bd**** Posted May 18, 2025 Another long shift. Same cold concrete walls, same stale air, same filthy inmates always trying to flirt or whine their way into something extra. But today… you’re waiting for me. I see you before you see me. Standing at the bars of your cell, fingers curled around the metal like you’re clinging to a last chance. That orange jumpsuit looks even tighter today, clinging to your hips, your tits, the way you stand just a little too proud for a prisoner who knows better. When your eyes meet mine, you drop your gaze—but only for a second. You know exactly what you’re doing. And I can tell you’ve been thinking about this moment all damn day. “Cell 14,” I mutter to myself, checking my clipboard even though I already know what this is about. You've been pestering staff for the past week. Notes from the warden. Warnings from other guards. Always finding excuses to talk your way into the office, asking about extra phone time, more commissary. Now you’ve come to me. I unlock your cell and step inside. You're standing straight, hands behind your back like you're trying to look respectful. But your eyes... your eyes are filthy. Hungry. And I see that little smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. You’re nervous—but you're excited too. “Mam” I say, voice low. “You wanted to talk about a privilege request?” You nod quickly. “Yes, sir.” “Phone time?” I step closer. “Extra commissary?” “Yes, sir. I just… I wanted to speak with you privately about earning a few… extras.” “Is that right?” I cross my arms. “And what exactly do you think you have to offer me in return?” You hesitate—just for a second. Then you take a breath, square your shoulders, and look me in the eye. “Anything you want, sir.” I let that hang in the air for a moment, watching the way your chest rises and falls, how tightly your hands clench behind your back. I take another step closer, until I'm right in front of you. I can smell the nerves rolling off you. And something else too. “Anything?” You nod. “Yes, sir.” “So if I told you that I was going to use you however I want... make you crawl, make you gag, tie you down and treat you like nothing more than a personal fuckhole for my pleasure—what then?” You swallow hard, trembling just slightly. “I’d obey, sir.” “You sure about that, inmate?” You shift your weight, legs pressing together like you’re already feeling the heat between them. “Yes, sir. I’ll be good. I’ll be whatever you need me to be.” I walk behind you, slowly, circling like a predator hunting its prey. You keep your eyes forward, breathing fast, spine straight. But your hands are trembling now. You want this. You need this. And I’m going to give it to you—all of it. “Then let’s get something straight,” I say, stopping behind you. “This isn’t a favor. This isn’t some trade.” “No, sir,” you whisper. “This is you offering your body to be used. Owned. Controlled. And if I decide you’ve earned it, maybe—maybe—you get your little phone call or snack cake.” You nod. “Good girl,” I growl, the words laced with dark promise. “Now follow me.” I grab your arm—not rough, but firm—and lead you down the corridor. Inmates watch from their cells, wide-eyed, jaws slack as I take you out of gen-pop and down the hallway marked STAFF ONLY. They don’t know where you’re going. But you do. You keep quiet. Obedient. That perfect mix of nerves and excitement burning in your veins. I open the heavy door at the end of the hall. Inside is my personal office—unlocked cabinets, rein***d desk, and the cot I’ve used more than a few times on overnight shifts. You step inside and I close the door behind us with a click. Now it’s just you and me. The air goes still. I walk behind you again. Close. So close my breath brushes your ear. I can feel your shiver. “You’re going to do exactly what I say,” I whisper, low and cruel. “No questions. No hesitation. No mercy.” “Yes, sir.” “Use your safewords if you need them. Red. Yellow. Green. Say it loud and clear. If not…” I slide my hand slowly up the back of your neck. “You're mine.” You're already standing in the center of the room, just like I ordered—barefoot, hands behind your back, eyes wide and shining with need. That filthy orange jumpsuit hugs every inch of your curves, but it won’t be on for long. You know why you’re here. You’ve been aching for it. My little inmate slut, craving her punishment. “Strip.” The word slices through the silence. You obey without hesitation. The zipper comes down slow, teasing. You slide out of the jumpsuit, inch by inch, until it hits the floor. No bra. No panties. Just bare skin and desperate arousal. You’re already wet—I can see it glistening between your thighs. I grab a fistful of your hair and drag you down to your knees in front of me. “Open that pretty mouth. Show me how bad you need this cock.” You part your lips without hesitation, tongue out, eyes locked on mine like the obedient little cum-hungry whore you are. I shove my hard thick cock deep into your throat without warning, burying it down until your nose is pressed into my body. You gag hard, spit and drool spilling down your chin, coating your tits as your eyes water. But you don’t stop. You leaninto it, taking it like the filthy little fuck toy you’ve begged to be. "That's it. Take it. Let me use your throat like it’s nothing but a hole for me to fuck." I start thrusting, harder, faster. Your wet, messy sounds echo through the cell. Sloppy. Loud. Exactly how I want you. “Color?” I ask, not slowing. You barely manage to gasp, “Green,” between gags. Good girl. I grab your face with both hands and face-fuck you like I own you…because I do. You’re drooling, choking, tears streaming—and you fucking love it. I see it in your eyes. You’re high on being used. I pull out with a wet pop, and you gasp for air, spit coating your lips, your chest, your thighs. “Up,” I growl, hauling you to your feet. “On the bed. Face down. Ass up. Don’t make me repeat myself.” You scramble into position, body trembling with anticipation. I walk behind you, admiring the view—your back arched perfectly, your thighs spread wide, dripping already and untouched. I pull the rope from the wall. Thick, strong, unforgiving. I bind your ankles, pulling them wide apart, then cuff your wrists behind your back. You’re tied tight—***, exposed, completely at my mercy. “Good. Now stay the fuck still.” I don’t waste time. I grab a fistful of your hair and yank your head back. You moan, your body flexing in its bonds, and I slam the thick head of my cock between your soaked lips from behind. You scream into the mattress as I bury myself balls deep in one savage thrust. Your pussy clamps down like you’re trying to milk every drop from me already. But I’m not giving you that yet. No, I’m going to ruin you first. I fuck you deep, fast, brutal—my hips crashing against your ass, the room filling with the wet, obscene sounds of my cock using your pussy like it was made for me. You moan louder every time I bottom out. I reach underneath, fingers pressing hard against your clit, and the second I touch you, your whole body seizes. You cum instantly, a sharp cry ripping from your throat, your pussy gushing around my cock. But I don’t stop. I fuck you right through it, hard and unrelenting. You’re moaning now, broken, twitching violently as your next orgasm crashes over you. Then another. And another. Your body starts to lose control, hips jerking wildly, soaking the bed, squirting so hard it splashes down your legs and mine. I keep my hand on your clit, locked in place, and thrust harder. You sob into the sheets, screaming, drooling, gasping—but still begging for more. Your whole body shakes. Your thighs tremble. You try to pull away, but I grab your hair and yank you right back onto my cock. “You don’t fucking run from me, slut. You take it.” Your voice is wrecked, cracked from screaming, and your body convulses as the orgasms start to melt into one endless, all-consuming explosion. You’re no longer cumming in waves—your pussy just won’t stop. Every stroke pulls another moan, another gush, another twitch from your broken, blissed-out little body. I untie you and flip you over. You’re a soaked, trembling mess, but I’m nowhere near done. I shove your knees back and sink into you in missionary, driving my cock deeper than before. You scream again—louder—fingers clawing at the mattress as I pound you into it. Your pussy’s so sensitive now you can’t even breathe right. You’re just gasping, babbling nonsense, crying as the pleasure destroys every thought in your head. Your body bucks. Fights. Twitches beneath me. But your legs lock around me, holding me in, begging for more even as you’re completely fucked out. I press my hand over your mouth and fuck you harder. You go still. Eyes wide. Then you squirt again—explosively—soaking the sheets and both of us. I shift you again, grabbing the cuffs and keeping your wrists pinned behind your back as I lift you into position, riding me now, but ***. You collapse onto my chest, trembling, convulsing with every grind. “Fuck yourself on my cock. Do it.” You do. Barely. Just enough to keep moving, your body a livewire of overstimulation and mindless need. I take over again, holding your hips and slamming into you from below, watching your face twist in agony and bliss as your pussy tightens and floods all over again. I flip you to prone bone. Face buried in the mattress. I hold your hips and take you like a fucking ***. Deep. Fast. Cruel. You’re screaming into the sheets, your entire body breaking down. You're soaked. I'm soaked. The bed’s dripping. The air smells like sex and sweat and power. And you’re still cumming. Finally, I flip you one last time. Legs bent wide, hands still bound, vibrator pressed against your swollen clit while I slide into you for the final stretch. You don’t even scream anymore. You wail. Your pussy clamps down again, so hard I can barely move. You’re twitching, soaked, gone. Eyes rolling. Tears streaming. Pussy squirting as the longest orgasm yet rolls through you—no end, just one long, devastating climax that pushes you into pure, broken, submissive subspace. And I fucking love it. I pull out just before I lose it, climbing up your chest. You’re shaking, breathless, eyes dazed, mouth open. You barely whisper, “Please, Master… give it to me…” You stroke my cock over your that’s sexy slutty face. Hard. Fast. While leaning forward just enough to suck the head of my cock like you are possessed. You stare up at me, tongue out, eyes pleading, coated in your own sweat and arousal, waiting to be finished like the perfect little cum slut you are. Begging as you stroke me. I explode. Hot, thick streams shoot across your face—your lips, your cheeks, your chin. You moan, licking the corners of your mouth, swallowing every drop you can. My cock pulses in your hand as you smile through the mess, letting it drip down your throat and smear across your skin. And when I finish, you lean forward with your tongue and start cleaning me, licking every drop from my cock like the obedient little whore you’ve begged to be. I grab your face in my hands, smearing the cum across your cheeks, watching it ooze into your open mouth. “You’re my good fucking girl,” I growl, holding your jaw. “My favorite little toy. And you took every fucking drop like the perfect little fuck toy you are.” You smile, completely wrecked, blissed out, soaked head to toe. “Thank you, Master…”
Recommended Posts