Franco's Prison Bitch (An Epilogue to "Jerry In Prison") - Sex Stories

Franco's Prison Bitch (An Epilogue to "Jerry In Prison")

... my cell and introduced me to my new cell mate. There was a haughty, snobbish look about him that instantly made me take a disliking to him, so I kept quiet. But that night, he decided to be a smart-ass. “Hey boy,” I said to him. “Go grab me a fuckin’ book from the shelf over there.” I heard him scoff from below me and he said “Why don’t you get it yourself, you lazy fuck?” Major fuck-up. In no time, I had hopped down from my top bunk and was in his face. “What the FUCK did you say to me, nigga?!” I snarled in his face. His eyes went wide with fear. That was good. Most peopled feared me in here. I saw his eyes travel; he was looking at the scar over my left eye. I had received that scar in a fight almost a year ago, and I was damn proud of it; not only did it symbolize my pugnacious lifestyle, but it also made me look ten times as dangerous as I already looked, elevating the fear of anyone I gave the death glare. “I-I-I s-said,” he stammered. “Maybe you could g-go get it your-s-s-self?” “BITCH!” I yelled, snapping my fist forward in a right hook to the jaw. He fell back on the bed, whimpering in pain. I grabbed him by the shirt and held his face to mine. “Apparently you’ve already forgotten where the fuck you are, nigga. Let me remind you: you’re in prison, and you’re fresh fish. And we don’t take no orders from fresh fish. They take orders from us.” “Get off me!” he yelled, trying to push me back. But I swung a fist into his stomach, completely knocking the wind out of him. ...

... “Didn’t I just say I’m not gonna do as you tell me, nigga?” I snapped as he fell onto the floor, gasping. “Fuck…you,” he whispered. Rage fired up in me at this. Yanking my wifebeater off, I grabbed him up by his short blond hair and started smacking him up. “Looks like I’m gonna have to teach you the hard way!” I said to him. His face was reddened from my pimp-slaps, his baby-blue eyes leaking tears. “Now you’re gonna learn why they always say ‘Don’t drop the soap.’ But before I do that, you’re gonna do something for me. Get down on your fuckin’ knees.” Surprisingly, he submitted to me. I guess my beating wrought an instant change in him… Sam’s first night in the joint was all he needed to officially become my prison bitch. He gave me a damn good blowjob that night, though he was reluctant to bend over so I could fuck his pussy. I made quick work of that. Just like the big dude in the shower, I had him screaming for his mama with my big dick up his tight virgin ass… Things were like that for a few good months. I liked dominating the little faggot Sam, making him do whatever Daddy wanted. He was my property. And every night I’d tear that sweet piece of boy-pussy up, making sweet love to him (of course, my definition of “making sweet love” was other people’s definition of “rough, angry fucking”). There were even some mornings when I would wake him up with a surprise quickie. Then one day, after I had been in prison for a little over a year now, I got a letter from my girlfriend ...