeze him off as quickly as possibly..., carefully following his instructions concerning the manner in which he liked to take his pleasure.

 

Jenn’s nipples would also typically be chafed. Our exalted warden using them not only as handles but also as a tool for insuring the complete attention to his joy as sodomite.

 


The Incarceration of Jennifer by Chris Bellows

Reviewed by John Velder, Copyright 2006

There’s something about a good women-in-prison flick that will get a man going when he is feeling decidedly unsexual. Men, you know what I mean. It’s midnight, on a Saturday, you’ve blown every dime you’re gonna blow playing poker or craps online, you hardly have fifteen bucks to your name, you feel like Hell, the last thing you want is to get off. Mostly what you really want is to pour yourself a glass of cheap scotch, on the rocks and mixed with the last of the bottled water in the fridge. Then you want to get undressed, lay back above the covers, tuck your hand
behind your head, and sleep without dreams.

Not so fast. I have a suggestion. Just after you pour the cheap scotch but before you get undressed and lay out, buy yourself a copy of The Incarceration Of Jennifer, by Chris Bellows. It’s cheap in e-format, and in the situation you’re in, you need some tension release.

The Incarceration Of Jennifer sort of reminds me of that Queen of all women in prison movies, Reform School Girls. But I have to say, Chris Bellows serves it up like a sexual short order cook—hot, hard anal, heels, small petite girls, big muscular black women, gelded men, sophisticated men’s clubs, hard lipstick dykes, muscle bound Adonises...whatever your preference, there’s something for you.

Personally, I liked the anal scenes with Jennifer and the warden the best. I like the idea of this poor innocent young girl with a nice, petite body and a fine ass putting on makeup and high heels so she can be used by the warden of the prison she’s confined to...it’s a nice mental image. Although I suppose nice mental images are sort of Mr. Bellows’ stock in trade.

The confessional scenes with Miss Denise are verywell done...again, useful to any broken down man on a Saturday night. Confessionals are an interest of mine—when I personally write stories, there is a healing component to confession...but Chris Bellows stories are supercharged with sexual energy and their point is not litr’y. The point of a Chris Bellows story is to get the reader off, preferably hard, hot, and fast. Healing, or even consensuality, doesn’t often enter into it. It’s the nice thing about fantasies. You can go where you want to go without hurting anyone or yourself.

The sub-story about Billy is typical Chris Bellows humor. In the story, Billy is a rapist whose balls have been excised by the sadistic Miss Denise.

A word of warning: this is not a story for the faint of heart or for those easily offended (if you are faint of heart or easily offended, what in the sake of Pete are you doing here). But even if you are strong of heart, be aware that is takes a certain type of  personality or sexuality to groove on this. You have to be a little bit...crazy...

But I’d recommend this story to anyone who, from time to time, finds themselves having Saturday nights like the one I outlined. And if you don’t—well maybe you should arrange one so you have an excuse to read this book.

 

 



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