Caged Fury

Oct. 26th, 2006 05:02 pm
trashywoman69: Angel TV Series (Default)
[personal profile] trashywoman69
Title: Caged Fury
Author: Trashy Woman
Pairing: Warrick/Brass
Rating: NC-17
Category is: AU
Summary: Warrick gets sent to prison and gets put in a cell with his worst nightmare.
Archive: Yes
Feedback: Always appreciated
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. No profit is made from this writing.


My 34th birthday was the most memorable birthday of my life. It wasn’t the best birthday, just the most memorable. Spending it in prison made it hard to forget.


I arrived at prison two weeks before the big day. I wasn’t innocent---I won’t try to claim that---but I was more the victim of love than a criminal. OK, maybe it was lust and not love, but my taste for older white, slightly dangerous men had finally gotten me into trouble. I guess that’s what they call poetic justice, because now I was surrounded by more-than-slightly dangerous men 24 hours a day, but the romantic possibilities were not the least bit arousing to me.


Mind you now, I’m not small, standing at 6”2 and in pretty good shape, I’m not someone who most people would trifle with. However, these hardened prisoners weren’t most people and I was completely out of my element. Let’s face it---I was scared shitless!


When I was led to my cell, I got even more scared.


My new room mate was smaller than me, but looked tough as nails. He had a nasty expression on his face, and he spat on my feet when the guard introduced us.


The guard walked away, laughing. It took everything I had not to piss my pants.


Brass was the guy’s name. Outside of the prison walls, I would have been drooling over him. He was exactly my type, older about 48, white, but not slightly dangerous, extremely dangerous! Inside prison, I was drooling, but it was from fear, not lust.


He lay back down on his bed, and I took a step forward to put my things on the top bunk.


“I didn’t give you permission to move.”


I froze. His voice made the hairs on my body stand up. It was deep and vicious.


“You’re prettier than most women. In here, that gives you two choices. You can either be my cunt or you can be the whole cell block’s cunt. The choice is yours.”


I pissed my pants.


He sat up and stared at me. “I didn’t hear your answer.”


I swallowed, but my heart was stuck in my throat. “Yours.”


It was a whisper.


“Say it.”


I fought back tears. “I want to be your cunt.”


“You can move now.”


My legs wobbled as I walked to the bunk. I put my stuff on the top and got some clean pants. I stood facing the corner wall by the toilet and changed as quickly as possible, feeling his eyes on me the whole time.


He didn’t say another word and he only left his bunk to piss, but I didn’t sleep the entire night.


In the morning, I reported for my work assignment. I was a janitor on our cell block. My work partner was a hyper kid named Greg who was in for prostitution and burglary. Greg talked a lot. He said it was all his pimp’s fault, the reason he was in here.


“You’re lucky to be with Brass. Nobody’ll fuck with you as long as you’re his bitch.”


“What’s he in for?”


“He’s in for murder. Beat two guys to death with his fists and crippled a third guy. Killed two more guys inside, so far. Both of’ em were cell mates of his. I guess they couldn’t handle his needs. Did you handle it Ok?”


“Uh…Sort of.” Something told me to keep my mouth shut.


“He likes to fuck bareback. He’s big on inserting foreign objects too. “Big” fuckin foreign objects! But…Hey, I guess that’s better than loaning you out to Ecklie’s gang.


My legs were shaking so bad I could barely stand.


I checked out Greg’s story and it seemed to be true. Brass had killed at least four men.


I was terrified. I asked a guard for help, to change me to another cell or put me in solitary.


“He said, “Those are the facts of prison life, boy. You should have thought of that before you broke the law.


Walking back to my cell, I thought I would vomit. My mind raced with crazy ideas. Escape. I’d overpower Brass in his sleep and strangle him. Problem is, I’m not a killer. I’d find another prisoner and beg him to take me as his bitch, hoping he had the balls to take on Brass. Not likely.


None of my options were too appealing.


After dinner and before lockdown, we were taken to the showers. We went in formation, and I felt Brass behind me, breathing on my neck.


We stripped and waited our turn. I held my hands in front of my crotch. Every face was looking at me. Each one was built, from hours of weight lifting. I had never been that ripped.


I saw my reflection in the mirror and cursed my mother for marrying a white man. Here I was, 6”2, mocha skinned, with green fucking eyes and full lips. Every single man in the place wanted to play with me.


I was on the verge of tears.


We moved into the shower room and Brass stood next to me. I just had to peak.


He was pretty well hung, but I knew I could handle it, if necessary.


“This is one fine looking cunt you got, Brass.”


I spun toward the voice. Three white guys were behind me. One had drool dripping form his mouth as he looked me over. The one talking to Brass was a bit taller than him and somewhat more muscular.


“I’ll work out a trade with you.”


Brass didn’t look at them. “You ain’t got nothin’ I want, Ecklie.”


“Just for a night. I want to give my boys a present.”


Brass turned slowly and faced them. “Like I said, you ain’t got nothin’ I want.”


Ecklie looked me over, jerking himself off while he did.


“Let me know if you change your mind. I Haven’t fucked anything that pretty in a while.”


Ecklie came, his load splattering at my feet. “If you’re going to kill this one, give him to me before you do.”


They left.


I let the shower stream wash away my tears. I could barely walk back to the cell.


I stayed on top of my bunk, plastered to the wall, pretending I was reading. I was too afraid to even use the toilet.


Lights-out came and I buried my face in my pillow, swallowing the bile that rose up in my throat. The bunk rocked and squeaked. I bit my pillow to muffle my sobs and waited for Brass to pull me off my bunk.


The bunk continued to rock and squeak. I heard a kind of slapping noise and realized Brass was masturbating, getting himself ready for my rape.


My ass clenched. I swallowed more bile and sobs.


A long low rumble came from below, ending in a violent grunt. Two minutes later, Brass was snoring.


What the hell kind of game was this? Some sick prison mind fuck?


I rolled onto my back, shaking, and realized with horror that I was hard.


I couldn’t sleep again, my hard-on oozing and aching. I was too scared to touch it, too scared the sound would wake Brass.


When Brass got up in the morning, my cock deflated fast, thank God. The last thing I needed was for him to think I was hot for him.


I looked toward him and my eyes popped out of my head. He was naked and in morning-erection mode.


Much to my dismay, I found myself licking my lips.


He ran his hand to the end of his cock and wiped off a lengthening string of precome. He flicked it onto my face.


“Hungry, cunt?”


I couldn’t answer.


He grabbed the front of my shirt and yanked me off my bunk. I hit the floor hard, knocking the wind from my lungs.


He squatted next to me while I gasped for air.


“I asked you a question, cunt. Are you hungry?”


I shook my head.


He stood up and massaged his cock with it’s own lubricant. I started to scoot away. His voice reverberated around the cell.


“I didn’t give you permission to move, bitch.”


I froze, except for my trembling. I couldn’t stop that.


“Sit cross-legged and face away from me.”


I obeyed.


He circled me several time, slowly jacking his meat. He stopped behind me. “I think I’m going to fuck you once, then work the trade with Ecklie. He only has about 20 boys.”


He squatted behind me. His cock ran up my back and oozed precome onto my neck. Tears ran down my cheeks, but I managed not to sob.


“You can do 20 men in one night, can’t you, cunt? Or should I let him have you for two nights?”


Two wracking sobs escaped before I could stop them.


Brass stood, and I heard him jacking off in earnest.


He let loose with that long, low rumble, but this time it ended in an anguished cry. Come rained down on me, soaking my hair and dripping onto my face. My shirt stuck to my back.


I let myself cry. I bowed my head and sobbed like a baby.


“Get up.”


I stood, looking down at my feet.


“I got you transferred to the kitchen with me so I can keep an eye on you. I don’t trust anyone as pretty as you. Even the straight guards who get to go home to pussy every night want to fuck you. Whether you are with me or not, you will not speak unless you have my permission. You will not shit or piss without my permission. Is that understood?”


I nodded.


He slapped me across the face. “Answer me.”


“Yes, sir.” It was barely audible, but it was all I could manage.


He wouldn’t let me wash. I had to go to breakfast with his come all over me. Even the guards were smiling, and the other prisoners kept up a steady stream of obscene comments.


I was at his side constantly. When I asked permission to go to the bathroom, he refused it unless he was free to go with me. Even when I took a dump, he stood in the doorway and watched.


That night in the shower, if another prisoner even looked at me, Brass threatened him.


After lights-out, Brass masturbated to orgasm again, then fell asleep. I did the same thing this time, coming to an image of Brass stroking his cock onto my head. My dreams were filled with confusion and that anguished cry Brass made when he came.


The next two days weren’t much different. Each morning I sat on the floor and Brass hosed me down with come. He only got it on my clothes, though, after that first time. Never on my hair or face.


Everywhere we went, we were given a wide birth. When not working, I was expected to stand or walk just behind his right shoulder. Not even the guards spoke directly to me; they spoke through Brass.


Every night was the same. Brass masturbated in his bunk after lights-out, then fell asleep. As soon as he started snoring, I jacked off too.


I didn’t understand what was happening. He never spoke to me, except to degrade me or give me orders. He referred to me only as bitch or cunt. If I did not respond fast enough, he slapped me. Yet he never molested me---not even a touch---except for the morning soakings. I was still terrified of him, but I could not deny that I was becoming attracted to him.


Doesn’t that just figure?


My fifth day in prison was visitors’ day. Both Brass and I were informed that we had them.


I waited behind Brass for my turn. When it was his turn, he sat down opposite a young woman. She was maybe in her early 20’s. She looked sad and there was a scar on the left side of her cheek. She looked older that her years. Something about her demeanor reminded me of Brass. The Brass family was certainly not a peaceful lot.


They seemed happy to see each other at first, then it looked like the girl was crying. Brass placed his hand against the plexiglass separating them and it became obvious that she was indeed crying.


I wanted to be able to hear, but I was on the other end of the room.


I watched them until it was my turn, then I sat down opposite my mother and picked up the phone.


“Hi, Ricky. How are you doing?”


“Just great, Mom. I don’t know why I didn’t do this sooner.”


Her lip started to quiver and her face screwed up tight.


“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m fine.”


“You look better than I thought you would.”


“It’s not that bad. Honest.”


She sniffed and dabbed her eyes. “I came to tell you I can’t visit anymore. Your father won’t allow it.”


I wasn’t surprised. My father hadn’t spoken to me since I told him I was gay. Getting arrested had sealed my family fate. Still, I was amazed by the amount of pain her words caused.


I swallowed several times and tried to control my breathing.


“I’ll write, though. I promise, honey.”


No, she wouldn’t. She was my father’s doormat.


“Well…,” She stared at me for a long time, and I didn’t know how to interpret her lack of expression. “Your father’s waiting. I promise I’ll write. Happy birthday, Ricky.”


I watched my mother walk away. I knew I would never see her again. I squeezed my hands together to stop the shaking. Prison was scary, but what about after that? What kind of life could be waiting for a faggot ex-con?


The guard yelled at me to get up.


I went outside the visitors’ room and Brass was waiting for me. We returned to our cell in our usual silence. I was too absorbed in my own misery to notice how agitated Brass was. Back in the cell, though, he paced constantly.


I usually stayed on my bunk and out of his way, but he was blocking the bed, so I stayed near the cell door instead.


He stopped suddenly and stared at me. His eyes were burning.


He screamed, the sudden noise slamming me against the bars with fright. “Take off your fucking clothes!”


That was it. That girl had really brought bad news and Brass was going to take it out on me.


I obeyed, although it was difficult with me convulsing with fear.


“Come here.”


I walked to him nude.


“Sit down.”


I started to turn, like I always did in the morning, and he grabbed me by the hair. “I didn’t tell you to turn around.”


He forced me to the floor.


I sat crossed-legged, my cock stiffening as he resumed his pacing. I put my hands in my lap to cover my growing erection, but Brass kicked them away. His own hands clenched and unclenched repeatedly.


He stared at my cock, which got harder as he watched it.


Tears rolled down my cheeks, but I didn’t make a sound.


Without warning, Brass went completely berserk. He screamed at me, but I couldn’t understand most of it. Things like “why you” and “she’s never going to make it.” Then he yanked the mattresses off the bed and started shredding them bare-handed. He tore a few pictures down from the wall and swept everything off the desk with one arm. He kicked and stomped until everything was in pieces.


Guards came running and shouted warnings. Other prisoners were shouting too. I cowered on the floor, staying where Brass had put me.


The guards stormed in and dragged Brass away.


Up and down the cell block, I could hear chaos. We were locked down for the rest of the day and night.


In the morning, I had hands all over me in line at breakfast At work, Hodges, one of Ecklie’s boys, slobbered and stared all day. He was too scared of Brass, though, to try anything.


Unfortunately, Ecklie wasn’t too scared. He and four of his men surrounded me in the showers and pinned me to a wall. I would have been raped if a guard hadn’t come in.


At night, I sat on my new mattress and cried. I missed Brass. I missed his protection. I missed the presence of another human being and I missed looking at him.


I climbed down to Brass’ bunk, and even though the new mattress didn’t have his scent, It helped and I was able to fall asleep.


The next morning, Brass was in the mess hall. I almost ran to him, I was so glad to see him.


“Did anyone touch you?”


“No, sir.”


That was all he said, and our routine returned to normal.


The entire situation was driving me nuts. Was he going to rape me or not? Would it actually be rape at this point? Was I attracted to him or was I having fear-induced hard-ons? Did I secretly want him to fuck me?


I honestly couldn’t answer any of those questions. My mind was a constant jumble of emotions and my nerves were so frazzled I couldn’t think straight.


I decided to call my lawyer and see if he could find out more about Brass. Maybe it would help me sort things out.


A few days later my lawyer called me back. “James Brass is serving 25 years to life, for among other things, two counts of murder. His daughter was a victim of a gang rape. She almost died. Brass hunted down the suspects and beat the shit out of them. Two died and the third was crippled for life. He killed two other men inside prison, but they were ruled self-defense.”


“How long has Brass been in?”


“Almost five years.”


I hung up and located Greg.


“Can you tell me about Brass’ former cell mates?”


“What about them?”


“You said they were Brass’ cunts, right?”


Greg laughed. “Yeah. They were always coming to chow all wet and sticky, like you. Brass slapped them around a lot too,”


“Did they ever talk about Brass? You know, about being afraid of him and shit?”


“They were scared shitless of him, but were always trying to claim that Brass never touched them. We all knew they were just saying that because Brass made them say it.”


I went back to my cell and watched Brass do push-ups. As, I watched him, I went over everything in my mind. Looked at it in a different light, it was possible everything Brass was doing, he was doing to protect me. He had to convince the other prisoners that I was his bitch or I’d be up for grabs. He kept me close to him so he could guard me better. Keeping me intimidated and terrified ensured I would not give away the truth. Even coming on me was part of the masquerade.


Five years he’d been in prison. Five years, locked in a tiny cell with another person he wouldn’t allow himself to touch. Five years without sex.


That night I listened to him masturbate again. He made that anguished sound and my heart broke for him.


The next day was the day before my birthday and I found an opportunity to get away from Brass for a short time. I went to the tiny prison store and made a purchase to surprise him with.


I was going to save the surprise for my birthday, but Brass was getting agitated again as the day wore on. By the end of the day, he seemed close to another rage.


I wondered if I should give him his present right away, but I had no idea how he’d react to it, even when he was calm. As worked up as he was, I was afraid he might get violent.


Before I had the chance to decide what to do, Brass pulled me off my bunk.


“Take off your clothes.”


While I obeyed, he took his off too. His cock was already hard and red.


I started to sit down and he backhanded me, knocking me to the floor.


“I didn’t tell you to do that. Stand up.”


I stood, stars and tears obstructing my vision. He grabbed a handful of my hair and bent my neck back. He looked down into my face. His eyes were glowing with pent up need. His cock ran up my stomach and leaked onto it.


Brass was shaking. He hissed through clenched teeth. “Why did they have to put you in here?”


He pushed me to the floor and sat down on his bunk. He looked at his swollen cock with hatred, and his fingers dug into the mattress.


I had never spoken to him before without being spoken to first. My lips were so dry they stuck together. “I have something for you, sir.”


He looked at me, confusion twisting his face. His expression made him look so lost and younger that I was suddenly no longer frightened.


“I have something for you. For both of us. Can I give it to you, sir.”


He just stared at me, so I got up and went to my bunk. I pulled the six-pack of condoms out of my pillowcase. I handed it to him.


The lights went out while he was still staring at them in the palm of his hand. When he finally looked up at me, his face was half in shadow and half illuminated by the half light from the catwalk outside our cell. I caught my breath when I saw the glimmer of moisture on his cheek.


“He whispered, “You don’t have to do this.”


“I know,” I said. “That’s why I want to.”


He looked back down at the package in his hand. He didn’t seem to know what to do next, so I took the box from him, removed one of the rubbers, and put the rest on my bunk. I kneeled between his legs and his cock stood in front of me. The smell of his precome and his natural body odor was so intense, I began to salivate. I wanted to taste him, but I took the wrapper off the condom and prepared to roll it onto him.


The moment I touched his cock, his hips thrust up and his hands flew back to hold himself up. He vibrated against my fingers, making me harder. He sucked in short breaths as I continued toward the base of his cock.


I ran my tongue down the exposed underside, and his hand grabbed my head. I nuzzled his balls and sniffed them. He had an intoxicating odor that could only be described as manly. His balls were large and full and remarkably soft. I kneaded the satiny skin with my lips until I had thoroughly massaged both sacs.


I pressed my nose to the taut skin attaching his balls to his body. I rubbed my nose hard against it, trying to suck his scent into me. His fingers were tight in my hair. I nibbled the skin and then sucked hard. My tongue flicked along the trail to his asshole but did not linger. I was afraid of scaring him. The burst of flavor stung my tongue, and spit dripped out of my mouth.


Brass was making primitive noises, sounds I would expect to hear in the jungle. Growls and grunts and savage panting. I had a vision, of us mating like animals, then Brass ripping me to shreds with his teeth and hands. The vision frightened me, but I could not stop.


I ran my tongue up his rubber-covered cock. My mouth was full of his flavor, and it softened the foul taste of the rubber. I tongued the head and pumped my lips over the head.


His hips pumped slightly in response, but he seemed afraid to really let go. He finally grabbed my head and pulled me off his cock. I was sorely disappointed, but Brass lay down and pulled me onto the bunk with him.


I wrapped myself around his sweat slick body and nuzzled his neck. He stroked my hair and ran his fingertips over my body. I quivered, my cock straining against his hip. His cock was under my right forearm, hard and throbbing.


He whispered into my hair. “My brother was right. He told me years ago that guys give better head.”


I giggled. I looked up at him. His eyes were closed and he kept playing with my hair.


“I can do a lot more for you if you’ll let me. You didn’t have to stop”


He opened his eyes and looked at me. “You liked it?”


I nodded.


Brass licked his lips. “My brother said that it feels good to get fucked because the prostrate gland is kind of like a woman’s G spot.”


“That’s one reason. It’s hard to describe how it makes you feel without getting religious about it. It feels like an act of completion for me, though. That’s the best word I can find.”


“I…” He played with my hair some more, having trouble finding the words he wanted. “I want to fuck you, but…well, I never had much luck at finding a woman’s G spot. I want you to show me mine and what to do with it, so I can do it for you.”


My mind was a vacuum, sucked empty by the possibility of what he was saying.


Brass laughed softly and closed my mouth. He kissed me so gently it tickled, and a horrendous pain bore through my heart.


He sucked two of my fingers into my mouth, slathering them until spit ran down my arm. He pulled my fingers out of his mouth and whispered in my ear. “Show me my G spot.”


I quite nearly came.


Trembling so hard my teeth chattered, I slid down his body. I laid my head on his cock and could actually hear the whoosh of blood coursing through it. I kissed his balls, and my dripping fingers glided to his asshole.


It caved in at my touch, then spread open a little. It began to pulse and it felt like it was kissing my fingertips.


A ripple of pleasure shook through his body and he sighed. “I thought the spot was inside.


I laughed. “That’s not it, straight guy.”


I pushed one finger in and he gasped. I found his gland and rubbed it hard. His body went rigid, and I heard a twang as his dick shot straight up in the air.


“Holy shit.”


“That, straight guy, is your G spot.”


“Holy shit.”


My second finger squeezed in and I got his prostrate in a finger lock and stated fucking it.


“Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.”


Brass grabbed my wrist and pulled my fingers out of his ass. He held my wrist tight until his body calmed down.


His voice was kind of squeaky when he spoke. “OK. I think I can find it now.”


He put two fingers to my lips and I sucked them in. I was so aroused, I started humping his leg. Brass Put the palm of his free hand against my forehead and pushed until his fingers popped free from my mouth.


“Jesus. You’d think you were the one who’d been locked up for five years.”


“I can’t help it. I’m gay.”


Brass rolled me onto my back. He pushed my knees up to my chest, then lay on top of me. The pressure spread my ass cheeks wide. My asshole had that slight tearing feeling without being touched. My cock stuck straight up and poked his belly button. His cock leaked a steady stream of precome onto me. I prayed to God that when I died I would be exactly like this at the moment of death. There could be no more appropriate send off.


Brass kissed me, and it wasn’t gentle and it didn’t tickle. His tongue attacked my tongue and plunged down my throat. He sucked my tongue into his mouth with such force, it ached. He licked across my open mouth and drank my saliva. He ravaged my mouth so completely that his fingers were in my ass and fucking my gland before I realized it.


It wasn’t long before his fingers were gone, replaced quickly by the head of his cock. It was not a slow penetration. He slammed into me and buried himself up to the hilt. I rocked on his pulsing cock. His free hand found my cock, and in a few seconds he was fucking me three ways, all in perfect sync.


Soon my body was overwhelmed with sensations as his cock fucked my ass, his fist fucked my cock, and his tongue fucked my face. I exploded and come soaked his hand. I screamed form the raw power of it all. My body was wracked with spasms, even after it had drained itself.


A few second later, Brass howled and emptied himself inside me. Brass was panting hard, but he still asked me if I was OK. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, “Yes! Yes! Oh, fuck, yes!” But all I could manage was, “Uh huh.”


He watched me for awhile as I tried to piece my body back together, then he slid down me like I was a Slip ‘ Slide and laid his head on my chest.


“I’ll just hold you until you stop shaking.”


“Uh huh.”


Brass snuggled deep, his arms underneath me and his legs wrapped around mine. Before I had recovered the power of speech and could tell him how incredible it had been, Brass was snoring.


I fell asleep quite a bit later, after I had traced and memorized as much of him as I could. I was not sure what Brass was going to feel in the morning, but if it was regret and shame, I wanted to make sure I didn’t forget a thing.


He woke me up early, before the guards arrived. His only words, spoken in a harsh, husky tone, were, “No one can know.”


He did not wish me happy birthday. I wanted to cry, but did not dare.


We didn’t have to perform our morning ritual because I was already bruised and come-soaked from the night before.


At breakfast, he referred to me only as cunt or bitch. At work, I tried to catch his eye when Ecklie wasn’t looking, but he refused to look at me.


I tried to tell myself I understood---and I did---but my sadness was so profound it was numbing.


After lunch we were cleaning up and Brass went outside the kitchen to dump some trash. Seconds later, he screamed for me. “Get out here now, cunt!”


I ran outside, my old fear of him rushing back at that sound in his voice.


I didn’t see him anywhere, though, so I called to him softly. Suddenly, I was yanked into an alcove. Brass crushed me to him and kissed me with the same urgent need as the night before. He whispered in my ear. “Happy birthday, bitch.”


I started crying and whispered back, “Thank you, straight guy.”


Brass pointed toward the exercise yard. “Look.”


A swirling fog moved across the yard, and for a brief moment all was silent. There were no birds singing, no machinery running, and no voices; only the sound of Brass’ breaths in my ear. I felt as if we were alone in the world and we were free.


He slipped his hand in mine and kissed me softly until Ecklie’s voice jerked us back to reality.


Brass put his lips close to my ear and whispered, “I love you,” then we walked back into the prison.


That was my 34th birthday. I guess maybe it was my best birthday ever.


End

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