Doing Time

He walked with purpose to the cell door and slid it closed. He turned to face me and prepared to demonstrate his power. I stood as loose as I could and set about having some fun. This guy was so masculine, so sure of himself, so much a bully.

He raised his guns and came at me with pace, I side stepped quickly and snapped him on the temple on the way past. He paused momentarily, as if caught off guard. I’m not sure that had happened before. He came back at speed with a left and a right, targeting my head. I ducked and smacked his kidney with a quick right as he came through. Now he was angry!

Over the next seven to eight minutes, he threw everything he had at me. One or two actually struck home but in the end, I just set about deconstructing his defenses. First, I took out his dangerous right arm. Then his left. I pounded his gut repeatedly, and corked his thighs to the point he would have trouble walking for a week.

He was dumbstruck. This was truly his first experience of meeting his match. Truth be known, it wasn’t even really a match, without bragging, the reality of the situation was that I was much better at this than he was. I left his head until last, I had such a great time. He was a good fighter and I could see why he made such grandiose statements. I snapped him on the right of his skull and then the left, I repeated the pounding, then popped him on the jaw. He dropped to the ground and remained motionless. Out cold.

I cleaned up, and took detailed notes of his “cell rules”. I didn’t want to forget a single thing he’d said. After all, he was going to be living by them from now on.

He stirred about ten minutes later and pushed himself to his feet. As if unable to compute what had happened, he came at me like a wounded bear. This time I went to town, but I made sure I didn’t knock him out. He needed to remember this. Over the next seven minutes I beat every part of his body with surgical precision, in the end I snapped his jaw, this time he was out for half an hour.

I figured I was probably at his physical limit before he’d need a doctor.

A few minutes after I’d thought that, he stirred, defensive, sure he was going to cop another hiding. I raised my guns. He begged off but I kept my arms in place and moved close.
“You sure you want me to stop, punk!”, I said in a low, serious voice. “Because you’ll be living here under my rules if I do. You know something, I think I’m going to change my rules, to your rules”

He paused, as if trying to find a way out, he was confused, but he knew what I was saying.
“Make your move punk”, he tensed, that was all I needed, I pounded his gut and kidneys as he bent to protect himself. What an excellent beast this man was, how I would play with him, how he would serve as my blank canvas.
“No, no, please, enough, please, please”. He capitulated; he was mine.

* * *

He was a barely walking mess. I told him to clean himself up and to stack my things back neatly on the shelves. I went to the gym to shower and calm down. It had been a wild ride, and I needed some space to collect my thoughts.

When I returned, he was lying on his bunk, his face clean, but showing early signs of the swelling and bruising that would come out over the next few days. I looked at him.
“You know the rules, get your gear off”

He rolled off his bed and started to remove his tee shirt. He stopped as if considering options. I moved very close.
“Here’s the deal. You do everything you’re told or I’ll drag you down to the showers and fuck you in front of everyone”. He knew he was beat. He knew that I would do exactly as I said, and he didn’t have the power or skills to stop me, a smaller, younger man.

“Do you understand?” I asked.
“Yes”.
“Yes what?”
“Yes Master”. His life changed permanently from that point forward, he removed every stitch of clothing.

 I let him sleep undisturbed at night for the next week. To ensure there was no chance of a revolt I beat him mildly but well into submission on a daily basis. The bruising let everyone know that he was my property, they kept clear. I found out later that those who had transferred from Pensworth couldn’t believe he was the same man. This further enhanced my stocks.   

I wanted to preserve his masculinity, I like fucking men, not man girls. If the tables had been turned, I would have had to sit at his lunch table and he would have taken from my tray the food he wanted. I wasn’t really interested in creating a public punk, so he sat where ever he wanted. I was conscious that if it became too well known that he was my boy, then he may become a target.

I was faced with the problem of him having to be naked whilst in the cell. To solve this, I purchased two pairs of tight jeans and instructed that whilst in the cell he would wear these, only these. One for wear, one for wash. I didn't tell him but I had no intention of replacing the jeans, so over a period of years they simply wore out> By then he had dropped off the target radar and I got to enjoy more and more skin through slowly self-destructing, never to be replaced jeans.

At the end of the first two weeks in to our living arrangement, I had him sit down and explain in great detail his exact gym program. Weights, reps, equipment, times, everything. I then measured him from top to bottom, he had a great body. I carefully recorded all his stats. When that was done, I asked if he’d like to continue to use the gym into the future. I had confined him to the cell for a fortnight so I knew that he had been contemplating a life without ever lifting a dumbbell. He was visibly excited. I said that I would consider it only on one condition. He looked hopeful.

I explained that if he wanted to use the gym, he was only ever to complete the exact program as he had just detailed. The weights, reps, and equipment had to be exactly as outlined. I said that he could continue to attend the gym but if any of his stats shifted and either direction by more than 10% his first penalty would be to lose access rights for three months. I had absolutely no interest in him getting bigger. I wanted his body to remain exactly as it currently was.

I could see that he wanted to explain to me, that the point of going to gym was to keep increasing the loads. I hadn’t granted him permission to talk so I simply asked him yes or no.

“Yes Master”

* * *

He had been adjusting to having no hair below his neck line with some discomfort, but who cared, he was well hung and I loved having him around, sort of like a nice painting.

He’d worked out that I was gay as a cricket, and I let him know that I knew he was straight. I told him mid-afternoon three weeks in we were going to fuck all night.
“I want you cleaned out and dry by lights out.” I instructed. He tensed as I waited for my acknowledgement.
“Yes Master.” It came.
“Tell me”, I asked, “is this your cherry?” Silence descended. I waited. “If you’ve done this before then I’m just going to nail you tonight, if it’s your first time then I’m going to take my time and savor your pussy.” I paused to see if he was on board. “I know which option is going to be easier on you.”
“It’s my first time” he said with his head down.
“Cleaned out and dry by eight”, I left to throw hoops.

As lock down approached, I returned to the cell after a quick shower. He was lying on the bed pretending to be asleep. I told him to get on his knees and over the next hour I instructed him on how to suck dick, exactly the way I like it. I was assembling my own custom built fuck toy.

He did pretty well, but he’d get much better with practice. I intended for him to deep throat me every time I had head, so the first thing that had to go was his gag reflex, it departed entirely about the end of week two, he was getting good at getting me off.

I had planned to start fucking him soon into our arrangement, but realised he wasn’t going anywhere. Some of the Pensworth old boys asked a lot of questions but quickly found through pain, that the subject wasn’t for public comment or gossip.

Gruller still commanded respect around the pen although his new, quieter persona confused both former allies and victims. I would from time to time plant a hicky in public view to keep the wolves at bay. Anyone who had tamed this man, was not to be messed with. I liked that.

I became aware that he must have been jacking off when I was at the gym, on those nights he would sleep more soundly. This simply wouldn’t do. I had one of the merchants find me a padlock, I was very specific about its size and weight. He complained that I was fussy and that it would take weeks, I ignored the whining, I knew what I was doing.

When the lock arrived, I tipped him an extra three sticks, he’d done well. 

Gueller accepted that I expected head morning and night as my normal ball unloading routine, he would be on his knees as I lowered my fly. As he sunk to kneel the afternoon my lock arrived, I paused and sat on my bed, he looked confused.