CO Jeremy Spreadums is at the mercy of inmates Sebastian Keys and Brodie Ramirez after he falls asleep on the job. They gag and handcuff him, edge his cock and fuck him with his own baton.
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By Hunter Perez
(The final chapter to the story)
It was dark by the time Patterson came scurrying across the courtyard with a bright lantern in one hand and an oversized ring packed with keys in the other. He was huffing and puffing in tremendous movements and paused for a minute at the base of the pillory to catch his breath. I feared he would collapse before ending my imprisonment, but he caught his second wind and quickly freed me. He asked about my physical well-being before handing me a small silver flask which he said contained brandy.
“Strictly for medicinal purposes, of course,” he added. “You never catch a cold with brandy.”
Patterson was apologetic that he did not arrive earlier, explaining that an emergency arose within the prison that required all on-duty guards. In our walk back to the cottage, Patterson provided an excruciatingly in-depth recollection of the emergency, giving violently graphic details to the bloodied injuries that several brawling prisoners inflicted on each other. By the time we reached the fence outside of the cottage, Patterson exhausted his gory story and paused for healthy sip of his “medicinal” brandy with the assurance that it helps rebuild strength and courage.
By Hunter Perez
Holmgren slowly lifted the glass from the desk and vigorously sipped its whiskey content, keeping his foul gaze at me while he consumed the drink. I stood at door and tried to consider how I would respond to this new predicament.
I assumed I would be facing an evening’s worth of abuse – certainly verbal and probably physical. Having my wrists tightly handcuffed behind my back offered a painful reminder of who was the alpha in this encounter. If Holmgren was drunk or on the verge of inebriation, then I didn’t know what to expect – he was erratic while sober, and whiskey would certainly make a crazy situation worse. Patterson’s behavior outside of the room only preyed on my apprehension – how many other prisoners came before me to experience Holmgren’s whiskey-soaked wrath?
By Hunter Perez
“Are you comfortable back there?” Nicky asked through the mesh separating the front of the police car from the back.
“Not really,” I responded. “I assume I’m not supposed to be.”
“You got that right,” he laughed.
I wasn’t quite certain how I should be feeling. Sitting with arms handcuffed behind your back creates a multiple number of issues, which are not helped by being nearly immobilized with a tight seatbelt. I kept shifting sideways and trying to inch forward, but I could never find the right position where I didn’t feel pressure in some part of my body.
Part of me was angry at the stupidity of thinking with my dick – whatever pleasure that was sparked by allowing myself to be handcuffed was erased by the discomfort of my inability to get into a relaxed position.
Yet at the same time, part of me was aroused by the absurdity of the situation. Nicky turned into a truly gorgeous specimen of masculinity, made all the more exciting by his law enforcement authority. Being his prisoner, if only for a brief period of amusement, created a sense of excitement that was truly arousing – perhaps too arousing, as I was also dealing with an erection pushing against my jeans.
I remembered the time back in college when Nicky had me handcuff him so he could service me while I controlled him. I wondered if that was what he had in mind by turning tables in this manner. I then began to recall some stories I read by the writer Joshua Ryan where guys get tricked by sexy cops and correctional officers into getting arrested and sent to prison – those stories seemed so wild in concept, but now I could see how someone could fall victim to such chicanery.
Holden Phillips gets handcuffed, tased, gang fucked and pissed on as he services a bathroom full of cock
In a crowded bathroom, a group of horny men await as pain pig Holden Phillips is brought in to service the crowd. Everyone takes their turn groping the captive as he’s passed around. On his knees he starts putting his mouth to work, finding every cock he can and making sure it’s rock hard. The guys each take him into a stall for their own personal use, beating his ass red before bending him over for a hard fucking. They hold him down and pull on his balls till he screams for mercy, but there’s no mercy, they give his cock and balls a taste of the taser to teach him a lesson. The crowd then breaks off a toilet seat and turns Holden into a human self-servicing toilet. With the seat around his head the guys each fuck both his holes and douse him with cum and piss like the toilet whore he is.
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At Brutal Tops, Dave and Maurice team up again to humiliate a feeble nameless sub in a public park. Confused people walk past the horny threesome as the cute prisoner is abducted by the snarling duo. The stripped guy is humiliated as the Masters forcibly explore his arsehole with their fingers and a dildo. Then snarling Master Dave attaches pegs to his pubes and barks in the runt’s face to humiliate him even more. Bewildered members of the public watch as the sub parades around revealing his pert arse and stripped body, fully exposed.
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By Cuffsandcops
One of my most enjoyble summer activities has been going to the gym at different times of the day. It has been fun to observe and interact with new people. I noticed a guy who was present at the gym no matter what time in the day I decided to go quite often over the past month or so. He always wears a shirt with an American flag on its shoulder and some reference to the military. His face is always clean shaven. He has tattoos up and down his arms and legs. He is a little shorter and smaller than I am. Based on his appearance, I assume he is a soldier of some kind.
Today I was back to hitting the gym during the dinner rush which is my typical time. I noticed that the gentleman described above was also there. After a great session, I entered the locker room to collect my belongings. The suspected soldier was putting his stuff into a bag right next to the locker I had used. I gave him time to close his bag before moving to my locker. I swapped my sneakers, put my earbuds away, and grabbed my keys. I had parked on the opposite side of the gym compared to normal due to the high volume of cars on the entrance side. I walked out the door and noticed the suspected soldier standing on the corner of the building pulling on his vape.
By Joshua Ryan
That afternoon I collapsed on my bunk and began to think. I thought about what a fool that counselor was and about how he must be wrong, how he must have been talking to some imaginary Steven Meres who was going to spend his life in prison. I thought about how much I hated him for saying those terrible words to me, and how many things I’d like to do to show him that I had a life and he didn’t. Every time I looked down at the childish orange clothes they’d put me in, I saw how much he and “the institution” had on their side.
But … I needed to come to my senses. After all, I was there to write a book. I should be remembering my observations, collecting my story descriptions … I tried, but I couldn’t focus on that. It all seemed like thoughts in some other person’s mind, the mind of somebody who wasn’t locked in a steel box.
On the morning of the seventh day I was cuffed and taken out of my box and marched to the end of the big hallway, where there was a door that led to a loading dock. Standing on the dock was a cage with bars on its top and all four sides. It was a very large cage, and I was put into it with about 80 other prisoners. The officer who put me in pointed to a small steel toilet next to the bars. “You need to use the can, use it now. You’re goin on the chain bus.”
