By PrisonCub

If sitting in the little cage was part of a plan to scare the living shit out of me, it was working.  The room had ten of these fucking little cages.  No windows that I could see.  Florescent lights mounted to the ceiling and of course one was failing so the thing was flickering and humming.  I just sat there in stiff prison denim and restraints.

My shirt was soaked in sweat and the inside of my coat felt damp.  Since my head had been shaved, perspiration was beading up and running down my temples into my eyes.  The stupid prison-issued cap was too big and kept slipping forward and was now over my eyebrows.  The restraint belt wouldn’t give me enough play to reach the cap.

[[WARNING: This story contains extreme elements that some readers might find objectionable. Continue reading at your own risk.]]

I have no idea how long it was that I sat there.  I shifted my ass back and forth and tried to find a position of comfort.  Finally, I heard a door open across the room and four uniformed guards walked in.  These guys were not fucking around and they marched directly to my cage.  The dickhead guard that had squeezed my balls and cock on the ride to the State Penitentiary was standing in front.  Each guard was dressed in an identical khaki uniform.  These uniforms were designed to not only to feed these pricks’ egos but were meant to be intimidating to the inmates.  The shirts had brass pins on the collar shaped into an SP for State Penitentiary.  Epaulettes on each shoulder made these guys look incredibly broad-shouldered.  Above each pocket was a sewn-on badge and the State flag.  Each had on a black tie.  The pants were tight-fitting with a black stripe running down each leg.  They had duty belts of black leather that held pepper spray, stun gun, keys and handcuffs.  They wore black polished work boots. I sat there sweating my ass of in prison denim.  The chains held did their job restraining me from nearly any movement.  I sat there half pissed and half scared shitless waiting for one of them to speak.

The lead guard spoke first and made clear how things were going to go from the beginning: “You are inmate X97478.  The inmate has been condemned to death for capital murder.  There are rules at this institution and the inmate will obey all of them.  Punishment for disobedience is swift and severe.  The inmate is entering the Classification and Diagnostic Unit.  The inmate will follow the instructions of the guards at all times.   The inmate has four rights and no privileges at this institution. The inmate has the right to food, clothing, shelter and medical care.  Food is provided to the inmate on a daily basis:  4:30 am, 11 a.m., and 3:30 p.m.  Clothing is the uniform that is issued at intake.  Shelter is the cell that is assigned to you.  Medical care is at the discretion of the Warden.  The inmate will be escorted in full restraints whenever outside the assigned cell. The inmate will answer either YES SIR or NO SIR to any question or order.  You may speak only when questioned by a Corrections Officer or given specific permission.   Do you understand the rules as I have explained them?”

“Yes Sir,” I said without hesitating.  I will admit that at that moment I knew that I was truly considered less than human.  I still had pride and ego, but I knew that everyone at this place considered me evil and dangerous and unworthy of life.

“X97478, stand and face the back of the holding cage.”  I complied with his order immediately.  “The restraints will be removed.  Remain standing in the center of the cage until an order is received.”

“Yes Sir,” I again replied quickly.

Two of the guards walked to either side of the cage.  One drew his stun gun and pointed it directly at me.  The second unsnapped a can of pepper mace from his duty belt and held it at his side.  Both men exchanged glances and stepped further back from the sides of the cage.  It dawned on me that they didn’t want to be in each other’s line of fire in case I fucked up.  Clever bastards!  The padlock holding the door clicked open.  The third guard walked up behind me and whispered in my ear.  “So help me if the inmate twitches a muscle and gets me covered in mace or stunned, X97478 will become my special project.”  The third guard reached up under the denim of the prison coat I was wearing and stroked my ass.  He ran his finger down the seam of my denim prison pants along the crease made by my ass crack.  Neither of the other guards seemed to notice the sick fucker do this.  I knew that I was just a piece of meat.   The restraints were removed quickly and the next order was to fold my arm across my chest and spread my feet shoulder width apart.  This destabilized me just enough to reduce the risk of turning and attacking.  I heard the click of the padlock.

“Strip naked, X97478.  Place the uniform on the shelf and wait for the next order.”

I stripped down quickly and placed the pieces of the uniform in a pile.  I stood naked with my back to the guards, including that perverted fucker who now had a perfect shot of my ass.

“Place both hands on top of your head, fingers interlaced and palms up.  Take two steps backward and stop.  Remain in the position until instructed to move.”

Once again the two guards with the stun gun and mace stood a few feet back from me.

I started giving the guards names.  Pervert Guard walked up and placed a 5” wide leather belt around my waist.  The belt consisted of a pair of handcuffs mounted to a ring of metal that was riveted through the leather in front.  The guard yanked the belt tight around me and buckled it behind my back.  I heard a padlock snap into place and felt a thick chain running down between my legs.  Ankle irons were secured with a ratcheting snap around my bare ankles.

“Turn around, X97478.”

And now comes my first screw-up.  I just fucking stood there.  Maybe I was tired.  I don’t know, but I had only heard that number a few times and forgot that I had to respond to it.

“Turn the fuck around, X97478!” pervert guard shouted.

I realized my mistake and quickly turned around.  My hands were locked into the handcuffs on the leather belt.  Once I was secure, Pervert Guard again walked up behind me and whispered in my ear, “That will cost you, X97478.  I have something special for faggots like you.”

Mace Guard and Stun Gun Guard returned their “weapons” to their holsters and each took hold of an arm.  I was escorted across the room to a metal door.  Stenciled on the door was DIAGNOSTIC AND CLASSIFICATION DEPARTMENT.  The door was unlocked and I walked naked and chained into the next room.  I was marched up to what looked like an oak teacher’s desk.  In front of the desk, two foot-shaped stencils had been painted in white on the bare concrete floor.  A white painted line went off to the right from the foot stencil to a barred door and beyond I could see a room with just a bunch of denim clad inmates and some bunk beds.  To the left was another white line.  This one led to a solid metal door with a sheet metal sign that had SHU/DR embossed on it.  SHU? What the fuck does SHU mean?  DR?  Death Row?  Fuck!  I knew which direction I was heading.

“Inmate will place feet on the stencils.”

A little tug on my arms encouraged me to do so.  The guard behind the desk opened up a file and read it briefly.  His lips moved as he read it.  All I could think of was that this “ignorant hick” was an idiot.  My mind assigned him the name Idiot Guard.  The folder was made of green cardboard.  I could see a lot of type written pages with court stamps.  A picture of me before my head had been shaved was stapled to the folder.  He put the folder back on the desk and leaned forward.

“We have some shit to do before we get the inmate all tucked in, but, I can assure you, the inmate will be confined to Death Row before night.”

“Really mother fuck?  Really?  What a fucking Einstein you are.  Fuck you!”  My head was spinning.  All I wanted to do was puke.  I had the start of a migraine headache.  I struggled against the restraints.  My head throbbed.  The fluorescent lights were flickering, and it was painful to look at them.  The nausea was coming in waves now.  I started to lose feeling in my feet.

 

DEATH ROW

 

I was guided over to the solid door and a buzzer and click indicated that a lock had been opened.   A voice from the speaker said, “Segregated Housing Unit.”  The Pervert Guard answered “Death Row.”  The door opened to reveal a concrete block room painted yellow.  Not yellow like a little old ladies kitchen, but a fucking nasty ass institutional shade of puke yellow.  The concrete floor was painted jail gray and had a worn path in several directions.  The door shut behind us with a solid click, and I was standing naked in the intake room.  I had no chance to do anything.  The restraints were removed and I was dragged to a wall across the room.  My hands were cuffed in front of me in handcuffs that had a connecting chain with a large, metal ring in the center. A chain dangling from what looked like a boat trailer winch was mounted to the ceiling.  The chain hanging from the ceiling was padlocked to the metal ring of the handcuffs.  I heard a clicking sound and the winch started to yank my cuffed hands up towards the ceiling.  It kept going until I was barely standing on my toes.

Pervert Guard walked over and pulled the belt off of his uniform pants.  He put it around my thighs, pulled it tight and buckled it.  He held up what looked like a pledge paddle from my fraternity days.  Except this one had holes drilled in the flat portion.  He walked behind me with that damn thing and ran the edge up and down my ass crack.  He then shoved it between my legs and rubbed my inner thighs with it.  Then without a word he began paddling my ass.  Those holes were obviously for aerodynamics because that fucking thing met no air resistance.  Hit after hit came crashing down on my ass.  Every 5th hit, the fucking bastard would stop and rub my beet-red ass.  Then it would start again.  After 6 rounds of hits, I began to scream.

“You breeder mother fucker,” I yelled.  “Beat the shit out of a guy that is chained up.  You are a real man aren’t you?  I bet you get off on this don’t you?  I bet you are the biggest closet queer in this place!”

Of course, that pissed him off and the hits grew harder and harder.  I looked back at him.  He was sweating from his face and armpits.  His face was bright red and his eyes were lifeless.  I could see nothing but pure rage.  I felt the room spinning and the blood drain from my head.

Stun Guard called out for him to stop.  He delivered one last hit and backed off.  “Give me that fucking thing,” Stun Guard said, and took the paddle out of Pervert Guard’s hands.  “We have a lot of real work to get done before we get the inmate locked up.  “Get the fuck out of here.  Now!  And settle down before someone sees you like this.”

I hung there with the metal cuffs biting into my wrists.  My ass was throbbing with every heartbeat.  My head was still pounding.   All I could think of was S.H.U, the damn stencil on the door. What in the fuck did that mean?  They all left the room with me hanging there.  But, within minutes they returned carrying a laundry bag with STATE PENITENTIARY  X97478 stenciled on the side.  The winch was reversed and I was brought down to a standing position.  My legs went out from under me and I found myself sprawled on the concrete floor.

“Get up, inmate!” Mace Guard said.

The chain connecting the cuffs to the winch was removed, but the handcuffs were left on.  I tried to stand but the belt was still around my legs and I fell back to the floor.  “Shit, the belt is still buckled!”  Mace Guard pulled off the belt around my legs and threw it across the room.

“We are going to perform a body scan for contraband.  The inmate will be shaved and showered.  Understood?”

“Yes Sir,” I mumbled.

“Try to relax a little, Jack” the Stun Guard said.  Jack?  Jack?  He just called me by my name.  Did he mean Jack like Jack-off or Jack wagon? Did this mean something?  I made eye contact with him.

“Eyes forward, X97478!”  I immediately became a condemned prisoner again.

The door opened and two men in crisp white coveralls entered the room.  The coveralls had TRUSTEE stenciled down the leg and a prisoner number over the left pocket.  The first trustee walked up to me and began looking me over.  He ran his surgically gloved hands across the brown stubble on my head.  He put his hand firmly on my chin and turned my head from left to right.  A light was shined in each ear, up my nostrils and in each eye.  He opened my mouth and moved my tongue around with a tongue depressor.  I gagged a little when it went back too far.  He raised my hands above my head and checked my armpits.  He lifted each foot and felt between each toe.  It fucking tickled but I fought back the urge to even smile.  He felt every inch of my skin.

“Saved my favorite part for last, pretty boy,” were the only words he ever spoke to me.  His gloved finger shot right up my ass.  He hit my prostate like a pro and I sported an erection within seconds!  He pulled his finger out of my ass and grabbed my cock and nut sack and twirled them around.  He turned to the guard and advised him the I was “clean!”  He walked out the door.

I was not expecting what happened next.  They took me over to what looked like the electric chair.  I was forced into the seat.  A strap was placed across my chest and tightened.  My legs were strapped into harnesses at the base of the chair.  The cuffs were removed and each arm was strapped to the arms of the chair.  I was screaming in fear at this point.

“Would you calm the fuck down, spastic boy!” the Mace Guard said.  Nothing was going to do that and I struggled against the straps.  A web belt like a car seat belt was pulled across my lap and buckled.  Then my biceps were secured.  Finally a leather strap was placed around my neck and I could not move.

The Stun Guard walked around to the front of the chair and grabbed each of my hands.

“X97478,” he said, “the chair scans your body like an x-ray for any contraband you may have shoved up your ass or swallowed.”  I heard a brief hum and then everything went quiet.  “That was it.  Done.  Well, almost done.  This is also a barber’s chair.  Most inmates don’t come in as polished up as you, but you still need a good cleanup.”

My legs were spread apart by the mechanism of the chair.  The second trustee walked over with a pair of shears with a zero blade.  The vibrating instrument was put up to my restrained head and the stubble began to fall.  Then my chest, armpits and crotch hair was shaved off.  I sported an erection right away.  I had always had a little fetish for bondage but this was stupid.  I could not make that cock of mine settle down.  The trustee barber found it quite funny that my cock was hard and kept touching the vibrating razor to my dick.  I nearly blew my wad across the room.  But the son of a bitch was just edging me.  He stopped just as the first drop of pre cum came out of me.

When he had finished, leg irons were placed around my ankles.  My arms were released from the chair and handcuffs locked my wrists in front.  Finally all the straps were released and I stood up.

“Shower is over there.  Get used to taking showers while you are cuffed up.”

I walked over to the shower and entered the tiled room.  A cell door was closed and locked behind me.

“Get going,” the guard said, and I lathered up with the soap that was in the dispenser.  My ass burned where the soap touched the reddened skin from the whipping.  My eyes stung also.  The soap was obviously designed to kill any bugs that I had on me.

“Get every crack, X97478,” the guard said.

When I was done, the water flowed stronger for about a minute and I was quickly rinsed.  The cell door opened and I stepped out of the shower.

No fucking towel.  No fucking shoes.  The handcuffs were removed.

“Put this on,” the Mace Guard said.  He handed me an institutional chambray shirt that was obviously new and 2 sizes too big.  “Button the collar and cuffs, X97478.”

He forced my hands back into the handcuffs and I was walked over to the wall.  The classic mug shot background with lines drawn for measuring height was painted on the concrete wall.  “Face forward and stand still.”  A metal plate was hung on me with a chain around my neck.  The chain looked like one of those bead chains that you use to turn on a cheap light fixture in your basement.  The identification sign was basically a license plate and I guessed that the signs were made in a prison factory.  Holy fuck!  The old movies with inmates making license plate were true!  The background of the identification sign was black enamel paint and the lettering was white.  The prisoner ID number and the date could be changed.  The rest was permanent raised letters.

X 9 7 4 7 8

STATE PENITENTIARY

RECEIVED 02/02/15 – DEATH ROW

No one would ever know that I had on no pants and was shackled.  The picture was from the mid-chest up.  The camera snapped several photos.

“Turn to your left.”

The camera snapped.

“Turn to your right.”

Again the camera snapped.

The handcuffs were removed.

“Take the shirt off and hang it on the hook next to you.”

I was handcuffed again in front.

“Your preliminary intake process is now complete. Pick up your prison issue and follow me.”  The laundry bag with my number was thrown at me.  I caught the bag and then dropped it. Never was a fucking athlete, I thought to myself.

I assessed my situation in the brief time it took for the guards to begin ushering me across the room.  I was stark naked.  Hands cuffed in front and leg irons on my ankles.  I was carrying a white twill bag with a number on it and walking across a cold concrete floor toward a barred door.

“Stop and wait for orders,” a new guard said.

I saw that painted above the barred door was DEATH ROW CELL BLOCK A in black.  The bars on the door were painted gray.  A wire mesh was welded to the inside of the bars.  No one could reach through the bars, but air could flow.  The cell door opened to reveal a long corridor.  It was the same nasty yellow as the previous room but the concrete floor was bare and stained with a worn sealer coat on it.  To my left were windows that were at least eight feet off the floor.  The windows were only a foot tall and 2 feet wide.  They were barred and had the same mesh welded to the inside.  Fluorescent lights connected by conduit ran down the length of the hallway.  To the right were cells.  They had barred doors painted gray also.  A food slot with a shelf was cut into each door.  The slot was only 6” tall.  I counted 8 cells, then a solid metal door that apparently accessed a utility corridor.  A barred cell door accessed a shower room.  I counted another 8 cells.  The poured concrete wall that separated each cell extended beyond the front surface of the bars for each cell.  It essentially blocked off the line of sight from each cell up and down the cellblock and also stopped any communication between the cells.

I walked naked and chained down the hall of death row.  A guard had hold of my right bicep while one led and one followed behind.  Each cell had a number stenciled on the concrete above it from 1 to 16.  Behind some of the barred cell doors stood an almost invisible figure.  The thick metal mesh that covered the entry door and the windows also was welded to the inside of the cell door.  I counted 8 convicts and I guessed that I was 9.  All were in blue prison denim.  All of their heads shaved and all were standing at their cell doors with their hands on top of their heads. Each door had a metal plate about 2” x 3” with a credit card sized piece of laminated paper slid into top and bottom slots.  Each cell down the row had a white card.  Each had a number similar to mine.  X97332 / Murder.   X97004 / Rape.  X97005 / Murder.  X97086 / Murder.

A cell door slid back in its track.  The guard placed a card with X97478 / Murder into the slot.

“Welcome to Death Row,” my guard announced.  “Place the laundry bag inside the cell.”  I did so.  A metal folding chair was placed beside me.  “Kneel on the chair.” Again, I complied.  “The leg irons will be removed.”  I felt them being uncuffed from my ankles.  “Stand up and face the cell.”  I noticed that a track was imbedded in the concrete floor.  “Step one foot beyond the threshold of the cell and wait for the cell door to close and lock.”  I stepped forward into the cell.  Immediately the cell door slid shut behind me and locked.  “Place hands through the opening.  When the left cuff is removed, place that hand on the head.  When the right cuff is released step one step further into the cell.”  I complied.

“Turn around and face me, X97478.  Inside that bag is a prison issued uniform, toiletries, Bible and Death Row Rules and Regulations. Read the regulations immediately.”

The guard shook the cell door to confirm it was locked and walked back down the corridor.

I was now alone in my cell.  The cell was 5 paces wide and 9 paces deep.  The ceiling was low and was only about 6 ½ feet tall.  There was a metal shelf that extended from the wall.  A 2” thick mattress coated in green plastic was folded in half on the shelf.  A thin pillow covered in the same green plastic sat on top of the mattress.  A metal sink toilet combination was mounted to the wall.  There was no toilet seat, no mirror mounted to the ugly yellow walls, just a single button that when pushed flushed the toilet and turned on the sink water for 10 seconds.  That was it.

I looked out into the corridor and directly into a concrete wall.  The windows high on the wall allowed in light but everything outside was obstructed.  The light was fading and so it must be sunset.  There was not light source inside my cell and it was lit only by the corridor lights.  I flipped open the mattress and sat down.  I was naked in a death row cell at the state penitentiary.  I was nothing but a number.  I started to shake, and tears came to my eyes.  I walked over to the toilet and kneeled down on the floor.  Whatever was in my stomach came out in a violent spasm of puke.  I flushed the toilet and tried to get water from the sink.  It shut off before I could reach it.  I sat down on the concrete floor and put my head and back against the cell wall.

My head was still pounding.  Somewhere through the headache fog I thought, Segregated Housing Unit.  S.H.U.  What a dumb fuck I was.

I must have fallen asleep sitting on the floor.  The sound of a toilet flushing in a cell down the row woke me up.  I stood up and realized that I was freezing.  I opened up the laundry bag and dumped the contents on my cot.  The rule book was only 8 pages long.  Most of the rules in it were obvious and easy enough to remember.  The last line of the booklet instructed me to place the booklet on the shelf of the food and handcuff port.  The guard would remove it, as I was not allowed to keep anything but the Bible in my cell.

The bible was to be placed under the cot.  I put it there.  The inmate was allowed no underpants, t-shirt or socks.  None were found in my laundry bag.  The inmate is issued 3 shirts and 3 pants.  One set is to be worn, one is exchanged when the first set is dirty and one is retained to wear on execution day, during death watch and execution.  My God, what cold fuckers to tell a man what he will wear when he is executed?

The uniform shirt and pants will be worn at all times.  If a coat or other item is needed, one will be issued to the inmate.  Nothing may be kept in the cell with the exception of those items in this bag.

I pulled out the blue chambray shirt.  It was pressed and folded, so I shook it out and unbuttoned it.  I put the shirt on and buttoned the sleeve cuffs.  The buttons were white plastic and the buttonholes were stiff.  I buttoned the shirt all the way up and then buttoned the collar button.  X97478 was stenciled on the right side of the shirt above the chest pocket.  On the back, my number was again stenciled in larger font.  Below my number was stenciled State Penitentiary Death Row. The stencil was in black.  Dark blue denim pants were next.  My number was stenciled across the ass of the pants and also on the waistband in white.  A white stripe went down the outside of each pant leg.  State Penitentiary Death Row was stenciled in black onto the white fabric.   The fly and waist were fastened with dark blue plastic buttons.  No belt loops on these pants.  I tucked my shirt in and buttoned up the pants.  I rolled up the cuffs and sat down on the cot.  Next a pair of black canvas deck shoes went on my feet.

A few toiletries were placed near the sink and my job was done.  I sat in the fading light of dusk.  The cell was dark and I lay back on the cot to rest and closed my eyes.  Sleep came quickly.  I woke to the sound of the hallway cell door opening.  I noticed that the rulebook was gone.  In its place was a plastic tray.  Oatmeal was in one section of the tray.  A carton of orange juice and a carton of milk were on the tray but the tops were cut off so the contents were exposed.  There was also some fruit cocktail.  I ate the contents of my tray and returned it to the shelf per the instruction booklet.

I unbuttoned the collar of my shirt and started the water in the sink.  I barely got the institutional toothbrush damp before the water stopped. I brushed my teeth with shitty tasting tooth powder. I washed my face with my hands and dried them with a disposable towel.  The instruction booklet advised that I was to also use the towel as toilet paper and then flush it when totally soiled.  The toilets had what amounted to a garbage disposal attached down the pipe.  It stopped any contraband from being transferred from cell to cell and destroyed anything that could plug a toilet.  I heard the guard walking by to pick up trays.

“Stand up and face the front of your cell, X97478.  Button your collar and place your hands on top of your head.  Rule 12, 31 and 7 violations!”

I buttoned my collar and walked to the front of the cell.  I placed my hands on my head.

“I am sorry about that, Sir,” I said without thinking.

“Rule violation 9. Excellent start of the day, convict!” was all the guard said.

When he had passed I put my hands down and sat down on the cot.  I left my collar buttoned.  The rules said that the convict would shave once a day, would be showered twice a week and would have his head shaved every other week.  No exceptions.  And thus started the routine that I followed for the first month.  I saw no other inmate.  No one spoke including the guards.  It was terrifying.  Toilets flushing and cell doors sliding shut along with an occasional quote from the rule book were the mainstays of my existence.

 

MY FIRST EXECUTION

 

About midnight on what I assumed was a May night, a guard appeared at my cell door.

“Stand up, turn around and place your hands through the cuff port, X97478.”  My hands were cuffed behind my back.

“Take two steps forward and wait for instructions.”

I complied and heard my cell door open.  I was told to kneel on the cot and leg irons were locked around my ankles.

“Sit down on your cot and wait.”

I sat down.  Within a minute, a man in a dark suit was standing at my cell door.  The cell door slid open and he casually sat down on my bunk.

“I am the warden of this institution, X97478.  I am going to give you a special little preview of your own hanging.”

I squirmed in the handcuffs.  The warden put his hand on my crotch and began to massage up and down.  “You see, you get to watch tonight’s hanging.  I want you to know in detail what is going to happen to you.  I want to see you get horny as the poor son of a bitch is dragged to the gallows.  I want to see you shake as the noose is tightened and the murdering fuck’s neck is broken in the same way your neck will break.  Are you ready for the show?”

I said nothing.

Then the horrible sobbing and wailing began.  It was in a cell at the far end of the cellblock.  The guards surrounded me and the warden led me down to the condemned man’s cell.  I was turned to face the man and ordered to watch.  The two guards remained and held me firmly.  The third guard had his hand on my head so that I could not turn away.

The inmate was of course dressed just like me except in the denims that had been reserved for his hanging on the first day he arrived.  He had on no shoes.  His shirt was tucked in and his collar was buttoned.  X97202 was stenciled on his uniform.  No orders were spoken to him.  He screamed “no” over and over as the cell door slid open and 6 guards entered the tiny cell.  He was maybe 23 years old.  Thin and shockingly pale.  His sweating, shaved head gleamed in the florescent lighting.  A horrible leather harness was produced and was buckled onto his torso.  Black leather straps with buckles held the restraint in place.  It had straps like bib overalls that went over the shoulders and were riveted onto a waist belt in the back.  The guards snugged the contraption onto him and adjusted the buckles for tightness.  The guards tugged on the belts to test them and his whole body moved.  His hands were then brought to his sides and strapped with two straps that were mounted onto the waist belt.  They were so tightly cinched that his hands were turning red.  A strap was fitted around his arms at the elbows and pulled tight forcing out his chest.  His feet were bare and were locked in leg irons.

He was breathing nearly 45 times a minute while the death warrant was read.

“James Tyler Brandt, you have been sentenced to be hanged by the neck until you are dead for the crime of murder in the first degree.  Do you have anything to say before sentence is carried out?”

He kept fighting the guards and the straps.  He was forced out of the cell and down the cellblock.  He struggled and screamed louder with every step.  All of the other seven condemned were standing at attention, heads shaved, collars buttoned silently at attention as he was dragged down the cellblock.  I followed in this sick death march.  The door at the end of the cellblock opened and we all were ushered into a brightly lit room.  I was brought in and seated in a folding chair.  The guards were all around the condemned man and another set around me.

“Somebody please.  Please God don’t let me die like this.  My God Please!” he shouted as he was walked over to a square painted on the floor of the room.

“Again, X97202, do you have a last statement?”

“My name is Jim, you worthless prick.  My name is Jim, and I didn’t do anything to deserve this.  I have no idea why you are hanging me, but you are going to burn in Hell someday for doing … !”

A guard came up behind X97202 and pinched his nostrils together.  When the condemned opened his mouth to breath, a gag was placed into his mouth.  A leather belt was attached to the gag and was secured behind his head.

The warden said, “Thank you for a final statement, X97202.  It is a pleasure that I can record for posterity when the condemned admits guilt prior to execution.  The sentence will now be carried out.”

I watched as the front of the condemned man’s prison pants started to tent out.  His erection became enormous.  His screams were muffled as he was led to the gallows.  He was turned and placed on a painted square in the center of the room.  A hemp rope hung from an eyebolt in the ceiling.  The noose was not what I had pictured in my mind.  It had a ring through which the rope passed to make a loop and a leather covering was over the noose.  The convict continued to struggle as his legs were brought together.  Two leather belts were fastened above the knees and near the ankles even though the leg irons were left on.  A black hood was brought down over the struggling man’s shaved head and the noose placed over the top of it.  The ring assembly was brought up under his left ear and tightened.  Two of the guards continued to hold him upright on the painted square.

The man’s erection was now throbbing under the denim of his prison pants.  The bag over his head was billowing in and out with each breath.  His knees were shaking and his hands were constantly clenching in the leather straps.  Sobs came from beneath the hood.

My cock was now coming to life.  It had slowly grown throughout this ordeal and now all I wanted to do was to masturbate.  That thought was interrupted by the trap door of the gallows suddenly crashing open. The condemned man’s body hurled through the hole and stopped abruptly at the end of the rope. The man’s chest was about even with the floor  and the struggle began.  His hips arched forward and his pants dampened as he pissed himself.  His hands clenched and grasped at the air.  He was trying to kick free of the leather straps and leg irons that held his legs.  After several hip thrusts, white cum shot out between the buttons of his fly.  His body twisted around once on the rope revealing his nice ass distorting his prison number on his pants.  His struggles slowed.

I had a raging hard-on now, and my pants were tenting out also.  My guards stood me up and started leading me back to my cell.  I struggled to see if the man was dead.  The guards kept pushing me forward.  When I entered the death row corridor, a guard had already packed up the hanged man’s remaining prison issue and was carrying them out in a his laundry bag.  The inmate in the cell adjoining mine had his hands on his head with his collar buttoned.  But, he was kneeling on the floor of his cell saying a prayer.  I could only see a shadow of him because of the wire mesh, but he looked vaguely familiar.

I glanced over to see that my cell door was slid open and the identification card was gone.  The cell appeared empty.  Every step rubbed the denim of my pants on my cock.  I was marched to the hanged man’s cell, where I saw my ID card had replaced his.

“We will leave you in those irons overnight,” the guard told me.

I was thrown face down onto the dead man’s cot.  With that, the cell door closed and I was left chained and terrified on my cot.  My thighs instinctively started to rhythmically move as I pressed my cock into the mattress.  I worked my rigid cock for several minutes until a voice in the corridor said, “no masturbation!”

I just lay there quietly until I head the main cell door lock.  I pressed my cock deeply into that mattress.  I thought about my boyfriend’s hairy ass and his pink hole.  I pictured the dead man’s erect cock.  I thought about sucking that cock and then felt guilty, as if I had betrayed my boyfriend.  I thought about my impending death.  I came with a huge shudder.  The orgasm lasted through several more thrusts.  My prison pants were soaked with cum as my cock went soft and drifted off to sleep.

 

VISITATION

 

I must have lain on that cot all night.  The morning was usual with the sounds of cell doors and a food cart rolling down the cellblock.  When the cart got to my cell, the guard ordered me to “wake up and get on your feet.”  It was almost impossible with all of the restraints still in place.  When I was on my feet, the chains and cuffs were removed in the usual way.  This time, however, the guard stood over me while I ate my breakfast from the tray.

“Come on, X97478, I need you to hurry up.”  When I finished, the tray was removed.

Over the time that I had been at the penitentiary, the denim of my uniforms had started to soften and fade with industrial laundry.  The stenciling was still distinct and the denim was solid, but they were no longer stiff and indigo blue.  Even though I was changed out every week, I got to know which of the two uniforms was which.  Today, I was ordered to strip down and turn in my shirt and pants.  I stood naked as the guard walked away with my denims.  This going to sound stupid, but to a man who has literally nothing in the world, this feels like a robbery. I stood with my hands dutifully on top of my head.  When the guard returned he was carrying a new pair of denims.  The word VISITATION was stenciled down the denim pant leg and across the back of the shirt.  They were a large size and hung off of my body as I put them on.  They were the same as my regular uniform but without my prisoner number or the leg stripe.  I was handed an unlined denim chore coat.  It had a white bulls-eye stenciled on the back.  I put the coat on and looked questioningly at the guard.  He picked up my question and said, “Bulls-eye is for the sharpshooter to aim at and follow across the prison yard.”

Oh my fucking God!  I had been given a coat with a target!  I buttoned up the metal buttons on the coat.  They were difficult because the buttonholes were stiff.  When I was dressed, the guard stepped in and put the leather restraint belt around my waist.  He secured my wrists into handcuffs hooked to the belt.  Leg irons were locked around my ankles and I was escorted out of my cell.  I walked down the corridor and into the room where I had been processed for intake.  I was turned and walked through a door and into the prison yard.  The sun was so bright and unfamiliar to me that it caused me to squint.  Not one convict was in the yard and the guards and I walked alone across the worn grass and weeds to a building on the far side of the prison yard.

The building was made of the same granite as the rest of the penitentiary.  The door was painted black but had a window of shatterproof glass with imbedded wire mesh.  The sound of a buzzer and the door was opened.  We walked into a bright room with a reception window.  A guard sat behind the window and said, “Inmate number?”

The guard handed over a piece of paper that apparently gave us entry because a door to the side of the reception window buzzed and we walked through.  The door locked behind us, and the warden was standing in front of me!

“Your attorney has requested a meeting with you to discuss your case.  You may freely discuss anything with your attorney except this institution and its rules.”

 

To be continued …