The Prison Wife
by Mother Kali
Warnings: M+/M, Mdom, NC, humil, forced feminization, body
Joseph Carlton was careful to keep his eyes
lowered as the rattling prison bus carried him to the state penitentiary.
He had read somewhere--or maybe he'd seen it on the Discovery
Channel--that animals interpreted a direct look in the eye as
an act of aggression. He might have been naive and stupid enough
to wind up in trouble with the law, but he had no illusions about
what prison life was going to be. He knew it was a dangerous
jungle, and his only hope of survival was to avoid the notice
of the predators stalking its halls. And so, he huddled in the
corner of the seat, pressed against the window, keeping his eyes
He had the most profound sense of unreality.
His years in private school and then at Harvard, summers spent
at the country club, the well-compensated hours he devoted to
his profession at one of the world's most prestigious accounting
firms--none of it had prepared him for what he was facing now.
It only made the whole thing more painful
to know that he had no one to blame but himself. He really should
have known better. Of course, he should have. He liked to watch
COPS on television. He'd seen America's Most Wanted. He knew
there was no such thing as a perfect crime. He knew no one ever
got away with anything, not in the long run.
The trouble was that logic was no match for
desperation. In the moment of temptation, all you could think
about was how easy it would be just to reach out and take whatever
you needed. You never dreamed of getting caught.
And, God, he had found it so very easy to
steal. He never would have guessed that about himself. It had
even been from the estate of a client he liked, Mrs. Heilbruner,
a society matron with a spark and a sense of humor, not to mention
a sizeable fortune. Joseph knew how fond she was of him, but
when he needed money, he had not hesitated to take it from her.
He wasn't the least bit proud of himself.
Even after the auditors had started to close
in on him and he'd confessed his crime to her in a panic, she
was willing to let him off without pressing charges, on the condition
that he repay the money and have nothing further to do with her
estate. He would never forget how disappointed she'd looked,
as if her very faith in humanity had been shaken. But she also
seemed to understand what had driven him. He was newly married
and had gotten in way over his head trying to impress his wife.
He'd been too ashamed to ask his parents or friends for help,
and most of all he had not wanted his wife to know. Mrs. Heilbruner
might not have approved of his actions, but she was a romantic
at heart and felt sympathy for his motivation.
That was really the hardest part to believe,
that love, so good and pure, had landed him in such a nightmarish
mess. But then again, love made fools of many men. And in the
end, he couldn't regret it, because that would be like regretting
the love itself. And he could never do that. He would gladly
be a fool for his wife Madeleine.
Marrying Madeleine had made him prouder than
anything else he'd ever done in his life. After their wedding,
he'd taken her everywhere, office parties and civic events and
the opening night of the opera, any excuse to show her off. He
lived for that little glint of jealousy in the eyes of all his
friends and colleagues. Madeleine would stand at his side, so
tiny and lovely and demure, and she would speak with such simple
pleasure about decorating their home and learning to cook Joseph's
favorite foods and how she envisioned raising their children.
And he could see all the other men, standing in the shadows beside
the neurobiologists and dot-com millionaires they were married
to, longing for what Joseph had. A real wife.
Unfortunately, all of that showing off had
required an enormous amount of money. As an accountant, he was
supposed to be good with a budget. But once he started spending
beyond their means, he couldn't seem to stop. The bills piled
up, and then the harassing phone calls started and the endless
letters from collection agencies that he intercepted before Madeleine
saw them. The whole time, she went on blithely watching Martha
Stewart and making plans for herb gardens and gazebos, unaware
they were on the verge of absolute collapse.
But how could he have told her? She had made
it plain before they married that she wanted a man who would
be just that--a man--and handle things, so she could concentrate
her energy on making their lives as beautiful and comfortable
as possible. In the end, stealing was infinitely preferable to
disappointing Madeleine. Mrs. Heilbruner had understood that.
It was why she had been willing to let him off without pressing
If only his firm had shared her compassion.
The bus jolted to a stop, and Joseph's heart
pounded. Here it was: Stillwater State Correctional Institution,
where he could be spending the next eight months of his life,
in maximum security for his white collar crime, because there
was no more room in the minimum security facility.
A guard boarded the bus and instructed them
to file out one by one. When his turn came, he got up from his
seat and shuffled down the aisle, taking his time, concentrating,
so he wouldn't trip himself with the leg irons. The shackles
made him feel like some Hannibal-Lector-esque breed of psychopath,
rather than an accountant with financial problems and poor judgment.
The guards lined them up, and then the head
guy, Murphy, the senior Corrections Officer, gave them a speech,
about rules and punishment and second chances if they worked
hard and kept their noses clean. After it was over, they were
marched inside for processing. His bag was taken away to be searched.
He was fingerprinted, photographed and assigned a number. His
identity as Joseph Carlton, individual with dignity, was gone.
He was now known simply as #863457, convicted embezzler.
When all that was finally over, Officer Murphy
herded them along to a large, empty room.
"Listen up, people," Murphy barked.
"You will strip. You will be searched. Your personal effects
will be bagged and logged in. You'll get everything back at the
time of your release. Understood?"
There was generalized grumbling in the room,
but no one refused. The other men started shucking off their
clothes, so Joseph did, too. He folded everything in a neat pile
at his feet. There was a slight draft in the room that gave him
goosebumps. He'd never felt more naked.
Oh sure, he'd undressed in front of plenty
of other guys in plenty of locker rooms. But this was hardly
the Health and Racquet Club, and these were not the lawyers and
investment bankers he played squash with. One of the guys had
tattoos covering his entire body. Another had a huge scar running
down his chest, evidence of an old knife wound. Joseph willed
his hands not to shake as he unbuttoned his shirt. He knew that
this was perhaps the most important rule of the jungle: never
let them see your fear.
The CO started at one end of the line and
conducted the searches. It involved raising arms and opening
mouths and jumping around like a chicken. In other circumstances,
it might have been funny. If it weren't something that was happening
to him. But it was, and every snap of the latex gloves as another
cavity search was performed made Joseph nearly jump out of his
Finally, it was his turn. It reminded him,
oddly enough, of a game of Simon Says. Only it was Officer Murphy
issuing the orders. Officer Murphy says raise your arms. Officer
Murphy says open your mouth and stick out your tongue. Hop on
one foot and then the other. Lift your testicles. Officer Murphy
says bend over and spread your cheeks. It really wasn't a very
The lubricant felt startlingly cold as the
finger pressed against his opening and then inside him. It didn't
hurt particularly. The officer was careful and obviously experienced
in such matters. Really, it was no different that the last prostate
exam he'd had. Still, he couldn't help blushing as the officer
probed his anus. There had never been an audience at his proctologist's
He had to wonder what they were looking for
anyway. What did people hide in their butts? What could possibly
be so important that you would try to smuggle it into prison
It made him bitter to think he might have
avoided all this--the fear and the indignity and the intrusive
finger in his rectum searching for contraband--if his boss hadn't
gone all paternal on him and decided he needed to learn a lesson
the hard way.
The day after he'd confessed his crime to
Mrs. Heilbruner, he was called into his supervisor's office.
Of course, he was expecting it. There was no question that the
firm would fire him. They had to act decisively in order to protect
the company's reputation, and Joseph certainly deserved to lose
his job. He walked into Mr. Gillespie's office, his chest tight,
his palms sweating, and sat down in the chair in front of the
In the past, he had been used to making a certain amount of fun
of his boss. Everyone in the company found him something of a
joke. Gillespie had the misfortune to look rather clownish, with
a large, bulbous nose, a high forehead and big ears that stuck
straight out. Of course, if he were a partner, no one would have
dared laugh at him, even behind his back. But he had failed to
make partner many years before. Most people left the firm when
that happened and went somewhere else to try again. Gillespie
had stayed, permanently stuck in the same mid level position,
trying to exert authority over young newcomers who would soon
leave him in the dust on their climb up the ladder of professional
To add to Gillespie's humiliation, his wife
had walked out on him soon after he failed to make partner. This
was common knowledge around the office. It made Gillespie seem
like even more of a boob and a loser.
Joseph was painfully aware of all this as
he waited for Gillespie to fire him. It was particularly galling
to have his humiliation come from someone he had always regarded
as a third-rate hack.
"Joseph," his boss said, gravely.
"Sir." His mouth was dry, and his
"I'm sure you know why you're here."
"It must come as no surprise that we
are very disappointed in you."
He kept his eyes lowered and nodded again.
"I understand why people who have nothing
resort to stealing," Mr. Gillespie said. "I certainly
don't condone it, but I can see how it happens. But you! You've
had all the advantages. A comfortable upbringing. Both parents
respected professionals. An Ivy League education. Personal contacts
that have been of great use to you in furthering your career.
And what do you do with it? You squander it all by stealing from
a client who had absolute faith in you. There really is no excuse."
"I'm sorry, sir," he said, softly.
"Things have come too easily for you.
Otherwise, you wouldn't take it all for granted. You know, Joseph,
not everyone can afford to go to their first choice of university.
Not everyone has a family name that can gain them entree into
whatever career they choose. Some of us have to work for
what we have. We don't have the luxury of playing golf with our
father's buddies to get an account we want. We can't charm our
way into becoming the youngest senior manager in company history."
Joseph swallowed hard. "I know, sir."
"Do you? I'm not convinced."
"I--Well, I'm not going to sit here and
try to make excuses. What I did was wrong. There's no question
about that. But I've only been married a short while, and I made
some really bad decisions to try to impress my wife. And I got
into all kinds of money trouble. I just-- I panicked."
Gillespie looked at him with distaste.
"I hope you're not asking me for sympathy.
You've had everything a man could possibly want. A lovely young
wife. A skyrocketing career. Not everyone is so lucky, Joseph.
I know it's no secret around here that my wife Sharon left me
when I failed to make partner. But you-- You were on the fast
track. And you threw it all away thanks to some overblown sense
of entitlement. It couldn't be more apparent that your parents
never taught you anything about responsibility or consequences,
and that's really too bad. They've done you a profound disservice.
But I won't fail you in the same way. I won't allow you to go
through life without understanding that there are penalties for
making the wrong choices. It's not in your best interest."
Joseph went cold all over. "What are
you going to do?"
"I've spoken with Mrs. Heilbruner. As
you know, she was planning to forego legal action if you repaid
the money. I've convinced her that holding you accountable for
your actions would actually be the better thing for you in the
long run. She has agreed to file a complaint with the police
"Look, Joseph, I'm not interested in
ruining your life. But I don't think a slap on the wrist is appropriate
in this situation. The firm doesn't want you sent away for a
long time. But we do believe a taste of prison life will teach
you a thing or two about making better decisions. We're prepared
to go to the district attorney, along with Mrs. Heilbruner, and
work out a deal for a lenient sentence. Our one stipulation is
that you do serve some jail time."
"Now, of course, you are perfectly within
your legal rights to contest the charges. You can hire a lawyer
and take your chances at trial. But you've already confessed,
and our forensic auditors are certain to dig up enough evidence
for a conviction. You could end up spending years and years behind
"Or you can do the honorable thing. Stand
up in court, admit your crime, offer a public apology, accept
your punishment and serve your time like a man. You'll be free
again in a matter of months. The choice is up to you."
He shook his head, in shock and misery. "I
don't know. I just don't know."
"Mrs. Heilbruner is proceeding with charges
right away. So I'll need to know how you want to handle it as
soon as possible."
"Can I talk it over with my wife tonight?"
"Of course. You can give me your answer
in the morning."
He nodded and got up to leave. Just walking
to the door felt like he was slogging through wet concrete. His
knees felt weak, and he had the panicked fear he might faint
and humiliate himself even further.
"Joseph?" Gillespie called after
He turned around, feeling as if he were lost
in a nightmare.
"I just want you to know that this is
nothing personal. I have nothing against you. It's simply the
principle of the matter."
Joseph nodded, but he wasn't at all sure then
that he understood Gillespie's motives. Now, here in the middle
of this room, having his rectum searched in front of twenty other
guys, he was certain he didn't understand.
Eventually, the officer finished up with him
and moved on. Other guards came in, sealed their belongings in
large plastic bags, wrote their prison identification numbers
on them and carried them away. Joseph kept his bag in sight until
it finally disappeared down the hallway and around a corner.
He knew it was silly, but it felt like he was watching his life
slipping away from him.
After the searches were completed, they were
lined up again and marched down the hall to the infirmary, in
plain sight of the other inmates. The men all stopped to watch
as they paraded past stark naked. The men whistled and catcalled
and made loud smooching noises.
"Hey, nice ass!" one yelled out.
"Yeah, baby. You're a sweet piece, aren't
"What's a pretty girl like you doing
in a place like this?"
The men laughed raucously. The comments weren't
specifically addressed to him, but Joseph felt his face turning
hot anyway. He wished he could run somewhere. He wished he could
In the infirmary, they were lined up again.
A doctor with a clip board listened to their hearts and lungs,
took their temperatures, checked their blood pressure, felt their
balls, asked questions about their medical histories. It was
Joseph's turn much sooner than he would have liked. He hoped
this wasn't what prison was going to be like all the time, endless
lining up so strangers could handle his privates.
As the doctor explored Joseph's scrotum, he
asked, "Have you ever had a hernia?"
"No," Joseph said, profoundly disconcerted
to have his genitals examined in public.
The doctor rolled each testicle between his
thumb and forefinger, and asked, "Have you ever felt a lump
Joseph shook his head. His face was starting
to feel hot.
The doctor took Joseph's penis in hand and
studied the head. "There's some redness," he noted.
"Is there a possibility you could have gonorrhea or syphilis?
Or any STD?"
"No!" Joseph said, emphatically.
"Of course not!"
The men on either side of him tittered with
amusement. Joseph could feel himself turning bright red.
The doctor scrutinized him, as if trying to
decide if he were telling the truth. It compounded Joseph's humiliation.
"Well, good, then," the doctor finally
said. "Try to see that it stays that way, hmm?"
The other men laughed at Joseph's expense
once again. Joseph went cold all over. What was that supposed
to mean? But he knew better than to ask. The doctor continued
down the line, until finally the last prisoner had been examined.
"Okay," Officer Murphy said, as
he rounded them all up again. "One more stop. The shower
room. Then you'll be assigned to a cell."
They paraded back down the hall, to the same
chorus of whistling and obscene remarks. In the shower room,
they were ordered to line up beneath the shower heads. Another
CO came in toting what looked like an exterminator's tank with
an attached spray rod. He handed it to Officer Murphy.
"State law requires us to keep you free
of lice and other bodily parasites. You will receive periodic
disinfection to make sure you stay bug-free, starting now. I
want you to listen to these instructions and follow them closely.
Stand still with your hands at your side and your eyes tightly
closed. When you are instructed to do so, you will turn around
and face the wall. Understood?"
The usual collective sound of protest echoed
off the tiles, but the men all did what the CO said. Joseph listened
as the swooshing noise from the spray gun made its way down the
line. And then he felt a sudden cold jet of liquid against his
chest and then at his groin and then down each leg. The sharp
chemical stink burned the inside of his nose. He flashed on a
picture of himself in twenty years, being interviewed in some
60 Minutes expose. He would tell Mike Wallace, who would probably
look better than he did, about how this toxic waste he'd been
sprayed with had shriveled his dick and given his children an
extra eye in the middle of their foreheads.
"Turn around," Murphy ordered.
He did and got another foul dose in his hair
and down his backside.
After Murphy worked his way through all the
inmates, he said, "All right. Shower."
There wasn't any soap, but it still felt good
to stand beneath the steamy water. He hoped most of the Agent
Orange they'd sprayed on him would be washed down the drain instead
of absorbed through his skin.
"All right. That's enough," Murphy
A tall, dark-haired guard distributed towels,
and they all dried off. Another officer handed them each a pile
of clothes, a worn cotton shirt and pair of pants, the same dull
gray uniform he'd seen the other inmates wearing. He hurriedly
pulled on the clothes, grateful to be dressed again, even in
this drab, worn attire.
"Line up and report back to the command
center for your cell assignment," Murphy told them.
They were marched back down the hallway to
the place where they'd first come in. A guard handed him his
bag and a bedroll.
"You're in C-21," the officer told
him. "Line up over there to be escorted."
He moved over to stand behind a large black
man who looked a lot like Mr. T. Joseph pretended to find his
own feet quite fascinating to avoid eye contact.
Come on, come on,
Eventually, it was his turn, and a short,
squat guard he hadn't seen before motioned for him to follow.
They climbed the stairs to the next level and walked past the
long row of cells. The inmates had already been locked down for
the night, and they pressed against the bars as he walked past.
"Whoo, Mama!" someone called out
in a Spanish accent.
Another guy pumped his pelvis and said, "Gotta
get me some of that."
Underlying the remarks he could clearly make
out was an indistinct litany of things that sounded like "Hey,
baby" and "Yo, faggot" and "What you lookin'
Joseph kept his head down. The tips of his
Near the end of the row, the officer finally
stopped, unlocked a cell door and motioned him to enter. He hesitantly
stepped in, and the guard locked him inside.
"Lights out in thirty minutes,"
the guard advised him.
It was only eight thirty.
Joseph eyed his cellmate anxiously, but the
man was absorbed in a copy of Penthouse. He didn't look up. Joseph
breathed a nervous sigh of relief. The guy was big, and he had
a tough, street-wise demeanor. If he wanted to make trouble for
Joseph, it could be very bad news. Happily, he didn't seem to
have any interest in him at all.
Joseph made up his bunk and sat down on the
blanket. He hunched over and held his head in his hands. The
last few weeks had been very difficult. Of course, Madeleine
had been distraught when he'd told her what happened. She felt
betrayed that he hadn't confided in her sooner that they were
having financial problems, and she was desperate about what she
would do while he was in prison. Joseph had tried to comfort
her as much as possible.
He'd also tried to take care of as many practical
matters as he could. He had managed to sell the house and put
away a little money for her, everything that was left after he'd
repaid Mrs. Heilbruner. He had found an affordable apartment,
and they had moved into it. The night before he had to leave
for prison, they stayed awake all night, making love and then
just holding each other. Madeleine had told him in a shaky voice
about her father, who had also gone to jail, something Joseph
had not known before, for a crime similar to the one he had committed.
"He was never the same after that,"
Madeleine said, sadly.
"That won't happen to me," he assured
"You can't know that," she said.
"I promise," he said. "If
you wait for me, I'll come back to you just the same."
She had kissed him and told him how much she
loved him and assured him that, of course, she would wait. All
she asked was that he be the same man when he finally came home.
Joseph had readily agreed.
Now, Joseph looked around the cell and sighed.
It was going to be more difficult than he'd imagined keeping
that very important promise to his wife. He felt changed already
by this experience-- reduced from a person to a number, stripped
searched and sprayed like an infested animal--and it had only
He sighed again. At the very least, he could
reassure Madeleine, even if he wasn't so confident himself. He
unzipped his bag and took out the tablet of paper he'd brought
and a pen. He balanced the pad on his knees and started to write:
Just wanted you to know I arrived, and everything
is fine. The prison staff seems very professional. Everything
is done in an orderly fashion. They are very thorough, especially
when it comes to safety matters. There is nowhere they won't
look and nothing they won't do to ensure everyone's security.
There is a similar emphasis put on hygiene and good health.
I am getting settled in. My roommate seems quiet, which is a
lucky break. If I have to be away from you, at least this is
not such a bad place. I hope all is well with you, and that you
are taking good care of yourself.
With all my love,
He folded the letter, put it in an envelope,
addressed and sealed it, and put it under his pillow. He would
find out tomorrow how he could send it. And hopefully tonight,
he would dream of Maddy.
"Lights out!" a guard yelled.
A moment later, the lights clicked off. Joseph
lay down and pulled the blanket over him. It looked like he was
going to survive his first night in prison. That would leave
him only 239 more to go.
The next morning, Joseph jolted awake with
a start. There was a sharp buzzing sound, and the cell doors
"Rise and shine, people," a guard
called out in a loud voice. "Report to the cafeteria."
Joseph scrambled out of bed and quickly made
his bunk. His cellmate was urinating at the toilet. Joseph averted
his eyes and tried not to think how intimately he was going to
get to know everything about the man. And how this man would
be privy to all his private moments, too. Joseph knew he couldn't
let the little indignities get to him. There would most likely
be too many big ones to contend with.
Joseph's cellmate washed his hands at the
sink. He caught Joseph's eye in the glass.
"I'm Smitty," the man said.
"Joseph," he answered. "Carlton.
Smitty nodded, and that was the end of the
conversation. Joseph breathed another sigh of relief. It seemed
Smitty really had no intention of bothering with him. Thank God.
Smitty finished washing up, put on his shirt
and pants, and headed out. Joseph waited until he was gone, and
then quickly splashed some water on his own face. He'd slept
in his clothes and tried to smooth out a few of the worst wrinkles.
Then he also took off for the cafeteria, under the watchful eye
of the armed guards.
Joseph lined up, and when he got to the front,
he took a tray and accepted the piles of pale, unappetizing food
the lady behind the counter plopped onto his plate. He had no
idea scrambled eggs could look so gray. He took an orange and
a carton of milk, and headed for an empty table near the back.
He sat down and started to eat his breakfast.
It tasted pretty much like it looked. But Joseph had been so
scared about coming to prison that it had been hard for him to
eat the past couple of days, and now he was really hungry. So
he dug in heartily.
He was only a few bites into his meal when
someone reached around from behind him and grabbed his fork.
"What the--" He whirled around.
His cellmate Smitty smiled at him. "You
weren't eating that, were you?" he asked, innocently.
"Well, yeah, I was--"
Before he knew what was a happening, a fist
landed hard against his stomach. He hunched over in pain, the
air knocked out of him. It was only then that he noticed Smitty
wasn't alone. The man who had hit him was as tall as a tree and
his face was twisted and scarred as though he'd been burned in
a fire. A Hollywood movie studio couldn't have concocted a scarier
looking bad guy.
"I don't think I heard you correctly
the first time," Smitty said. "So let me ask you again.
You weren't eating that were you?"
This time Joseph was smart enough to shake
his head no.
"See, Haynes," Smitty said to his
disfigured friend. "I told you he didn't want it."
"Yeah. I guess you were right."
"So, Joseph, you wouldn't mind if we
took your breakfast off your hands, would you?" Smitty asked.
"I mean, being that you weren't going to eat it anyway."
"No," Joseph said, still winded,
clutching his stomach. "Take it."
Smitty smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.
Joseph couldn't help shrinking away.
"Thanks, Joe," Smitty said. "Appreciate
Haynes grabbed Joseph's tray and carried it
over to another table where a third man, who had a very prominent
tattoo of a swastika on his bicep, was waiting for them. The
three of them divided up Joseph's food and set on it like starving
wolves. Joseph watched them pitifully. His bruised belly rumbled
unhappily. He sighed to himself. He should have known prison
was going to be harder than it first seemed.
Of course, the incident at breakfast was only
the beginning. The three men seemed to turn up everywhere Joseph
went. They followed him to the library and took away the book
he was reading. They clustered around him during the work detail
in the laundry, spilled a huge pail of starch and left him to
take the blame. They materialized at his table during lunch and
dinner, and took whatever they wanted from his tray. Occasionally,
one of them would punch him, not because Joseph was putting up
any resistance, but just because they could.
Strangely, Smitty left him alone when they
were locked into the cell together that night. Then, the man
hardly seemed to notice that Joseph was even there. Joseph had
no explanation for it, but then again, who really cared? If Smitty
didn't feel like torturing him, did it really matter why?
On the second morning, Joseph waited for Smitty
to leave for breakfast, and then he headed for the shower. There
was no privacy anywhere in prison, and the bathroom was no exception.
There was a line of showerheads against one tiled wall, no stalls,
no curtains. The toilets were further back in the room, no walls,
no doors. Joseph wasn't quite ready to face showering with a
room full of naked convicts, half of them on the can taking a
dump. He'd been biding his time, waiting for a moment when he
was pretty sure he'd have the bathroom to himself. He figured
during breakfast was a good plan. It wasn't as if Smitty and
his gang were actually going to let him eat anyway.
Joseph hurried through washing himself, dried
off and wrapped the towel around his waist. He was ready to leave
when his three tormentors strode into the room, dressed only
in towels. Joseph froze for a moment. His heart pounded so hard
it felt as if it might explode in his chest. But the men simply
lined up in front of the showerheads, turned on the water, pulled
off their towels and started to lather up.
Joseph tried not to stare, but it was difficult.
He had always considered himself a big, strong man, but these
hulking thugs looked like the exaggerated, steroid-ripped characters
that filled the pages of comic books, all bulging thigh muscles
and popping biceps. Only these men had to be naturally gargantuan,
because everyone knew that pumping up with drugs made a man's
private parts shrivel. And these guys-- well, they were about
as unshriveled as you could get.
Joseph clutched his towel nervously around
his waist. To get out of the bathroom, he was going to have to
get past them. He hoped that if kept his head down and his eyes
lowered he could walk away without any trouble.
Joseph hitched up his courage and made a break
for it. He was almost to the door when an iron hand gripped his
"Hey, pretty boy, where do you think
you're going?" Smitty asked.
He yanked Joseph by the arm and forced him
back into the middle of the room. In the tussle, Joseph lost
his hold on the towel, and it fell to the floor.
Haynes, the one with the scar, laughed. "Look
at that little pea dick. You call yourself a man with something
that tiny hanging between your legs?"
Joseph knew for a fact that he was perfectly
average. Like most guys, he'd spent a lifetime furtively looking
around the locker room to make sure of it. He knew he had nothing
to be ashamed of, but his face turned red anyway. It was every
humiliating junior high school nightmare brought to life. And
somehow, it didn't matter that he was a grown man, that these
were criminals who just wanted to get a rise out of him. He tried
to shield himself with his hand, feeling decidedly like less
of a man.
The third man, the tattooed Nazi, sneered
at him. "With a nothing little dick like that, you might
as well be a girl."
"Do you want to be a girl, Princess?"
Smitty asked him. "You want to be our girl?"
"Look, I don't want any trouble here--"
Joseph backed away and tried to skirt past them.
But his much larger cellmate pushed him, and
he stumbled back a step.
"We don't want any trouble, either, Princess.
We just want you to take care of this for us."
Smitty took hold of his own dick and waved
it in Joseph's direction. Joseph's eyes went wide, and he shrank
back against the wall. Of course, Joseph had heard jokes about
this kind of thing. He'd even told a few himself. They all went
the same way. There was a scared white man, a big black guy and
a punch line about forced fellatio. It was only a joke. He'd
never imagined it could be real. He'd never imagined it could
happen to him.
"I'll call for the guard," he threatened.
Haynes laughed. "Oh, sweet thing, ain't
nobody coming. Ain't nobody cares what happens to you in here."
"But, hey, we're reasonable men,"
"Totally," the tattooed Nazi agreed.
"You ought to feel lucky."
"Yeah," Smitty said. "If it
was the brothers had you in here, you'd already be down on the
tile with your pussy torn all to hell and blood everywhere. But
we're civilized. So we're going to give you a choice."
"Please," Joseph begged.
"Don't panic, Princess. All we want is
head," Smitty said. "You suck us off, and you can walk
out of here in one piece."
Haynes leaned in and smiled evilly. "Or
we can beat the shit out of you."
"Yeah," the tattooed Nazi said.
"We'd mess up that pretty face of yours something good."
"Leave you such a sideshow freak that
all the fancy doctors in the world wouldn't you'd be able to
make you look human again," Smitty said.
Joseph instantly thought of Madeleine and
the promise he'd made to her. He imagined her grimace of disgust
if he came back looking like something out of a gothic novel.
He swallowed hard, the fear settling in, leaving a cold feeling
in the pit of his stomach.
"And then we'd just fuck you anyway,"
"Hard and long. For making us lose our
refinement," Haynes said.
"Yeah, we hate that," the Nazi said.
"Hate when punks make us do things the hard way."
"So what's it going to be, Princess?"
Smitty asked. "You gonna make us rearrange those pretty
features of yours. Or are you just gonna drop to your knees like
a good little bitch and start servicing?"
Joseph couldn't speak. He just stared at the
man in disbelief.
Smitty's voice turned soft. "Nobody ever
has to know, baby. Just suck us good, and you can walk out of
here without a mark on you. Nice and easy."
The man put a hand on his shoulder, and Joseph
found himself sinking to the ground, not resisting, his muscles
like jelly, as if he didn't have a will of his own. None of this
seemed real. He couldn't think. He didn't know how to make it
"That's right, pretty thing. Make it
easy on yourself. Just give me what I want, and I won't have
to hurt you," Smitty said.
Haynes laughed. "Yeah, boy. Pucker up
and kiss that cock."
The Nazi joined in the laughter, too. "Lick
it like an ice cream cone," he said. "Suck it like
a god damned lollipop."
Both men laughed harder, enjoying their own
Joseph burned with shame, kneeling on the
hard tile, eye level with the dick he was going to have to take
into his mouth. He flashed back to high school, to the locker
room, one day after football practice. As usual, all the players
were torturing the skinny little homo who served as the volunteer
equipment manager. Everyone knew the faggot had a crush on the
quarterback Brad Ellis. Brad always enjoyed rubbing that knowledge
in the kid's face, but this particular day, he was especially
sadistic, hyped up from the workout, mean from all the steroids
he was taking. Brad cornered the poor kid in the communal shower
and forced him to blow him in front of the whole team.
They'd all leered and whistled and made obscene
comments as Brad raped the kid's mouth. They taunted him that
they were all going to take a turn when the quarterback was done
with him. The kid sobbed the whole time he was sucking his idol's
dick, and Brad heaped on the final humiliation by pulling out
and coming in his face. The boy crumpled to the floor. Tears
streamed down his cheeks and come dribbled from his chin.
That's when it had finally hit them, that
this was the violation of a real person with real feelings. They'd
all filed quietly out of the shower, even Brad Ellis, and left
the kid sobbing on the cold tile floor. The next day, the kid
quit the team, and he changed schools not long after that.
Smitty put a hand on Joseph's jaw and tilted
his chin up.
"You ever suck cock before, pretty thing?"
He shook his head. He could feel hot tears
stinging his eyes. This was really going to happen, just like
it had to that kid back in high school. Joseph couldn't think
straight. He was too damned terrified.
"I didn't think so," Smitty said.
"So I'm going to give you lessons. But the one big thing
to remember is that if you bite me I'm going to kill you. Understand?"
Joseph nodded. He knew it was no idle threat.
It would be so easy for Smitty to put those huge hands around
his neck and squeeze.
Smitty stroked his cheek. "Good girl.
Now, play with my sack and get me hard."
Joseph hesitated, and Smitty fingers tightened
on his jaw, digging into his flesh.
"Do you need some encouragement, sweetheart?
'Cause Haynes loves to get motivational."
Haynes pounded his fist into his open hand.
The sounded rattled off the walls in the empty room.
"Yeah," Haynes said. "You want
me to inspire you?"
Joseph shook his head frantically. "No!
I'll do it. Don't hurt me."
"That's what I like to hear," Smitty
said. "Now you're being a really good girl. So, go
on then. Play with my nuts."
Joseph's hand shook as he reached for the
man's sack. Funny, he'd never thought about how unattractive
a scrotum really was. He closed his eyes, not wanting to watch,
as he gingerly brushed his fingers back and forth over the man's
"You call that stimulation? Quit fucking
around. Get me hard."
Smitty's tone of voice left no doubt that
there would be considerable consequences if Joseph failed to
do as he said. Joseph thought about how Madeleine would touch
him, how she'd roll his balls in his sack, how amazing that always
felt. So he cupped his rapist's sack and copied what his wife
did to him, hoping it would save him from a beating. Or worse.
And fortunately, it seemed to work. Smitty let his head fall
back and moaned loudly. His cock started to fill.
"Oh, yeah. That's it."
Joseph wanted to throw up, and he hadn't even
taken it into his mouth yet. This wasn't something he was prepared
for. He'd never been up close and personal with another guy's
erection in his life, and he'd never wanted to be. Oh, sure,
occasionally you'd see another guy with a hard-on in the locker
room. A good work could do that to a male body. It was perfectly
normal. You ignored it when it happened to someone else. You
knew everyone else would avert their eyes when it happened to
But this-- Well, this was something else entirely--kneeling
in front of another guy's boner like some supplicating phallus
worshipper, watching the vein throb along the underside and that
little droplet of pre-come glistening on the head, knowing it
was him, his hand, his touch that was making the guy so excited.
If anyone had suggested to him even a month ago that he would
ever do something like this, he would have laughed in their face.
Or maybe punched them in the nose.
But here he was. No joke.
Smitty moaned. "Oh, God, that's good."
He took Joseph's head between his hands. "Okay, sweet thing,
enough foreplay. Time for the main event."
Smitty urged Joseph's head forward. It was
only instinct to resist. Smitty slapped him across the face.
His cheekbone stung.
"Get my goddamned cock in your mouth,
or I'll fuck your ass so hard you'll never be able to take a
shit again," Smitty threatened.
"Please!" Joseph begged.
"Suck me, you little bitch. Now!"
Joseph whimpered in defeat. He leaned forward
and licked hesitantly at the head. He grimaced at the bitter
Smitty moaned in pleasure. "Oh, yeah,
pretty boy. Nice little tongue. Now, wrap those pretty lips around
my meat and get me off."
Joseph tried to take the penis gingerly into
his mouth, but Smitty was not a patient man. He forced Joseph
forward on his cock, half choking him.
"Breathe through your nose," Smitty
instructed. "And start sucking."
Joseph closed his eyes tightly and instinctively
began imitating the things Madeleine always did to him. He tried
hard not to think about what this meant about him and just concentrated
on getting it over with. He tried not to register the sounds
of his own humiliation, the obscene slurping and smacking noises
he couldn't help making. He forced himself not to consider that
this was a sort of virginity he was losing. He couldn't bear
to even consider the word "rape."
Smitty pulled at his ears. "More,"
Joseph felt the man's cock press against the
back of his throat, and he gagged.
"Take it, bitch," Smitty said.
Smitty's cock slid into his throat. Joseph's
head swam. He could feel his eyes bugging out. He fleetingly
wondered if there had ever been a fatality from forced fellatio.
He'd hate for that to be on his death certificate: choked on
cock. But then, Smitty reared back and lunged forward and spurted
thick waves of come down his throat. Joseph tried to swallow,
but there was so much of it. He started to cough, and ribbons
of semen came out his nose and mouth and ran down his cheeks.
Smitty rode his climax and pulled out. Joseph feebly tried to
wipe the come off his face, but Haynes was already grabbing his
arm, pulling him over, guiding his face to his crotch.
Joseph went numb after that. He sucked off
Haynes and then the tattooed Nazi, but it was as if he were outside
his body, floating near the ceiling, watching what was happening
to him from a safe distance. When the Nazi came in his mouth
and he was finally finished, he wilted to the floor, more relieved
than he'd ever been in his life.
"God, that was hot," Smitty said
to his buddies. "Watching this pretty little girl suck you
guys off has made me horny all over again."
"Oh, yeah. She's a sexy little bitch,"
the Nazi agreed.
"I bet she's a got a nice tight little
pussy," Smitty speculated.
"No!" Joseph wailed.
Smitty stroked his renewed erection. He stared
down at Joseph, his eyes glittering with lust.
"You ever get fucked before, pretty thing?"
"God, no!" Joseph said. "You
promised you wouldn't if I did what you wanted."
"That's just the thing, sweetcheeks.
The way you went to town on my dick-- Well, I think you been
holding out on us. I think maybe you're a little more experienced
than you been letting on. Don't you think, Haynes?" Smitty
asked his buddy.
"Either that, or he's just a natural
born cocksucker," Haynes said.
"That could be," Smitty said. "Like
he's just a-- what do you call it? A prodigy. Like one of those
little kids that can play the piano real good. Only pretty thing
here-- well, his gift is for wrapping his lips around guys' dicks."
Joseph shook his head frantically. "No!
That's not true!"
"So maybe he's also a natural at taking
it up the ass," Haynes said.
Smitty nodded. "Could be. I guess we'll
just have to give it a go and see."
"Please!" Joseph begged.
"Get on your hands and knees, pretty
thing. I'm going to find out how good a bitch you make,"
Smitty told him.
Joseph shook his head frantically. "I've
never done this before. Please don't."
Smitty smiled evilly. "There's nothing
I like more than popping a cherry. Get ready for your first time,
"Back off!" A loud voice bounced
off the tiled walls.
Joseph's three attackers whirled around. An
enormous man stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his
"This ain't none of your business, Mattison,"
"Sure it is. I got my eye on this one.
And as everybody knows, I'm only interested in virgins. I don't
put up with no man's sloppy seconds. That includes you. Now,
get away from him, before I bust your face."
"It ain't right," Haynes sputtered.
"Yeah. We got here first," the tattooed
The big man shrugged. "Life's not fair
sometimes, boys. You know that. So, you want to push this thing?
Or are you going to get the hell out of here like I told you?"
Joseph huddled on the cold tile, his knees
pulled up to his chest, shivering violently. He was in too much
of a state of shock for anyone's words to make sense. He really
had no idea why this man was bothering to help him. He just hoped
to God he was successful in scaring off these raping thugs.
Smitty pointed a finger at the big man. "Don't
think this is over."
The man laughed. "Bring it on, any time
you have the balls."
"Prick!" Smitty cursed, as he headed
for the door.
"We're gonna be keeping our eye on you,"
Haynes said, as he followed him out.
"Yeah," the tattooed Nazi said.
"You do that," the big man said,
smiling, apparently not bothered in the least by the implied
All three men left, and Joseph let out his
breath in relief.
"Thank you," he said, shakily.
The man nodded and got down on one knee beside
him. "What's your name?"
"I'm Gus. They hurt you?"
He shook his head.
"That's good. But they made you suck
them off, huh?"
Gus cupped his jaw and wiped the corner of
his mouth with his thumb. Joseph realized he must have had come
smeared on his face, and he blushed furiously.
Gus stroked his cheek with his fingers. "Hey,
don't think you're the only one. They pull this shit all the
time. Let me guess. They promised that if you blew them then
they wouldn't fuck you."
Joseph lowered his eyes and nodded.
"And after you were done, they changed
their minds. And when you put up a fuss, they got rough. Right?"
"Yeah." He shuddered. "God,
I just never expected-- I don't know why they'd want to, uh--
do that with me."
"Don't you?" Gus smiled at him.
"Don't you have any idea how pretty you are? How popular
you're going to be around here?"
Joseph's eyes went wide, and he felt fear
flaring inside him all over again. Maybe this guy planned to
finish what the others had started?
The man seemed to guess his thoughts.
"I don't mean to scare you, Joseph,"
he assured him. "But I got to tell you like it is. There's
not a guy in here that's not going to be after you. Everybody's
gonna want to fuck you. Sooner or later, you are gonna take it
up the ass. You can count on that."
Joseph shook his head, moaning miserably.
"Yeah. I'm afraid you are. 'Course, you
do have some choices. You can take your chances on your own,
try to fight off guys like the three who just had you pinned
down in here. Although, honestly, that's probably only going
to get you beaten and gangraped. Just like what would
have happened today if I hadn't come along. You don't want that,
do you, Joseph?"
"No," he said, desperately.
"Then the best thing for you to do would
be to hook up with somebody who can offer you some protection."
"We call it being a punk. Trading sex
"But I'm not-- I don't want--"
"You're forgetting what I told you, Joseph.
There's really no way you're getting out of this place and keeping
your cherry. At least if you're somebody's punk, you'll have
only one man to service. 'Course--"
"Well, you know, a lot of these guys
make all kinds of promises to their punks. And then they end
up treating them like some crack whore they'd pick up out on
the streets and pass around to their friends like the slut wasn't
even human. Your man might decide to keep you to himself. Or
he could send you out to turn tricks on the cell block, peddling
your mouth and ass for cigarettes. You just never know. Either
way, you got to do what he tells you, or you're back at square
one. No protection and a line of vultures just waiting to get
their hands on you."
Joseph struggled to breathe despite his rising
panic. This couldn't be happening to him. It just couldn't.
"Yeah, I know it's upsetting," Gus
said. "God knows, nobody wants to get gangraped. And hell,
ain't too many people want to wind up a whore, either. Certainly
not a classy guy like you. 'Course, you know, there is one other
"What is it?" Joseph asked, desperate
for any small shred of hope.
"Let me ask you this first. Are you married,
"And is she a good wife?"
"What's she like?"
"Well-- she's pretty and sweet. Kind
of shy. A little old-fashioned."
"The old-fashioned ones are the best,
aren't they? I bet that wife of yours stays home and takes care
of the house like she's supposed to. And actually listens to
you when you tell her something. Not like these modern career
women who think they know everything."
"My wife does stay at home. And she does
leave the decisions to me."
"And that's the way it should be. A wife
should be obedient. Loyal. Faithful. Your wife would never even
think about messing around on you, would you?"
Joseph shook his head. "Of course not."
"'Cause she's chaste, the way a good
woman should be. She's not going to let anybody but her husband
"I'm a lucky man."
Gus nodded. "You sure are. All of that
is exactly what I look for in my woman. And that brings us to
your little predicament, Joseph. You see, I'm not like a lot
of these closet homo cases around here, banging their punks,
trying to pretend they're not into dick when anyone can see they
are. I really only like women. 'Course there aren't any women
around here, and a man does have his needs."
Joseph tried to understand where this was
going, but he really just didn't get it.
"Yeah, I know," Gus said. "That's
a kind of conundrum, ain't it? What to do, huh? Well, that's
actually where you come in. That's your third choice, Joseph.
You could be my woman."
Joseph stared at him.
"Oh, yeah, I know. You're a guy. But
we can work around that. You can learn to act feminine. You be
as good a wife to me as your little lady is to you, and we'll
get along just fine. And in return, I'll be a good husband. I'll
take care of you, provide for you, defend you. I'll treat you
fair. No beatings just for the hell of it. No pimping you out.
Of course, I'll expect you to be faithful. But I'll also be true
in return. I'm clean, so you won't have to worry about getting
some disease and taking it home to your wife when you get out
of here. That'd be pretty hard to explain, wouldn't it? How you
picked up HIV in prison? You'd have to come right out and admit
you got fucked."
"She can't ever know anything about this,"
Joseph said, vehemently.
"And she won't ever have to if you decide
to be my wife."
"But I'd still have to-- You'd want to
have sex with me?"
Gus laughed. "What man doesn't expect
to have intercourse with his wife? And in the interests of honesty
and a good marriage, I should tell you that I have one powerful
sex drive. I need it a couple a times a day."
Joseph's eyes went wide. "A day?"
"Powerful. Like I said. Still, it's gotta
be better than getting fucked ten times a day by ten different
guys, any one of whom might beat you or stab you or infect you."
He stroked Joseph's cheek. "So what do you say, baby? You
want to end up the cellblock sex toy? Or do you want to have
a safe, exclusive relationship with me? It's up to you. But a
man does have his pride, and he wants his bride to be a virgin.
So this is the only time I'm going to propose. Don't come crawling
back to me after a dozen other guys have already had a go at
you. I won't be interested then."
Joseph's lip trembled. "I don't know
how to be a woman."
"Oh, don't you worry your pretty head
about that, Sunshine. I'll tell you exactly what I expect. All
you have to do is obey like a good little wife. Doesn't that
sound easier than having to fight off rapists every minute of
Joseph had to admit to himself that he had
not proven very successful so far at defending his own honor.
But could he be some other man's woman? Could he be submissive,
feminine, sexually dominated? What kind of world was it that
he even had to consider such things?
Gus pulled back. "Well, looks like you're
not interested. I guess you'd rather take your chances on the
As Joseph watched him start to get to his
feet, he suddenly realized he was watching his one chance to
get through this ordeal remotely intact slipping away from him.
"No!" He grabbed Gus' arm. "Don't
go. I'm not going to make it in here. I need help."
Gus smiled. "Now, that's more like it.
So you've heard my conditions. Do you agree to them?"
He hesitated for a moment. But there really
was no choice. He nodded. "Yes," he said, softly. "I
"To be my woman?"
"Let me hear you say it, Sunshine. I
got to know you're serious."
"I, um-- I'll be your--" His voice
caught in his throat. "Woman."
Gus beamed at him, pulled him to his feet
and hugged him hard. Joseph felt deeply embarrassed. He'd never
been very demonstrative with other men--no back slaps around
the office or pats on the butt after the big game for him. And
here he was with his naked body pressed intimately against another
man's. A man who wanted to make him into a woman. A wife.
A man who intended to have conjugal relations with him the way
any married couple would.
"You've made me a happy man, Sunshine.
Let's have a kiss to celebrate, huh?"
Gus tilted his chin. Joseph had always considered
himself fairly tall, but he definitely had to look up at his
husband-to-be. Gus leaned in, and then there was warmth and pressure
on his lips. It felt nothing like Madeleine's little bird kisses.
Gus' tongue parted his lips and took command of his mouth, playing
muscularly with his tongue, exploring his teeth and gums, staking
Gus broke the kiss for a moment, his mouth
hovering above Joseph's. "Just relax, baby. Let me drive."
Joseph thought that's what he had been doing,
but apparently, he had a thing or two to learn about submission.
He went limp in the other man's arms, hoping this would satisfy
Apparently, it did.
Gus groaned. "Oh, yeah, baby. That's
it. Give yourself to me."
And then Gus went back to kissing him. Joseph
stayed pliant, and Gun overran him completely, commanding his
body, taking ownership of his mouth.
It was the single most unnerving experience
of Joseph's life, although strangely not as disgusting as he
would have imagined it to be. He kept his eyes closed, and in
the end, a mouth was a mouth. To be honest, Gus had some skill
in the kissing department. It was all profoundly disorienting,
as if everything he'd ever believed to be true about himself
was suddenly exposed as a lie. He had always been the one who
did, not the one who was done to. He didn't know who this Joseph
was, this person who would let himself be dominated by another
man, who could get so lost in the simple play of lips and tongue.
Gus pulled away. He was breathing heavily.
He couldn't seemed to stop touching Joseph, rubbing his shoulders,
running his hands up and down his arms.
"I knew you were the one," he said.
"I just knew it."
"Are you going to--"
Joseph couldn't bring himself to say it. Couldn't
think it. Couldn't imagine such a thing was even possible, that
another man would use him sexually. The sheer terror of it practically
"Not now," he said. "There
are things to do first."
"What?" Joseph asked, with alarm.
"Oh," he said, relieved.
"Go stand under the shower head. Get
Joseph wasn't really sure why he couldn't
just shave in front of the mirror at the sink, but he did as
he was told. He could still remember Smitty's fingers digging
into his jaw, his cock half suffocating him as he forced it down
his throat. His scalp still burned from Haynes pulling his hair.
At least, Gus didn't seem to be the rough type. Surely, it had
to be better to be one man's wife than everyone's bitch?
Gus handed him a razor and a can of shaving
"Get rid of your body hair," he
Joseph stared at him. "What?"
"You don't like a hairy woman, do you?
Well, neither do I. I want you smooth and soft all the time.
You'll need to do this every day."
When Joseph didn't move, Gus nudged him.
"Go on, then. We don't have all day."
Joseph's hand trembled as he shook the can
and sprayed white foam onto his hand. He had known some guys
on the swim team in college who'd shaved their bodies. But Joseph
had only ever shaved his face. He had no idea where to start.
Finally, he decided on his arm pits. It seemed like it would
be the least traumatic.
Gus supervised, pointed out where he'd missed
a spot, cautioned him to be careful and not cut himself. It was
surreal. Joseph took his time, stalling as much as possible,
but there was no escaping the inevitable. Slowly, his body was
denuded--arm pits and chest, belly and legs. Finally, there was
nothing left but the soft curls surrounding his cock. He balked
"Please," he begged.
Gus shook his head. "Smooth," he
Joseph's fingers felt numb as he lathered
up his pubic hair and began clearing a swath with the razor.
The matted lather hit the tile with soft plops, but the noise
rattled Joseph down to his bones. Funny that having another man
making a meal of his tongue had simply felt off-putting, while
shaving off his pubic hair made him feel as if somebody had just
cut off his balls and handed them to him.
It was just that pubic hair meant something
to a man. He could still remember as a little boy taking a bath
with his father, staring at his manly endowment and the proud
thatch surrounding it, shyly asking why his didn't look like
that. He remembered how his father had reassured him that someday
it would, when he became a man. After that Joseph had kept watch
for it, checking himself in the mirror, every day, all those
long years until he finally hit puberty and began to grow his
own thatch. He could still feel that sense of excitement, as
if it were yesterday, the electrifying knowledge that he had
finally reached this all-important rite of passage, that he had
finally come into his own.
"Your balls, too," Gus said.
Joseph tried not to cry as he shaved it all
off and watched it wash down the drain.
"Okay, Sunshine," Gus said, when
he was completely bare. "There's just one more part that
I've got to do for you. Hand me the razor."
Joseph honestly didn't know what he was talking
about, but he did as he was told.
Gus put a hand on his shoulder. "Turn
It took every stray molecule of restraint
he had not to flinch or fight when he felt the hands parting
his cheeks and the cool sensation of shaving foam along his crack.
But he couldn't keep from crying, the silent tears sliding down
his face as Gus' fingers kept his butt spread and the razor made
quick work of the little bit of hair he had back there.
It was the single greatest sense of violation
he'd ever known. And it was only the beginning.
When he was finished, Gus ran a finger appraisingly
down his cleft. "Nice and smooth. Just the way I like it."
Joseph's shoulders heaved with suppressed
Gus turned him back around. "You'll want
to put this on. All over. Otherwise, your skin gets dry, and
Gus handed him a bottle of lotion. There were
white flowers on the label, and when he opened it, the strong
scent hit him in the face. He blinked, not sure what to make
of it. He didn't picture Gus as the kind of man who liked to
go around smelling of gardenia. Had he somehow known what was
going to happen and come prepared?
Joseph rubbed in the pale cream everywhere--his
arms, legs, chest, belly, butt. He smelled like somebody's Avon-buying
grandmother. When he finished, he handed the bottle back to Gus.
Gus ran a hand down his chest. "Nice,
Joseph felt cold all over, and he couldn't
help shaking, even though it must have been close to ninety degrees
in the room. Gus threw him his towel. It wasn't what he was expecting
to happen next.
"Go get dressed and gather up your stuff.
I'll talk to the hacks about moving you into my cell. If Smitty
gives you any trouble, you remind him what I'll do to him if
he touches you."
Joseph nodded and hurriedly swathed his lower
body in his towel. Gus didn't have to repeat himself. He practically
ran from the room, before Gus changed his mind and decided to
start the honeymoon right there on the bathroom floor.
Back in the cell, Smitty was thankfully absent.
Joseph packed up his few belongings in his duffel bag, sat down
on his cot and waited. A short while later, a guard appeared
at the door.
"Unit manager's approved your request
to move. Get your stuff, and let's go."
He picked up his bag and bedroll and followed
the man up to the next floor. The guard pointed to a cell. Gus
was standing inside. Joseph went in and put his things down on
the empty bottom bunk.
"I hope you two will be very happy,"
the officer said, snidely.
Joseph blushed hotly. Gus simply smirked.
The officer didn't seem to care too much one way or the other.
He was already halfway back downstairs.
"So, make yourself at home, Sunshine,"
Gus told him.
Joseph nodded nervously and moved over to the bunk. He spread
out his bedroll and neatly tucked in his blanket. He could feel
Gus' eyes on him, but he tried to focus on what he was doing.
He tried not to think about what was coming next. It would happen
soon enough without anticipating it.
He opened his bag and took out his toiletries.
"I cleared some space on the shelf for
you," Gus said, indicating the metal rack above the sink.
He said it gently, helpfully, but the sound
of his voice made Joseph jump anyway. And that humiliated him.
He bustled over to the sink to try to cover up his unease and
arranged his few things on the shelf. Gus' image appeared in
the mirror, and then he felt the warm weight of a hand on his
shoulder. He managed not to flinch, but he couldn't stop the
little involuntary gasp that escaped him.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, fearing
Gus shook his head. "It's okay. I know
this is all new to you. But I just want you to know that you
don't have to be scared of me. I mean, sure, I do what I have
to do to get by, but I'm not one of these pricks who gets off
on hurting people. Least of all my significant other. So try
to relax a little. Okay?"
Gus patted his shoulder. "Good. Now,
there is something I want you to do for me."
Joseph's heart started pounding. He had thought
Gus would wait until lights out. But it was happening now. God,
it was really happening.
Gus handed him something that looked like
a spandex bandage. "Here," he said. "Put this
Joseph turned it over in his hands. "Um--
What is it?"
"Faggot crossdressers call it a tuck.
It keeps your cock and balls out of the way. Now, go on. Put
it on for me."
Joseph couldn't imagine that such a thing
would be comfortable, but if he didn't do what Gus said, he knew
much worse things would happen to him. He numbly undid his pants
and stepped out of them. He sat down on the edge of his bunk
and shimmied out of his underwear. He kept his eyes lowered,
so he didn't have to see Gus looking at his body. He pulled on
the tuck and worked it up to his hips. It was really tight, and
he couldn't imagine how he was supposed to get his cock and balls
"I'll show you how to do it," Gus
Joseph stood up. Gus took him by the arm and
pulled him closer.
"Spread your legs," Gus instructed.
Joseph's heart beat wildly, but he didn't
refuse. Gus took his cock and balls in hand and pushed them back
between his legs. Joseph gasped, and his eyes watered. Gus kept
pushing. Joseph could feel his balls forced up into his body,
his penis flush against his perineum. Gus maneuvered the tuck
into place. The fabric was so tight it made it hard to breathe,
and Joseph's dick felt like it was about to break off. He looked
down at himself, and he wanted to cry. The tuck made him look
perfectly flat in front as if he were sound kind of eunuch. The
back of it left his ass exposed and completely accessible.
"Like I said before, I'm no fag,"
Gus told him. "From now on, I don't even want to know you
have a dick. The only times you take this off is when you're
showering or pissing. Got it?"
Joseph nodded. He was trying hard not to cry,
but he felt as if he'd just been castrated. And the worst was
still to come.
"Lights out," the guard yelled as
he walked along the corridor past the cells.
He did a double take when he saw Joseph standing
there in only his shirt and the tuck.
The guard laughed. "What'd you do, boy?
Go and lose your dick and your balls before you even been here
a whole two days?"
"Fuck off, Officer," Gus
"Oh, don't go getting all riled up, Gus.
You don't want to ruin your wedding night, now do you?"
Joseph turned red with shame. The guard laughed
again and moved on.
A moment later, there was the familiar loud
click, and the cellblock went dark.
Gus took a step toward him. "Take off
the rest of your clothes, baby."
Joseph slowly unbuttoned his shirt and took
it off. He wished he could think of something to stall, but his
brain had gone numb. There was some illumination from the emergency
lights, enough for Gus to see him, probably enough for the inmates
across the way to see what they were doing, as well. He tried
not to think about that.
Gus ran a hand down his chest, between his
nipples, to his belly. He'd never had a man's hand on him before.
It felt incredibly strange, the largeness, the calluses on the
fingers, the sheer power in the touch, so unlike Madeleine's
little butterfly caresses.
"It's time to take our vows, baby,"
Gus whispered to him. "Make it official that you're my woman."
Joseph really didn't know what to say. A part of him was panicking.
But another part felt detached, as if he were floating outside
himself somehow, and this part was still capable of critical
thinking. And the inescapable truth was that this whole becoming
a prison wife thing was one god-awfully gaudy cliche. It was
the joke guys told each other at the bar after work. It was the
threat the cops used to coerce confessions out of suspects on
the less imaginative crime dramas. It was every B movie that
had ever been made about prison life.
And it was real. God. It was happening to
"You promise to be my woman, to make
me happy, to do what I tell you and stay true?" Gus asked.
"Yes," Joseph said, softly.
His face burned with shame. Even in the dim
light, he could see Gus' huge grin.
"Good. That's real good, Sunshine. I
promise to be a good husband and take real good care of you.
You won't ever have to worry about going into that shower room
again. You're my bride, and ain't nobody fool enough to mess
with you. Now, get on over here and give your groom a kiss.
Gus pulled Joseph against him and kissed him
hard, the same overpowering assault of lips and tongue from earlier
that day, grinding his pelvis into Joseph's. In a panic, Joseph
tried to pull away, but Gus' arms were like steel bands wrapped
around his body. He couldn't move. He practically gagged on Gus'
aggressive tongue as it mined his tonsils.
Gus pressed even closer. Joseph could feel
Gus' dick throbbing against his hip. Joseph had only ever experienced
this kind of fear in nightmares, the recurring ones he had of
being anally raped by a gorilla. He'd told a therapist about
it once, and the man had told him it was perfectly normal. His
fear wasn't really about being raped. It was about feeling out
of control. Looking back on it now, Joseph realized he'd what
a big gyp that therapist had been. The guy didn't have a clue
what real terror was all about.
Eventually, Gus broke the kiss. Joseph's vision
was a little fuzzy around the edges, and he wondered if his skin
had started to turn blue. He was obviously going to have to learn
to hold his breath longer.
Gus unbuckled his own pants and took out his
cock. Joseph stared. In disbelief. In sheer fucking terror. It
wasn't possible. It wasn't human. No man had a cock that
freakishly enormous, except in his own fantasies.
"Down on your knees, Sunshine."
Joseph's lip trembled. After the oral gang
rape he'd endured in the shower room, the last thing he wanted
was to have another man's cock in his mouth. Ever. Unhappily,
it looked as if giving head was going to become a way of life
Prison Wife continued in Part
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