A New World
I awoke feeling strange, and sore. My throat ached, my jaw muscles ached worse, and a burning tingle pulsed through my ass; the sort one gets after a good workout. It was clenching around the large silicone plug that still held firm. I was on the bottom bunk, and neither Rod - nor my clothes - were anywhere to be seen.
“Bitch” a voice came suddenly from above. It was Rod - my master. He clambered down from the top bunk - he was naked. I couldn’t help but devour his body with my eyes. It was something to behold. A smooth, shining complexion of a deep burnt umber with a shaved head and the shadow of a goatee. His body rippled with muscle, abs, perfectly symmetrical, were proudly above a taut pubis with a subtle vein in the center running straight downward. Curly black hairs - the only hair besides that on his face - framed his incredible cock, which even in its dormant state still dwarfed any dick I’d ever seen. At least any dick I’d ever seen on a white guy. His skin was clear - which surprised me. I assumed most if not almost all inmates would have a tattoo or a piercing somewhere. He grabbed a green towel from his bunk and secured it around his waist, his cock forming a large fold in front.
“Shower time.” he said finally, snapping me out of my trance. I looked around with concern. I didn’t have a towel, or soap, or sandals or anything. Rod saw my expression.
“Don’t worry baby boy.” he said. “I got you here. You’ll see how it works soon enough.” Before I could say anything. He stooped down and slid his arms underneath me, scooping me up, before he slung me over his shoulder. I was still completely naked and my dick pressed against his firm black chest, while my bare ass with a large plug in the center faced forward for all the world to see. He stepped into his flip flops and I heard the cell door open; it was apparently controlled electronically from the guard room in the center. Then as soon as we were clear of the cell, Rod grabbed me by the hips and swung me around, handling me like I was a doll, and placed me in a sitting position on his opposite shoulder, clamping down on my thigh with his powerful forearm. The plug pressed itself into me and I yelped a little as I adjusted. It sent those little waves of warmth through me every step Rod took. I leaked a little as I was finally able to look around at the general population for the first time.
The broad cell block stood two storeys. Spiral staircases at one end connected them, with a landing in the center where the windowed guard booth was. There were picnic table style tables and chairs spaced evenly down the floor at which a few inmates were playing cards, writing, or chatting. Many were in their cells and the closest were a few clearly headed for the showers. A lot of the other inmates looked straight at us as we came out, but they didn’t treat it like the spectacle I thought it was. I did notice that just about all of them were black, there were one or two latinos I thought, but the only white guys I saw were right in front of me - and they were accompanied as I was in very particular ways. One of them appeared to be wearing a collar, to which a short leash was attached, and it was being firmly held by a large black man in a towel. The one in the collar looked about my age if not younger, and besides the collar, they were wearing a nearly identical plug to the one inside of me, and a pair of flip flops, and a pair of hoop earrings I noticed. Not large ones, but blue and pretty. There was another man, much taller than any of the others and very slim, who was being followed by yet another plugged inmate, this one on their hands and knees. They were more mature than the other and had grown their hair out long and apparently dyed it while on the inside. It was a shade of purple like grape flavor-aid. They were very skinny, and their plug was the same color as their hair. They were also wearing something on their dick and balls - something made of metal. It was a ring locked to a small steel chamber. A cage. As we all approached the tiled opening to the shower room I heard running water echoing randomly - Rod swooped me under the doorway and past the partitions and stepped inside. It was not a series of curtained stalls. It was a large communal shower room with heads lining the walls like at a swimming pool or health club. There must have been two dozen shower heads and several were going at the time. It was all black men of all heights and builds. Their cocks came to my attention immediately, each one uniquely shaped. Some cut, some not, some curved sideways even while soft, some tapered at the head. But each and every one of them was an enormous example of human anatomy.
My eyes were next drawn to the floor. Just next to one of the men showering, on his knees was a young toned white man. Naked, his dick was caged and he wore a choke chain collar. The black man turned to him.
“Open.” he commanded. An obedient mouth snapped wide open as the man seized the awaiting head, forcing a semi-erect cock all the way down the open throat which swallowed it whole. He held the pale figure firm, unmoving, against his groin for over thirty seconds, giving a deep sigh of satisfaction. Withdrawing slowly, the slave eagerly suckled at the head before returning to his kneeling position. I was spellbound by what I had witnessed.
“Here you go, Ashley honey.” Rod said, and he held up a shrink wrapped pair of rubber sandals. I was confused where he got them but saw another white inmate walking quickly away from us.
I tore open the packaging and pulled on the sandals which dangled from my toes until Rod finally hoisted me down to my feet. He whipped his towel off and tossed it to a white guy in scrubs and a collar, who hurried to hang it up. I was witnessing firsthand the great system I’d been told about - and I was a part of it.
Rod led me over to an available shower and turned on the water, it was already hot and felt soothing against my skin, I could feel the sweat and drool and cum from last night begin to rinse away. Rod pointed to a hand pump on the wall full of soap.
“Well get soaping, boy.” he said. And I immediately understood. I pumped a few squirts of liquid body wash into my hand and began to rub them together before I placed them on my master’s body and began lathering his arms and torso. I massaged his muscles as I went. His cock grew some as I took special care in running my fingers up and down its length, gently polishing the balls and shaft and caressing it, lovingly cleaning my king’s flawless ebony flesh. As I ran my hands upward to his shoulders he looked around the room before he took my chin in his finger and pulled me in to kiss me deeply. It was a reward. He was showing all the other inmates that his slave was obedient and pleasing. I was filled with a fluttering feeling - a mixture of pride and bashfulness, and felt my body relax as I kissed him back, his tongue feeling through my mouth as if to search it for contraband. As he pulled away and rinsed himself his body gleamed and glistened.
“Ay Roddy!” I heard a gravelly voice bark from the other side of the chamber. A black man with long dreadlocks was staring at us, dripping wet. He was the size of an industrial refrigerator.
“What’s the word Izzy?” Rod called back to the man without looking. I on the other hand hadn’t taken my eyes off Izzy since he spoke. He was covered head to toe with dark tattoos of tribal patterns that swirled about his physique giving him a foreboding, almost reptilian look. Several of the symbols I recognized; espousing Black Pride, the Black Panthers, Pan-Africanism, Black Lives Matter, and intricate designs I had never seen before. They were beautifully done and the artist had taken care to enhance the barrel-chested man’s features like his large pecs, piercing eyes, and of course his totally unignorable member. I’d grown used to seeing huge black dicks by now - they were just about literally everywhere at this point - but Izzy’s stood out. It was certainly large, almost as large as Rod’s. But it was shaped perfectly like a long torpedo, veins running down it as tempered chocolate coats caramel, culminating in a polished chestnut colored head that proudly centered itself like a pendulum. Perfectly bulbous, almost sculpted from wood - a fine facsimile to those fertility figurines my mother had been so fascinated by when I was younger.
“That bitch needs to learn to reign in the bimboi gaze of his.” Izzy said. I looked up to see his eyes of coal fixed to mine. I looked away. I wasn’t really frightened but… apprehensive? Giddy? Like butterflies before a big speech. Next thing I knew I felt a burst of pain and a flash of light. A powerful stinging sensation tore across my cheek. I cupped it and looked up in shock, my eyes watering. Rod had his hand raised as if to strike again.
“Eyes on me or the floor, bitch.” Daddy said sharply. “You're just a white boy in here. Lucky you, you’re so good at taking dick.” He shut off the water. My cheek stung and I was speechless. “On your hands and knees Ashley.” Rod said. I hesitated a moment but obeyed. I looked about and saw the other man on the ground with the collar give me a sympathetic look before going back to lathering his master. He - and now I - were being punished for disobedience.
I crawled along behind Rod and as he approached Izzy he snapped his fingers and two towels were run out to them by the same inmate from before. This was indeed an entirely different world than I was used to. As the men toweled off I thought back to my school lessons about the Jim Crow days or even the antebellum years in the United States where blacks were treated much like this or worse by their white owners. I couldn’t imagine it was too close to what I was seeing activity wise - but this was clearly an organized effort in dehumanization. Was it vengeance? Had they learned the same history I had? Perhaps one even more horrific? They had no established industry for which they could exploit our obedience so the economic niches within created something else. Something they would always need, something ever in demand, and something marketable and tradeable - sex. Or was there some other nefarious explanation? Was it just men doing what they could to survive? Cursed with participating in a side picked for you, still left to choose one horrible fate or another, bound to it for the duration of your sentence. If you get the short end of the stick, you’re terrified to stand up for yourself, knowing you’re outnumbered and any sort of attempt at rebellion would, successful or not, probably end badly for you personally. If you get the long end, you’re expected to participate or be branded a sympathizer, a race-traitor, or some other non-committal liability to the cause. If you don’t toe the line, it won’t be ignored. I pondered the possibilities and imagined it was likely a combination of both. Some guys might have really relished the opportunity - and not just some of the black ones. My train of thought was distracted by a slapping, grunting, whimpering sound in the corner. The large man I’d seen earlier entering the showers with his slave was now fucking them from behind, the slave hunched over with their back arched and legs spread as the man repeatedly slammed their cock into the willing hole. The boy looked at me for a moment. His eyes were glassy and his jaw slack. His tongue soon hung out and a string of drool dripped slowly downward as he squeaked and sighed with pleasure, the blue hoop earrings bobbing back and forth with each thrust. The master would every so often deliver a powerful wet smack to one of the boy’s buttocks, which would make them yelp slightly but continue to gurgle with ecstasy, pounded in front of a dozen others. Many of whom took little notice.
“This is the new punk.” Izzy said to Rod, gesturing to the floor. It wasn’t a question. “Real new.”
“Not for sale.” Rod replied. Izzy reached down and tugged on my chin with one huge finger, forcing me to look up at him. His large eyes were cold and hungry,
“She might need some training then huh?” Izzy said, turning my jaw about as though he was inspecting a collie at a dog show. He lightly slapped my cheek a couple times with hands the size of dinner plates - then tousled my hair. I got goosebumps.
“Nope. Ash is smarter than your average white boy. Didn’t try to throw hands like it was a bluff and he had to prove himself.” Rod said this last part with a sardonic tone and both he and Izzy laughed like I wasn’t there. I heard the humping behind me grow faster. “She may need a little gussying up though, can you have it taken care of?” Rod asked, “A little prep.” he added with a sly tone. The pronoun swapping confused me - was I a girl to these people? What kind of prep?
“Ay I gotchu.” Izzy answered and he reached for my neck like one might reach for a disobedient cat. Rod stopped his wrist - firmly but respectfully. I had a lot to learn from both of them.
“Naw man. Get Candy to do it.” Rod said. Izzy’s hand relaxed and he returned it to his side.
“That’s cool if that’s what you want.” Izzy said. “She got time today.”
“I’ll send it.” Rod replied and the two clasped hands and that was that. I could hear the lovemaking come to a climax as the man gave a low groan and the boy gave a shuddering sigh as the load was deposited deep inside him. It sounded eerily familiar.
As I crawled into our cell, my tummy rumbled. I was wondering when, if ever, I would be fed in this place. I tried to stand up, and Rod placed a bare foot on my shoulder, pressing me back down.
“Maybe you’re not so smart, white boy.” He said. “Getting a little feisty. Here’s a tip - if you’re going to take the initiative, ask yourself: Does this bring pleasure to my man? Does this make life better and easier and more pleasurable for a black king? Did a black king order me to do this? If the answer is anything but an enthusiastic yes, then keep that shit to yourself. Get me?” His foot was still on my shoulder as I stared up at him wide-eyed. I nodded slowly and he brought his foot back down.
“Good boy.” he said. “Now clean the cell and get shit tidy. I'm going to the gym. This place better be spotless when I get back.” Rod pulled on boxer briefs and scrubs and left. The cell door slammed shut behind him - as though he controlled it through his mind.
I looked around the cell. In a previously empty corner there had appeared a roll of bathroom paper towels, an unlabeled spray bottle, a trash bag, and other cleaning implements. I wondered silently if one day I would be the one delivering flip flops or discreetly leaving cleaning supplies. It was then I also saw they had left what appeared to be a lunch tray on the ground which I seized. There was a large sealed bottle of what looked like a protein shake, and a wrapped sandwich. I looked at the label on the bottle, but the only thing on it was a white sticker with a pink Mars symbol on it. I found the same sticker on the sandwich. Unwrapping the paper, I was disappointed to find not a sandwich but more of a moist flat loaf. I sampled it and found it didn’t taste too bad, almost like a cereal cake. It was also very satisfying. After taking a minute to digest I felt very thirsty and opened the bottle. After a small sip seemed bearable, I tipped the contents down my throat. It was sort of reminiscent of one of those meal replacement shakes seniors drink. Feeling very full despite the small portions I was satisfied. With renewed energy, I went to work tidying, dusting, and wiping down the cell and fixtures. It didn’t take long to organize everything else, and I felt an odd sense of domestic accomplishment as I surveyed the spotless living space. Then I heard the cell door suddenly unlatch and slide open. I dropped to my knees as quickly as I could expecting a sharp rebuke from Rod, but to my surprise I heard a lighthearted giggle. I turned around to see a girl there! I didn’t genuinely believe it was a woman - that had to have been impossible. But they sure looked like one. A petite but slightly curvy, tanned figure around my age but a few inches shorter walked into the cell carrying a small suitcase. They were wearing flip flops exposing painted black toenails and what appeared to be the same uniform I had initially been given, but it had been cropped into daisy duke style shorts and a top that was knotted at the front, exposing an emerald jewel belly button piercing that matched their earrings. Their hair was a pixie cut and bleached blonde with pink streaks, and they had matching nail polish, mascara, and eyeliner drawn into slight wings. Their only other jewelry was a collar with a dime-sized black charm on it which matched a tattoo on their ankle - a black spade symbol. I slowly stood up without saying a word.
“Being punished, huh?” the stranger said, smiling.
“Uh-huh.” I answered, suddenly very aware that I was still naked.
“You’re the one I have to thank for these cute clothes aren’t you? I fill them out better, anyway.” They giggled again. “Well, you can stand for a bit while Rod’s gone.” They set down the bag and extended a hand. “I’m Candy. She/her. I was told your name was Ashley, but you can tell me your real name if you’d rather I call you that.” I blushed.
“Ashley is my real name.” I said, and weakly shook her hand.“I go by Ash, though.” Then Candy blushed harder than I had.
“Oh-h my god I’m really sorry.” she said. “I mean, I’m not sorry about…What I meant was that I-I just assumed Rod had-”
“It’s okay Candy.” and I smiled - realizing suddenly that I hadn’t really smiled in a long time. It was nice to talk to someone like an equal.
“Thank you. Are you alright hun?” Candy then asked, looking at me concerned. I didn’t know what she was asking until I felt a tear drip onto my bare chest. I had been crying.
“Oh.” I looked for something to wipe my face, Candy handed me a hanky which I gratefully accepted.
“That’s totally fine, Ash. You’re no doubt pretty overwhelmed with what’s going on, huh?” I came back out of my head.
“Yes. Very. I don’t understand how this place works really or how it came to be. Why are you here? Which white people do which tasks? Are there other punishments? Do they kill white people here? Why does nobody outside stop this?” I started babbling. Candy’s eyes widened and she held up her hands.
“Whoaaaa!” She pleaded.“Holy shit, Ash. OK first of all I’m not here to coddle you with information and friendship - we honestly don’t have time for any of that. But some of your questions are fair. So, bluntly and in order…” Candy began counting off on long fingers, “I’m here with some basic things you’ll need to get you started, white people fill the tasks they’re suited for, no they won’t punish you with death, and the last one I’ll answer with a question of my own: Why doesn’t anybody outside any prison stop anything?” As they finished their speech, Candy began unpacking the case on the floor. I wasn’t too comforted by her information, but I was soon distracted by the gear being laid out. First there appeared to be a basic set of prison clothes, with similar alterations to Candy’s. Followed by a few cosmetics and applicators, some toiletries, and a few things I didn’t recognize or were in opaque bags.
“Ok.” Candy stood up wielding the razor in one hand and a can of gel in the other. “I need you to stand as still as possible for me and try to keep your arms up.” She told me. I stood in a T-pose. Candy laughed. “No, dummy.” they said. “Just try to keep them out of the way while I’m shaving you. And for fuck’s sake try not to get hard.” With practiced efficiency, Candy started the water in the cell sink and filled it before rubbing some gel between their hands and massaging it anywhere I had body hair. There wasn’t much, but small fuzzy patches occupied certain spaces. I didn’t have much trouble staying still as they reached my pubic hair since it was cleanly swept off in four strokes, the challenge came when Candy began to massage an herbal smelling lotion into every part she’d shaved. She worked it in circles, her long nails brushing lightly against the skin around my shaft. My dick twitched.
“Easy,” She warned me as though I was a misbehaving horse they were brushing, and finished up on my face and legs. “There.” Candy rinsed her hands and the sink. “That’ll keep you soft and start to keep the hair from growing back permanently.” My eyes grew wide.
“Huh? I don’t want any permanent changes though.” I protested.
“Oh come on, don’t be such a baby.” She dismissed me. “Lots of guys here do this. It’s to make you as feminine as possible to the preference of your dom or whatever they have you call them.”
“Master or-” I started to say without thinking.
“Daddy. Pretty typical. Something about it turns them on.” Candy finished, chuckling. I stared at her. “Look hun, it’s not like you have to get implants or transition. Not a lot of guys in here go that route unless of course they’re trans. The paperwork is even underway to get me moved into the women’s camp. I just so happen to be here right now, and my style and looks happen to make me super popular, and I also happen to love black guys and also happen to be pretty slutty. It’s really just a coincidence. Worst case scenario, you take some hormone pills for a little while, or get a tattoo or a piercing.”
“Are you trying to make me feel better?” I asked.
“Honestly? No.” She snapped. “I’m trying to make you see reality. Prison’s a tough place and it’s about survival. You’re not really in any position to start whining and for now I’m the only one here trying to help you fit in so the least you could do is be grateful!” She huffed and began rummaging in her bag. I felt very small.
“I’m sorry Candy.” I said meekly, “I really appreciate you... And I think you’re really beautiful, you know.” I saw Candy give a very slight smile.
“Alright kissass. You’re lucky you’re cute, you know. Lie down on your back.” She said, I did as she said and as I was staring at the planks above I felt a chilly hand grab my penis and scrotum and loop a metal ring around both, pressing it to my pubis. Looking down, I remembered the other slave in the showers with the cage on.
Now it’s not like I have a micropenis: it’s there, it’s just not fantastic. When it’s soft it’s probably nearly two inches, and maybe four when I’m really turned on. I couldn’t really picture it going into such a tiny space but decided to trust Candy. Then I felt a piercing cold envelop my genitals.
“YEESH!” I said involuntarily, looking down. Candy was holding what appeared to be an ice pack down on my dick. I looked at her, but she just seemed bored. She then grabbed my now very shrunken penis and without a word she slipped another, smaller metal ring around it which meshed with the metal ring at the top, and followed it with a cap like steel piece she used like a bulldozer to stuff my shaft down into itself, managing to nearly invert it so it seemed to disappear into my body - and with that she slid the shackle of a padlock through the three meshed loops at the top and snapped it shut. I was stunned.
“That may be a little gender-defying.” Candy finally said. “But hey, it’s temporary. Besides, who knows? Maybe you’ll like being a girl. Oh, and that reminds me…”
Candy spent the next thirty minutes impressively walking me through facial makeup. It was a lot of information at once and I did my best to take it all in. Foundation, liner, mascara, shadow, and lipstick. I was provided with everything (“Lucky” I heard Candy mutter under her breath), as well as some remover. She told me I may as well leave her work on for the day so I could appreciate it, but to practice on my own as much as possible. Then she gave me the clothes I’d be wearing. Two sets, and a laundry bag. I wondered aloud why I hadn’t been provided with this sort of thing when I had first arrived.
“Oh well sometimes it takes a little time until they decide who deserves what.” Candy replied. I didn’t ask who she meant by “They” but I didn’t really pursue it. The clothes fit much better than the old ones had. Even if the shirt was short cropped, exposing my midriff and ribs, and the shorts tight enough to see the bottom of my ass peeking out. I hadn’t been provided with any footwear besides the flip flops, but Candy had given me some nail polish to practice with.
“Best take those off again, hun.” Candy said, gesturing to the uniform. “Clothes are sort of a privilege for our kind. Rod didn’t say anything about you being dressed and I wouldn’t risk it if I were you.”
“What should I do?” I asked. Candy shrugged as she packed up her things.
“My advice? Be intuitive. You’ve seen enough. Get naked, make sure this place is spotless, and kneel on the floor with your mouth open until he comes back.” And with that, Candy picked up her case, flashed me a ‘peace’ sign, and walked out of the cell.
