Part 1 of 2
It wasn't like I robbed a bank and shot someone in the process; I just took a car for a fucking joy ride. I was drunk on spring break, I wasn't going to keep it, but I did crash it up. I got arrested, tried, and convicted of auto theft and got 6 years. Sounds bad? Yes … but that was not the worst of it. You see, I was in Mexico and imprisoned in Tijuana.
Sure, my family and our lawyers tried to help and did. That's the way I got 6 years rather than 10. I fought the prison system. First, it was a tough first year, but as time passed, I just accepted it and was doing my time in the best way I could, trying to get an early release for good behavior. After three years in this shit hole, I was called into the Captain's office. Their system was that the Captain made the key decisions in running the prison. At the same time, the Warden was more of a political figurehead. So I was taken to Captain Hernandez and waited in the outer reception area with his female secretary. There I was, handcuffed, in my blue shirt uniform with black pants thinking about why I was called here, hoping it was something about my getting an early release. I had only 1 year left to serve. My record was not perfect, but I tried to settle down and adjust over time.
Finally, after hearing "Bring in John Oliver, Elaina" on her intercom, she escorted me into the Captain's office. I was in here before, and like the rest of this Mexican prison, it's a dump. The whitewashed walls had a bright orange stripe parallel to the floor and cracks everywhere. There were no nice furnishings, lamps, or rugs, just his desk, chair, and a couple of other chairs for "guests" to sit on. With no decorations, it was more like a workroom than an office for the person in charge.
Ms. Brooks ushered me in and left, closing the door. I remained standing, still handcuffed, as the Captain looked me up and down. "Stand against the wall." He said as he checked me out. I was light-skinned with thin black hair but more muscle tone than most 24-year-olds. When I was first incarcerated here, many inmates tried to put the make on me or even rape me. But they learned I was straight and a lot tougher than I looked, so they learned to leave me alone. The worst I got was a lot of name-calling, but I stopped reacting to it, and it died down.
"So, Johnny," the Captain called me "Johnny" as most guys did in here, "I've been looking over your record, and I see you have been behaving almost like a model inmate, and … I see you served 5 of your 6 years already. That allows me to give you an early release date, like shaving 6 months or more. So, what do you think about that?" Oddly, the Captain spoke English with no Mexican accent. Inmates know the Captain's story. Although a Mexican citizen, he grew up and was educated in Florida. The story is that he started his career working for the Miami police department, which he did for years. Apparently, he abruptly returned to the safety of Tijuana after an investigation was opened to look into his role in sexual crimes. So he is here.
"Sir, that would be wonderful. Thank you, Sir. So … I could leave here in a few months? My God that would be great. I miss my family and my girlfriend, my home, so much. …When exactly would I leave, Sir?" I asked, most politely.
"Hold on there. I said you behaved 'almost' perfectly. I see in your record that you had that scuffle 2 years back in the cafeteria, and your previous record shows you were … well … not very cooperative. That caused your visitors and mail to be curtailed as punishment." The Captain said calmly, knowing he caught me off guard.
"Sir, that wasn't my fault. I wasn't even …." my voice trailed off as I just heard something I was unaware of. "You mean … I thought … my family was not visiting because they didn't want to. You're telling me … they were not allowed? I could have had my girl here to visit?" It hit me like a bombshell. This was all news to me. "… and I have mail too? … From Martha?"
"Yes, on both counts. But rules are rules. Your misbehavior back then is costing you dearly now. ….’course, with your improved record … I could ease up on those restrictions. … But, well, Johnny … you'd have to do a little something for me." Without hesitation, I nodded my head with eagerness.
"That's great, Johnny. You see, I keep hearing that you're a cute sexy little stud, and your skin is so smooth and silky. I just want to see you naked now. But I'm not going to force you."
I was so stunned I took an involuntary step backward. "But, Sir, I'm not gay. I have a wonderful girlfriend; we plan to marry when I leave. She told me that in my first year here before I stopped receiving mail. I mean, she is so pure. She's still a virgin, so … I can't… do anything like that. I never do anything gay. So, I can't take my clothes off. Okay? Sir?”
The Captain knew he was holding all the cards. "Of course, I understand completely. That's your right." He paused and added, "Married? That's sweet. You'll make a nice couple. I saw the photos she sent to you a few months ago. 'Course, we had to retain those because you were on restrictions. … But, yes, you'll make a handsome couple."
"Sir? Do you mean … you'll show me the photos if I remove my clothes? And you'd commute my sentences too?" I had tears in my eyes. I didn't know anything about any options or rules or who could really do what.
"Hold on, boy, first things first. Yes, you strip, and I'll show you those photos. But no more arguments. Is that clear, Johnny? Stand against the wall, and remove your clothes … if you want to ..." The Captain came over to me.
I nodded. I thought to myself. I get naked in the showers. Can't be that big of a deal. I removed my shoes and socks, unzipped my pants, and let them fall to my knees. The Captain stopped me there with my pants and underwear halfway down. He stopped in front of me and grabbed my naked dick and balls, and examined them closely. He remained in that position for some time, pulling and manhandling me as if I was a pet animal. He was enjoying himself. Then the Caption wanted me to continue to strip. It was a little difficult with the handcuffs still on, but I managed to do it to a point, but then he removed my cuffs so I could strip fully. I unbuttoned my uniform shirt and dropped it on my pants then pulled my white tee up and over my head. Now all my clothes were on the floor except for the white boxers I was still wearing.
"May I see the photos now, my Captain, of Martha?" I pleaded softly. But the Captain said nothing. He didn't even make a gesture. I knew what he was waiting for, so I lowered my underwear and stepped out of them, topping the messy pile of my clothes. I was so completely embarrassed. This is much different from being naked in the showers. I felt filthy and sleazy. "Now, may I see them, my sweet Captain?"
"It does take you a while to comply, doesn't it, boy? But … yes, you may see them. I always keep my word. First, let's get your pile of stinky clothes off my nice clean floor." He took his key ring from his belt and reached out to hand it to me, holding one particular key. "Here, take this, pick up your clothes, including your shoes, and take them over to that cabinet." It looked like a basic file cabinet; I did as he said. Then he added, "Open the bottom drawer, put all your clothes in there, and close the drawer, then use my key to lock it." And again, I did exactly as he told me.
I returned to stand in front of the Captain's desk and returned his keys. I felt the most vulnerable I have felt since I entered this scuzzy prison. I didn't even have the false sense of security of looking down and seeing my clothes on the floor. They were gone … locked up. There was now only naked me, with nothing.
"Nice. Now, Johnny. Here are the photos of your beautiful Martha." He took them out of an envelope and handed them to me. I was so nervous and anxious that I practically tore them out of his hand. I didn't notice, but that put a smile on his face. Without asking if I could sit down, I just collapsed in the chair behind me and feasted my eyes on the first of 3 photos, looking at all the detail and muttering, "Oh thank you, sir, thank you," but never taking my eyes from that top image. It has been a long time since I saw any photos of her, read any of her mail, or saw anything from anyone in my family. I even forgot about being naked.
"I could not help to notice she sent you a nude of her. She must be sort of a slut, hey Johnny?" Immediately, I found the nude photo, and she was so beautiful. It was an artsy pose that didn't show her private parts, but it angered me that the Captain and other staff members looked at it. "Yeah, look at those big cow-titties, Johnny. God, I'll bet you loved to suck those juicy, perky udders, hey Johnny?" I tried to keep my cool, but he was getting under my skin. How dare he call my sweet love a slut and a cow! Oh god, how I wanted to yell, "Shut the fuck up, you goddamn asshole!!"… but I pretended not to be bothered. You do a lot of that in prison.
"You can see how your bitch has her hand over her cunt. She doesn't want you to see how swollen her fuck cave is from being worked over by so many men so often. I'll bet she gets on her knees in the gutters and begs to be fucked. Hey Johnny? But don't you worry. She's not just any whore. She's your whore. And I'm sure when you get back to her in 1 or 2 more years, she'll be ready to stop all those tramps from banging her and fucking her up the ass. Right? Johnny? I mean. I don't want to put words in your mouth, but … ain't I right?" I could not say anything. I was near tears at how the Captain was badmouthing my sweet bride. I didn't even hear him when he said 1 or 2 more years; I was in another world of joyful images and memories.
"I suppose you want to read her letter too, the one accompanying these photos?"
"Letter? I asked, now displaying a smile.
" Well, of course, she wouldn't just mail you photos, you asshole. Of course, she wrote a letter and described her feelings about you. My God, it must be 4 pages. Sorry, we must read all mail sent to you; it's our unpleasant job when guys are on mail restrictions. She writes a lot about …. well, I see there is no need to tell you what's in the letter since you are obviously not interested in her."
"What! Sir?! Please! Yes. Please, may I read her letter? Oh God, please." I pleaded loudly, not thinking who outside the doors could hear me.
"Johnny Oliver. Look at you, you're sitting there, looking at your cunt bride-to-be, fingering her hairy pussy hole, knowing God knows who's been up there, and you don't even have a boner. Now, I kept my word, as I always do. You stripped naked, and I showed you your pig whore's photos. So, that's it. So it's back to your cell." I could not believe this. Was he shitting me?
"Let's get these cuffs back on you for your journey to your cellmates." He ratcheted them back on. I was so close to reading her letter. Fucking shit! This can't be happening! I was trying to think quickly how I could get that letter.
"But my clothes? I can't go back naked and cuffed? And … the letter. Please, Sir, the letter. Martha's precious letter." He ignored me. But then paused and seemed to reconsider.
From yesterday: John Oliver was a handsome, hardworking college kid caught joyriding in a car while on Spring break in Tijuana, Mexico. He was just blowing off steam after drinking too much. He had served 5 years of his 6-year prison sentence when he was suddenly called to the Warden's office. The Warden was simply referred to as "the Captain." He had a sadistic soul you would not believe. Every horror story you've heard about Mexican prisons is true. They are shit holes, especially for Americans who often lack access to human dignity or human rights. Mr. John Oliver, or Johnny, as the Captain called him, was brought to the Warden's office in handcuffs. The security guard was dismissed. There, alone with Johnny, the Captain removed the cuffs and told the prisoner to strip naked. He tricked Johnny into obeying because he told the prisoner that if he obeyed, he would get to read some of his mail from his soon-to-be-wed girlfriend, Martha. Johnny was shocked to hear he had mail. He was never given any mail during his last 4 years, and worst, he was told he relieved none.
God, how his face lit up with surprise and joy when the Captain showed him a couple of photos Martha had sent him. One was even an artsy nude of her. But now, he was told there was also a letter. How he hungered to hear from his beloved Martha. Johnny would do anything to get information from any of his family, especially since he was told they had all abandoned him. When you cut off all outside communications, you can manipulate a prisoner to believe anything you want. Johnny was repeatedly informed that no one had even contacted him in this case. He felt alone and abandoned. But now, he learned of letters and photos!
"Oh, Johnny, … well … since you are here and naked, at least I can check you out to see if you are staying healthy, get back against the wall again, spread your legs. That's right. Now place your hands higher on the wall. That's a good white boy." Then he told me to turn this way and that way. He fondled every part of my naked body as if he was playing doctor or something.
"Please, Sir? You said I could read my letter. If you let me read the letter, I promise to cooperate for as long as I am in this prison. Please, my Captain." As much as it reviled Johnny inside, he'd begged, using terms of endearment, "Please, my sweet Captain."
I don't know if this was planned out, but the Captain looked like he had given in. He removed the cuffs and told me to sit in the chair. "Look, kid, you can either do this my way and be rewarded, or you can do it your way and… well, … you'll be in our facilities for quite a while." Then the Captain returned to his desk, picked up the letter written on green paper, and sat facing me in his chair. He scanned the letter from Martha. "Look, Johnny, you can't still be interested in what she says here about marrying you and that bit about your kid brother needing you desperately and … Well … it can't mean anything to you if you're lying about your feelings for … for … Martha."
"Sir, I'm not lying. She means everything to me. I'm telling the truth. May I please read that letter, my sweet Captain?" I pleaded.
"Now, Johnny boy, don't get upset. … I'll tell you what. Since I kept my bargain on the first deal, where you voluntarily stripped naked, and I gave you her photos to see, .… I'll make you a second deal. You get an erection as you look at those photos, and tell me what you really think of her, then I'll give you this letter from your cow-sow sweetie. Deal?" I could not believe him. I'm supposed to beat my dick in front of him? The Warden?! He in his full dress uniform, less his coat, and me totally naked? Fucking shit! … I could not speak; I just looked down at the floor. And my eyes became glossy again.
"Johnny, it's just us. Just be honest. You say you love her, so show it. Tell me what she is to you. Go on before I send you back to your cell and destroy this letter. Your choice, Johnny."
I don't know what I was thinking; I looked at my dick and saw that my hand was already on it, rubbing it and pulling on the soft fleshy, lifeless appendage. I had her nude photo in my right hand and was working my dick in my left. "That's it, Johnny, spread your knees wide apart. Let me see that lady killer fuck pole grow to its full potential. That's it, bitch boy." I don't know why I'm doing this. I haven't had sex for a long time. I saw myself starting to get bigger and longer and harder. Fuck, it did feel good.
"You see? I guess you do love her. Now complete the bargain and tell me what a fat sow she is and how she likes to suck big fat dicks everywhere she goes, no matter what kind of creepy filthy slob wants to fuck her, how she eagerly strips naked and gets on her hands and knees. Maybe she gets 2 or 3 sleazeballs to plug all her whore holes. Let me hear you get honest for the first time in your relationship, Johnny."
I stopped. My mouth fell open in shock, the photos dropped on the floor, my dick went limp, and I angrily shook my head. "No, no, never, she's not like that. She's not. She's wonderful. I told myself. She's a wonderful, loving Christian." I saw the Captain take his cigarette lighter out of his pocket, flick it a few times to get it to flame, and then bring it over to the hand holding Martha's letter.
"I'm going to count to 10, and if your dick is not stiff again, and if I don't start hearing the truth from your cock-sucking Martha, … this goes up in flames, and you can kiss your early release goodbye. One … two … three … four ….”
I was pounding my dick as fast as I could, trying to get it up again. There was absolutely nothing erotic about what the Captain was saying or doing or wanting me to do. It was all sick. He was a sick fuck hole. But I needed to read Martha's letter to survive, to regain my sanity and humanity. It started working. "See, my sweet Captain, I'm doing it. Just like you want. No need to burn it."
"We’ll see. But, … lean forward and stick your right finger up your asshole. Wiggle it. Doing that may prevent you from getting an expanded sentence here. That’s it. See, your dick is getting nice and firm, and … and … look at that, Johnny, wow … it’s now like a steel pole, isn’t it bitch. Such white, slutty trash you are. Must run in the family. But … I’m waiting to hear the truth. Johnny, keep pulling that dick and finger fucking your asshole, and start talking to me.” Then the Captain continued his count very slowly, “Five… six … seven …. eight … nine …”
“I love my sweet pussy slut, Sir. She’s a big fat cow whore, and she likes to get fucked up the ass by the attendant when she goes to the gas station, and when she goes to the mall, she finds 3 or 4 guys in the back loading docks, and she lets, … no, … she BEGS them to let her suck them off. She is nothing but a fucked up bitch cunt slut, and she even eats out guys’ asses, my sweet Captain, sir. Just like you said.” I was talking as fast as I could and saying the most disgusting things I could possibly imagine. All lies, but I have to play along to get her letter and not have extra time added to my sentence and to get this disgusting ordeal over with.
“Don’t stop, Johnny, keep that dick happy and my ears pleased. Tell me, does she like to drink guys’ piss too? What’s her favorite piss flavor? White guys’ or black guys’ or … I’ll bet it’s Mexican piss, … right Johnny?”
“Yes, Sir, my honorable Captain, you guessed it. She loves macho manly Mexican piss. Loves to swallow it. She guzzles it down like Champagne.” I learned to just agree and repeat all the Captain’s suggestions. I was sweating and gasping, and I needed to cum so bad I wanted to shoot my cum all over his fucking face. I guess he knew I was close to climax because my chest was heaving, and I was gasping for quick breaths.
“Hold on there, Johnny, you’ve convinced me. Just stop pumping that shotgun boner before you make a mess in here and all over yourself. How would you explain that to your cellmates… going back there all naked with fuck snot all over your chest and face? Geez! … So don’t cum. Just edge yourself so you stay hard. Take your finger out of your ass and suck it clean.” I did. “That’s a shit-eating faggot, and just stay hard as I talk to you. But easy on the trigger, there.”
I did as he told me, including cleaning the shit off my finger. When I stuck my finger in my mouth, I broke down and cried. I could not help it. All those mean, ugly things I just said about my saintly Martha. Oh god, I said to myself, I am so sorry. And he made me lick the shit off my finger. Tears flowed out as I continued to play gently with my stiff dick.
“Okay, Johnny, now I’m going to keep my word. Here’s the letter.” I finally stopped playing with my dick and reached out to get the green paper note, but the Captain pulled his hand back. “No, no, no, John Oliver. You must read the letter as you continue playing with your doggy bone. If it goes soft, just a little, I take the letter back and destroy it. Plus … you have to read it out loud to me. Am I clear, boy?”
“Please, Sir. Oh, my sweet Captain, can’t I just take it back to my cell and ...” The Captain flashed me such a stern look I knew he meant business.
“Yes, Sir, my honorable Captain,” I said, again working on my dick and keeping myself on edge. The Captain nodded in approval as he handed me the letter again. “Dear Johnny,” I read aloud, “I miss you so much. I miss your warm tender kisses and …”
“Stop!” The Captain yelled abruptly. “Your dick is not staying hard. I want it stiff. Do it now.” There was anger in the Captain’s voice, but was it a pretend anger? Was it all a part of his sadistic mind-control fucking games? I started to beat my dick more and move my hips in some synchronized jerkiness, working up a sweat and a hard dick, then the Captain motioned for me to continue.
” … your warm tender kisses, and your loving hugs and embraces. You mean so much to …” I continued to read as I held the letter in my right hand and continued my controlled, methodical rubbing and teasing of my dick with my left hand. I was so humiliated…
Stop!” The Captain yelled abruptly. “Your dick is not staying hard. I want it to rock hard. Do it now. Or you cannot read your fucking love letter from your slut girlfriend!” There was anger in the Captain’s voice, but was it a pretend anger? Was it all a part of his sadistic mind-control fucking games? I started to beat my dick more and move my hips in some synchronized jerkiness, working up a sweat and a hard dick, then the Captain motioned for me to continue.
” … your warm tender kisses, and your loving hugs and embraces. You mean so much to …” I continued to read as I held the letter in my right hand and continued my controlled, methodical rubbing and teasing of my dick with my left hand. I was humiliated but hungry for Martha’s loving, comforting words. I’d do anything to be allowed to read her letter. And I did. The Captain smiled and obviously enjoyed watching “his fag boy” beat his meat to keep his boner as stiff as he, the Captain, wanted it to be. My dick even dripped some precum in the process as I was holding myself on the lingering verge, just short of climax.
Imprisoned in Mexico
Part 2 of 2
When the letter was finished, I was exhausted and humiliated. My hand was still teasing my dick, as if it was obeying the Captain, without any conscious effort on my part. I looked into the Captain’s smiling face, and I felt completely used, like his slut toy for his amusement, waiting for his all-consequential approval.
“That was great, Johnny. I know it was an emotional letter. And, true to my word, you may keep it.” Unbeknownst to me (I discovered much later), the Captain was keeping some 20 letters sent to me from Martha and my family members, all of which would serve as his future afternoon entertainment whenever he wanted to enjoy humiliating his American slut-hole inmate.
“Thank you, sir,” I said with complete exhaustion. “My clothes? Please?” I asked as I stopped crying, thankful his ordeal was over and I’d be escorted back to my cell. I’d enjoy the comfort of re-reading this letter again and again in private.
“Of course, my boy, but … you don’t want to read the letter from Michael? Well, .. okay, no problem Johnny, not an issue…”
"What! I have a letter from my baby brother!"
“My brother wrote me too?” For the second time after entering the Warden’s shitty office, I had a wide-eyed smile and once again gave “the Captain,” as he was called, my undivided attention. You see, I was imprisoned in Tijuana for taking a car for a joyride while on Spring break. It was all fun, but the Mexican government did not see it that way. I’m now serving the 5th year of my 6-year sentence. The Captain has me in his office, naked. He is toying with me. All my mail was withheld for the last 4 years, and now, I am just finding out that my girl and my family have been sending me letters and photos. This sadistic, fuck-up Warden wants to extract every ounce of my dignity before giving me even a single letter.
“Yeah, he did, … a few times. Such a sweet kid. Sorry, we must read everything restricted inmates like you receive. After reading all his mail to you, I guess he’s your kid brother, several years younger than you? What, … 16 or 17? Right?” I simply said, “18,” but uttered nothing else. I was just listening to every word about my little brother. “Yeah, and I understand. You are like his mentor. He really looks up to you, doesn’t he?” I nodded, wondering where this was going. “I like the part where he writes about how you kept him out of trouble and, with you guys having no dad around, well, I can see that he not only thinks of you as his nurturing older brother, but he has come to depend on your being there for him. Isn’t that right, Johnny?” I nodded again, drinking in every word of news about Michael.
“Yeah, well, he’s not only concerned about what is happening to you, he’s scared shitless about what will happen to him if you don’t come home soon. I take it that he’s not too bright. In one letter, he asks for your advice and help about quitting school, and then he said something shocking … well … I guess that’s too personal for me to dwell on. You can read it for yourself. Or …”
“Or? Or … what, Sir? Where is Michael’s letter?” I asked, now standing. Still naked, of course, though my erection subsided.
“Or, … would you prefer to just see him, now? He’s in an adjacent room, right through that door. Gosh, he is scared and worried. Such a sweet little bubble butt twink brother you have who looks up to you for guidance and help and love. He must respect you like a god. Well, you really got one little cutie there, John Oliver.”
“You mean Michael is really here, and I can see him now? Oh god! Oh, fuck yes! Please, please, Sir, please let me dress and go to him. I can’t wait to see him. Oh, thank you, my sweet Captain!” Johnny has learned over his incarceration to use terms of endearment when addressing prison authorities.
“Well, of course, he’s here. Guess he came by bus. And yes, Johnny, you can see him. But I want you to continue to please me. That’s the only way you can see him and the only way you will earn a reduced sentence. So .. here’s the third deal we will make. You know I kept my word twice before. So, when you go through that door, you will remain as naked as you are now.”
Johnny immediately started shaking his head and mumbling, “No, please, no, not in front of Michael. He worships me. He’s only 18. Even at that, he’s not very street-wise. He’s always leaning on me for support and stuff. He respects me. He admires me. I’m his big strong older brother. Oh, please, Sir. I’ll do anything but that. Oh please, my dear, sweet Captain. My most precious, honorable Captain. Oh, please.”
“Johnny, I told you not to argue with me. Here I am, trying to help you out and reduce your time, and you can’t even give me this little tiny teeny thank-you gift? Well … okay … I have always told you I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. That’s only fair.” The Captain pushed the intercom on his desk and spoke clearly to his secretary, “Elaina? Tell Michael Oliver that his brother has chosen, once again, not to see him and that there is no need for him to return in the future or even write to his brother ever again … ”
“Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God,” Johnny mumbled in near hysteria. He’d die if he could not see his troubled baby brother. He had no choice. “I’ll do it, I’ll do as you say, I’ve got to see Michael, oh God….” I was trying not to cry again as I pleaded to be allowed to see my kid brother. “I’ll do as you say. I’ll be naked, whatever the fuck you want of me. Yes, fucking yes, I’ll do it.”
After canceling his request to his secretary, the Captain addressed me again, “Okay, John Oliver, okay. Calm down. And to help you keep a little dignity, I will let you go into that room alone, so I won’t be there; I’ll just be you and him.
I interrupted the Captain with my appreciation, “Oh, thank you, my sweet Captain, thank you for allowing me that dignity in front of my brother.”
“However,” the Captain continued, “there is a closed-circuit TV system in there, and with this monitor on my desk, I will be watching your every action. So I will know if you lose your erection in there.”
“Erection?” … I asked, scrunching up in a puzzled frown? “Erection? In front of my little brother? Oh god.”
I felt woozy from my mental images of Michael seeing me like that. I grabbed for the back of the chair for stability, feeling weak-kneed. The Captain gave me a few moments to absorb his sadistic requirement mentally by saying nothing. But my mind was abuzz with thoughts. I could say “no” and skip out on this one and only visit with my little, scared brother. But I may never see him again. I don’t have a fucking clue when I will be released. I don’t know anything for sure. What if it’s longer than 1 more year. No, no … I can’t pass this opportunity that’s staring me in the face! I can do this, I must do it, I must. After battling my thoughts, I looked at the Captain and said, “Yes, Sir. I’m ready to see my brother, Sir.”
“Well, soon, but not yet. Seems like your dick is not … er … saluting me yet.” The Captain joked. “So as soon as your flagpole is up ‘there,’ I’ll show you to that room.” It didn’t take long. The Captain has had me on the verge of climax, on and off, for over an hour now. I’ve wanted to climax since he forced me to get the first erection. He continued, “Yes, there you go. Now … the rule is that you will do whatever is necessary to maintain an erection in front of your baby brother. If your dick even starts to go down, I’ll come in, take you out and end your visit immediately. You can have 30 minutes with your baby brother under these rules. There’s a clock on the wall in there, so you will know when your time is ending.”
He paused, and I waited for more requirements. Just as I thought, he had more to say, ”Since I like to watch a lot of erotic drama on my little, closed circuit TV here,” He pointed to the monitor on his desk. He turned it to face me, and for the first time in 5 years, I could actually see Michael. He was leaning against one wall. Fuck, how he has grown. I still think of him as being a 14-years old kid.
“I’ll make it more interesting, Johnny. If, during that 30-minute time limit, you somehow, … and I don’t care how, … get your cute little sissy twink bro to take over the handling of your dick and keep it hard for you, I’ll allow your visit to go on as long as he keeps your dick hard. It’s up to you. I’m not going to force you to have him do fag stuff. I mean, … if you want more time with your sweet, straight-laced, manly baby brother, you have to turn him into your personal faggot pussy boy and encourage him to play with big bro’s stud meat. That's the deal. Do you accept?"
The Captain was getting caught up expanding his twisted manipulations as he added, “‘course if his touching your dick is too high a price to pay for you to spend, maybe, … a couple of hours together … well, it’s your call. All I see on this monitor is one adorable, lovable, and frightened kid who needs you more than anyone else.”
I was in a mental haze visualizing how all this would go. How would I get my 18-year-old brother to play with my dick? Just tell him the truth? That the Captain is a sadistic queer making me stay naked and requiring my brother to touch me? All the while, I kept staring at the little color monitor and watching my brother pick his nose. He is so cute. Yes, I would do it. The Captain interrupted my thoughts again.
“Okay, now that the rules are clear, go ahead and work up that nice big boner for your soon-to-be faggot brother. When you enter that room, you’ll notice, as you did on the monitor, that there are no tables or chairs. The room is totally empty, so you can’t hide your dick from your brother or any part of your naked body from the 3 cameras in there. You and Michael will both be standing.” I was aggressively petting my dick. This time it was easier to get and hold an erection.
“That’s just dandy, Johnny. Michael will just love playing with his big brother’s fuck meat. Oh, by the way, there are two other rules: You can’t mention any of my rules, such as that you must have a boner. This has to come across as all your idea. Make up your own story. I don’t fucking care. Just be creative. You can’t tell him anything about me, except, … it would be nice if you just said I was a good and fair Captain. And how fair and kind I am to you and all inmates. Yes, say that a couple of times.”
I was playing with my now hard dick and thinking of lies to tell Michael, who has, at times, the maturity of a 10-year-old. Maybe he’ll believe that this is part of a stupid joke or that it’s part of a bet with my cellmates. Or ... or perhaps he might buy that I have to have an erection for medical reasons. I was tossing around all kinds of strange ideas. Then I remembered what the Captain said, there were TWO additional rules, “So, Captain, Sir? What is the other rule you wanted to mention?”
“Oh, yes, that. Well, Johnny, … and I'm sure it is the last and most interesting part. If you get your little twink sweet-lipped baby brother to suck you off and swallow your load, totally, …. I’ll remove 8 months off your sentence, so your last year here will be reduced to only 4 months. And … since I have faith in you, … “ The Captain pushed the intercom button again, “Elaina, would you prepare an official eight-month sentence reduction form for Mr. John Oliver? Thanks.” The Captain released the button and stared at me most seriously, “Now, Johnny, whether I sign that or not depends on what I see happening on my monitor.”
After weighing all the factors in his mind, all the rights and wrongs, Johnny made the decision that he would do whatever it took to get himself out of this hell hole as soon as humanly possible, including … seducing his precious little brother to be his fagot cock sucker. Into the room he went, naked and carefully massaging his hard tool, to the shock of his brother Michael.
The video made during the full two-hour “loving brothers” session, as the Captain called it, was enjoyed innumerable times by the Captain. However, other than the Captain, the video was shown only to one other person, Johnny. Upon leaving that room and saying goodbye to his now confused, cock-sucking baby brother, the Captain invited him to sit and watch the video.
“I can’t believe I did that, but … thank you, Sir, for letting me visit with my brother,” Johnny said with disgust and embarrassment, with a now spent, deflated hanging dick. “I did all you asked.” Johnny now teared up. “Will you keep your word, my honorable Captain, and reduce my sentence by eight months so I will be released in four months?”
“Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, sit down.” The Captain said as he adjusted the video monitor to be viewable to the defeated, drained, naked inmate. First, let’s see how well you did, shall we?” The Captain pressed the play button. Johnny watched and heard himself and his brother and, of course, knew what he would be seeing.
There was naked Johnny in the room, beating his meat, and his brother Michael in shock. “Oh, Michael, don’t mind me being naked and playing with my dick. It’s just a habit one develops in prison here. It doesn’t mean nothing.”
“The warden makes you do this?!”
“No, Michael, no. The Warden is the kindest, the fairest man you could ever meet. He treats me so great. Actually, I’m the one who is the disappointment because I am starved for sex. I must have developed some degenerate issue with sex, so much so that I must stay naked for hours and play with my big dick.” Johnny tried to sound convincing and serious but was seeping tears too. “The warden has tried to help me, but the prison doctor says it’s best to allow me to act out all I need, and this obsession with my dick will eventually disappear.”
“Michael, it is so wonderful that the Warden is so understanding and allows me this special treatment. He knows this is best for me, so he kindly looks the other way and lets me fondle my dick as the urge overtakes me, hoping my intense, discussing desires will soon leave me.” He broke down in tears, and Michael was getting scared too, so worried about his brother’s sex addiction.” He let out more tears of embarrassment and humiliation and apologized profusely to his brother, saying he was so sorry to be doing this in front of him.
“John, please, don’t feel sad. I understand. It’s a sickness. It’ll pass. What can I do to help?”
“Oh, Michael. I have cramps in my hands from rubbing my dick for hours, could you …. could you … you ….” Johnny just could not get himself to say it. Michael only responded, “What?”
“Michael, could you… you … could you … please rub my dick for me? I need to let my hand rest, just for a moment.” He sounded sincere and asked with great hesitation. “Don’t worry, it’s just the two of us. No one will ever know. I just need to let my hand stop yet have my dick fully erect. I know it sounds stupid, but … but …” Michael said nothing, just swallowed and put out his hand as Johnny let go and he took over.
“How is that? Am I doing it right?” Johnny told him to go slower, easier. He did not want to mention that he needed not to climax yet, at least not climax this way. So he just told him it would feel better if he rubbed him more gently. “Okay, like this? Is this better, John?” John just moaned in agreement.
It was difficult for Johnny to concentrate on their conversation as his brother played with his huge, stiff, and now leaking boner, edging him so lightly, never stopping. But little by little, they conversed. Johnny was filled in about Martha, his parents, and other family members. Apparently, Michael’s problem issues were not serious. The time went by quickly, and Johnny needed to get his brother to suck his dick in order for the Captain to reduce his sentence. It was all for the amusement of the Captain. Johnny had been thinking how he would get his sweet innocent brother to do this faggot sex act. His 2-hour limit was nearly up.
“Michael. Thank you for helping me out. I feel so embarrassed but also so relieved that you have the courage and love for me that you would give me needed sexual pleasure. Doc says that it’s all part of the cure. I just need to be allowed to receive sexual pleasure in particular erotic ways.” Michael listened to his big brother and, of course, believed everything he was saying. He felt good to help him out, even if it was in this uncomfortable sexual way. It was the least he could do for his big bro.
“Michael, I am embarrassed to ask, but my time with you is almost up, and I need another favor from you. I must climax now. Will you help me to do this?” His brother said yes. After all, he had already been rubbing his dick for 2 hours. Watching him climax would not be a big deal now.
“The thing is, as the doc here says, I need to have a higher level of pleasure, not just a hand job. I need oral sex.” There was a dead silence. Michael was just not ready for that, not even for the brother who had been so supportive all during his growing up. “If I go back to my cell, I’d have to figure out how to ask a cellmate to suck my dick. Oh, God. I just can’t. I can’t. They might even beat the crap out of me for asking. Johnny started to sincerely sob out loud. He could not control himself. His Captain needed to see this kid brother suck him off, and he felt so ashamed to go along with the Captain's sadistic and cruel wishes, all in hopes of getting a reduced sentence. He really did not want to have his brother do such an unnatural sex act for a straight man. They were both straight. He cried so loud he did not even hear his brother trying to get his attention.
“John, … John, … please stop crying. I can’t stand it. Please.” Johnny stopped and wiped his eyes. He listened to his brother. “John, can I just put my mouth on your dick and let you shoot and then spit it out?”
“You would do that for me? Oh god. How did I ever deserve you? Yes, you can spit it out.” Of course, that was a lie. His deal with the Captain was that his brother had to swallow every drop of his cum. But getting his brother to suck his dick was a good start. “Sure, just let me come in your mouth and then spit it out.”
Michael got down on his knees and placed Johnny’s hard, dripping dick in his mouth.
It felt bizarre, but it would soon be over. That dick was now on a hair trigger. Johnny did not wait. He simply grabbed the back of Michael’s head and shoved his dick deep into the opening of his brother’s open throat. Michael tried to pull away, but Johnny pumped his hips, and one … two … three … he blasted his huge pent-up load, volley after volley, down his brother’s throat. Of course, Michael struggled, gasped, and choked, but Johnny got the full load down. Johnny apologized, saying he just lost control. Finally, it was over. Mission completed. Michael was confused and shaken by the experience but just wanted to leave, trying not to pass judgment. Michael left without speaking, and Johnny returned to the Captain’s office. Unfortunately, Johnny didn’t realize that the Captain would not be just watching. He would be videotaping the entire scene. The resulting video showed inmate Johnny tricking his baby brother into forced sex. That tape was filled with Johnny’s disgusting, degenerate, and illegal sexual activities, coercing his brother into doing it all. And to the Captain’s delight, it captured Johnny complimenting the Captain on his fairness and kindness to all inmates. That thought brought a chuckle to the Captain’s face.
The Caption turned off the video monitor they both were watching, looked up at Johnny’s flush face, and said, “Do you want me to send this video to your folks, or would you prefer to sign a confession that you committed aggravated sexual assault on your sweet, innocent baby brother.” Johnny saw the full tape, which looked like he raped his brother, and like it was all his doing. Johnny could only nod yes, that he would sign anything.
That tape would serve as the basis for adding 10 years to John Oliver’s sentence. The Captain did not trick Johnny out of dislike for him. No, the Captain orchestrated this entire scheme because he wanted his sexy inmate play-toy around to enjoy for many, many more years.
The End
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