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Stories... Male Domination/Female submission Return to Pink Flamingo Paperbacks Home Page The Incarceration of Jennifer by Chris Bellows
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Ordering “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.
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