The key clunked as it was turned in the cell door and the single occupant got up on one arm, irritated at the disturbance. He stared at the door as it opened.
A prison officer stepped into the cell, grinning. “Good morning, Grainger. Don’t get up on my behalf.”
“What can I do for you, Mr Jessop?” The big, twenty-six-year-old looked down from the top bunk and rubbed a hand over his close-cropped hair.
“I’ve brought somebody to occupy that lower bunk, so you finally have a companion.”
“I don’t want a fucking companion, Mr Jessop—I prefer my own company.”
“Well, there was a fire in HMP Langfield, and our governor agreed to accept a few inmates to help with the sharing out of prisoners.”
“There are spare bunks in other cells—put the fucker in one of them.”
“I’m afraid we’ll be using all of the spare bunks.” He paused and looked out along the gangway. “Here comes your cellmate now with his escort.”
Grainger sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bunk. “I’m not fucking happy.”
PO Jessop stood back. “Scullion, this is Grainger, your new best friend. Enjoy each other’s company.” He laughed and closed the door behind the new inmate, locking it behind him.
The new man placed his bedding and few belongings on the lower bunk. He stepped back to look up at the resident, who was observing from the top bunk.
“Why has the door been locked—we should have freedom of movement?” Scullion glanced at the door.
The big man smiled and shook his head. “They’re short-staffed here, mate. The best way to exercise control is to lock us in our cells most of the time.” He shook his head. “Now that we’ve got more inmates there’ll be less time with the fucking cells open.”
“We might be in prison, but we shouldn’t be expected—”
“Stop, for fuck’s sake.” Grainger placed his hands either side of his legs and launched himself down onto the floor. He smiled as he assessed the athletic-built man in front of him. “What age are you, Scullion?”
“Twenty-four, and my name is Dennis.” He extended his right hand.
Grainger took the slender hand in his big fist and held it firmly for a few seconds. “My name’s Grainger, but most of the fuckers in here call me Stranger.” He looked his new cell-mate up and down slowly. “Turn around.”
“Just fucking do it.” Grainger grabbed the slightly built man by the shoulders and spun him around. He pressed on Scullion’s neck with one hand and slapped his gut to bend him over at the waist. He squeezed his new cellmate’s buttocks through the uniform trousers before letting him go.
Scullion stood up and turned. “Don’t start getting any ideas. I’ve heard about guys like you.”
“You’ve got a pretty face and a little bit of meat on you which is better than an ugly, skinny rake.” He nodded as he continued to appraise the new man. “Don’t worry, Denise. Say the word, and I’ll protect you.”
“My name’s Dennis, and I don’t need bloody protection.”
“How long were you in the other prison?”
Scullion stared at the floor. “A while—”
“How long, exactly, Denise?”
“Two days, and it’s fucking Dennis.”
“Nobody had you as their bitch in the other place, did they?”
“No, and I would have dealt with it if they’d tried.”
“Are you a martial arts expert, or a lightweight boxing champion … Denise?”
“No—I’d have reported any attempts at abuse to the governor.”
“I haven’t seen you out of your uniform yet, Denise, but judging by your face, your build and your cute little arse, I’ll give you forty-eight hours before you’re gang-banged in the showers.”
“That’s bullshit, and it doesn’t happen in every prison.”
“Oh. How many prisons have you served time in, Denise?”
“Two, and will you stop calling me bloody Denise?’
Grainger laughed and held Scullion’s face with both hands, firmly, but without pressure. “Are you telling me that your entire prison experience is two days in Langfield, and so far, about two hours in here?”
Scullion swallowed so hard the sound was heard by both of them. He nodded as best he could—his head still in the big man’s grip.
“I’m calling you Denise because I want you to get used to it, sweetie.” Grainger slipped a firm hand around the back of his new cellmate's neck and pulled him forward as if to kiss him.
Scullion gripped Grainger’s wrist and pressed his other hand against his muscular chest, but his efforts at resistance were useless.
Grainger grinned and placed his lips close to his new cellmate's ear. “Denise, if you go to the mess hall twice today and you don’t have protection, you’ll be in the hospital wing by bedtime—having professional attention to what’s left of your mouth, or your damaged rectum.”
“The prison staff wouldn’t allow—”
“You’ve been watching the wrong movies. Come and sit here. I’ll explain how life is going to be.” He placed a muscular arm around Scullion and pulled him back to sit beside him on the lower bunk—Scullion’s bunk.
Scullion recognised the size and strength of his companion and was trying to be brave, but he wasn’t about to tell him to take his arm from around his shoulders. When the big man placed his other hand on Scullion’s thigh, he trembled but didn’t try to resist.
“Denise,” Grainger whispered close to Scullion’s ear. “I’m going to let you go it alone, and as soon as you come back from your first visit to the hospital wing, you can tell me if you’ve changed your mind, okay?”
“What do you mean, my first visit?”
“Well, you see, there are those who like a good hard fuck, and there are those who prefer a blowjob. If you still have your teeth after a week, I’ll be surprised.”
Scullion was trembling and aware of his rapid breathing. “I don’t believe you.”
Grainger kissed him softly on the cheek. “I’ll see you when you get back from the medics.”
Scullion didn’t go to lunch, but he joined the lines of men making their way to the mess hall for the evening meal. He was jostled in the queue, and when he eventually found a vacant seat and placed his tray on the table, he was hemmed in by a man on either side who squeezed him tight between them.
The new inmate tried to force his shoulders up to make room to use his hands, but he didn’t complain. His meal sat in the tray; untouched.
The man on the left said. “If you think this is tight, wait until my cock is rammed up between your sweet butt-cheeks.”
The man on the right said, “As long as you don’t try to bite, I’ll let you suck my cock at the same time.”
Grainger pulled out a chair and sat opposite Scullion and the two more prominent men. “Hello, boys.”
“Hi, Stranger,” the man on the left said.
“Hello, Big guy,” the other said.
Scullion's eyes were as big as saucers, and his lips were trembling. He looked across the table, but said nothing—and realised he didn’t have to because Grainger had assessed the situation.
“I hope you two weren’t threatening my new fucking cell-mate.” Grainger glared at both after registering the fear in Scullion’s eyes.
“Sorry, Stranger, we didn’t know you’d accepted some company.”
Scullion stared at his cell-mate, and when their eyes met, he swallowed, half-closed his eyes and gave an imperceptible nod.
Grainger grinned at the two who had ‘bookended’ Scullion. “I needed somebody in there with me for relief.” The big man flexed a muscular arm. “Do you think I’ve grown these fucking biceps in the gym?”
The other two prisoners laughed, and both eased away from their victim.
Scullion looked at Grainger again, received a faint smile, and a slow nod.
Since arriving back in the cell, the two men spoke a few times over the next three hours, but neither Grainger nor Scullion mentioned the incident in the mess room.
Scullion pointed to the half-dozen photos on the wall. They depicted a young blonde, posing in a variety of outfits, and all of them except one were revealing and sexy. In one picture the girl was dressed in lingerie and closing her lips around a banana in a suggestive pose.
“She’s gorgeous,” Scullion said. “Is she your girlfriend?”
“Nah, she’s my second wife. It wasn’t worth keeping any pictures of the first one—mainly because I’d never get a hard-on looking at her.” He gave a brief laugh, climbed onto his bunk and rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling.
“Lights out—five minutes.” The announcement was made by a prison officer walking along the central gangway.
“Are you looking at those pictures, Denise?”
“Yes, I was,” Scullion said. “Is it okay if I look at them?”
“Yeah, as long as they give you a hard-on.”
“They do—she’s beautiful. What’s her name?”
“You don’t need to know.”
The cell fell into total darkness, and then a faint light illuminated the space as the moon shone through the small cell window high on the exterior wall. A few minutes ticked by and apart from an occasional curse being shouted from one cell to another along the wing, there wasn’t much to hear.
“Thanks for earlier.” Scullion’s voice was timid. He lay on his back, staring at the sagging mattress of the bunk above him. The weight of his cell-mate was a test for the springs.
“I was gonna let you have a free night, Denise, but if you want to thank me, you could do it now.”
“I don’t understand—”
“I think you do, Denise. Do you wear pyjamas in bed?”
“Not usually—yes, I am.” Scullion wasn’t sure what to say for the best.
“I don’t. Why don’t you climb out of your bunk and have a look?”
“It’s okay, I don’t—”
“Climb out of your bed and have a fucking look, Denise.”
Scullion lifted his blanket, and as he swung his legs around and sat up, he glanced at the pictures of the woman in the semi-darkness. He stood and turned to face the double bunk.
Grainger was lying on his back naked, with his hands behind his head. Lying along his toned abdomen was his erect and considerable cock. The circumcised head glistened in the moonlight.
“I was gonna have a pull, Denise, but I thought you might like to do it for me, you know, out of gratitude.”
Scullion stared at the shaft which was twice the girth of his, and one and a half times the length. He was unaware he was panting and after a few seconds looked more closely at Grainger’s body. The man was muscular and in superb shape for a person who was incarcerated.
“You’re looking at me as if you’ve never seen a naked man before, Denise. Get on with it.”
“What do you—”
Grainger got up on one arm and looked his cell-mate in the eye. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do to make it easier for you. You can use your hands to bring me off the first couple of times, and then we’ll take it a bit further.”
Scullion continued to stare, his arms akimbo.
“Take it in your hand, Denise.” The big man rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.
“I’m grateful for your help earlier, but I don’t think I can—”
Grainger half-turned. “Denise, I have two choices where your body is concerned. First, I could pimp you out to other inmates. Your arse and mouth will be ruined inside a week, but I’ll have the best bargaining chip in prison. Second, I can provide you with protection and keep you for myself.”
“What if I—”
“You’re not listening to me, sweetheart—you don’t have any choices. Now, I’m gonna lie back and wait, but you’ve got ten seconds to start being nice, or I’ll have to give you some dental treatment, followed by a fleshy suppository.” He laughed and fell onto his back again.
Scullion slowly lifted his left hand up and reached across the top bunk. He placed his fingertips on the hot, throbbing shaft and slowly closed his fist to hold Grainger’s cock in a loose grip. He moved his hand up and down and watched himself as he performed.
“Ahh, that’s nice, Denise, and so much better than doing it myself. Hold it tighter—good.”
Scullion changed hands after a few minutes and then held the considerable member upright and used both hands.
The big man panted. “Oh, yes … Denise, faster … faster.”
“What about when—”
“Don’t worry … about that … oh, yes.” Grainger gasped. “Kiss the head … go on … kiss the fucking head.”
Scullion dreaded putting his mouth near the other man’s cock but stood on his tiptoes. As Grainger half-turned his body, Scullion moved his lips closer to the big cock. A big hand went around Scullion’s head and pulled him forward, and the cock was thrust into his mouth.
“Good girl … Denise … now, swallow … aahhh—”
Scullion had let go of the cock and was gripping the edge of the bunk as the shaft of flesh was thrust in and out of his mouth. A firm hand ensured his head stayed in position. A hot jet of cum hit the back of his throat, and he tried not to swallow, but the cock was kept in his mouth. Not only did he take the first two spurts, but he also sucked and licked to finish the job when urged by the hand behind his head.
“Don’t you dare … spit it out … Denise.”
Scullion was standing close, gripping the edge of the double-bunk, trying to deal with his mouth full of cock. He became aware of something else. The big man’s, other hand was reaching down into Scullion’s pyjamas and taking hold of his cock—his aroused cock.
“Oh, Denise,” Grainger sneered. “You’re a naughty girl. You’re pretending not to be interested, and there you are all ready to shoot your load in your jammies.” The big man let go. “Stand back from the bunks and take off your pyjamas.”
Scullion was embarrassed beyond belief but obediently stepped back, licking the residual cum from his lips. He reluctantly pulled off his pyjamas and stood there in the semi-darkness, naked—his hard-on fading, but still in evidence.
“Now, give yourself a pull, Denise.”
“If I have to get off this fucking bed, Denise—now do as you’re told.”
As embarrassing as it was, Scullion masturbated. He stepped to one side so he could glance at the pictures of the semi-naked woman. A few seconds later he felt a hand on his shoulder pulling him to the bunks.
“Turn this way, Denise—I want to watch.”
Scullion glanced up at the flaccid, but massive cock as he masturbated. In a short time, he was panting. “I’m coming … I’m coming.”
“Catch it in your hand, Denise, don’t make a mess on my fucking floor.”
Scullion’s body trembled as he shot his load into his free hand and stood there sighing.
“Now, lick your hand clean. Don’t fucking look at me—eat it, and lick your hand clean.”
Five minutes later, in a quiet, semi-dark cell, Scullion lay staring up at the mattress above him. He thought back to the two men in the mess hall and realised things could be worse—far worse.
Scullion’s time inside was not going to be easy to endure. He slept fitfully.
On the second night, a few minutes after lights-out, Grainger climbed down from his bed and stood to face the two bunks. “Denise, swing your legs out and sit up on the edge of your bed.”
Scullion had heard the bare feet land on the floor. He lay there, waiting, and knowing that it meant he’d be performing a service. He threw back the blanket and turned to sit on the edge of his bunk. Straight in front of him was Grainger’s big, throbbing cock; the tip glistening in the moonlight.
“Hold it in both hands, Denise, and treat it like a big tasty lollipop … yes, that’s the way.”
Scullion hoped against hope that things didn’t get worse than a blowjob, even if it was a blowjob every night. Perhaps it would stay this way if he did well. He licked along the length of the massive cock, marvelling as he did at the size and girth of the thing. Without being told, he parted his lips and took the head into his mouth and used his tongue.
“Clever girl,” Grainger murmured. “You’re good with—that lovely tongue.”
As Scullion settled into a steady back and forward movement of his head, rolling his tongue around the hot shaft, he felt two big hands take hold of his head, and he was face-fucked. He tried to breathe through his nose, but he gagged as the shaft was thrust to the back of his throat. His greatest worry was not hurting this guy with his teeth—because he wanted to keep them.
When he was reaching the point of no return, Grainger speeded up the movement of his hips but made shorter thrusts, until finally he shot his load and buried his cock in Scullion’s hot mouth.
At the end of the first week, Scullion had been threatened twice, but Grainger had stepped in and prevented a nasty ‘accident’ by warning-off other inmates.
On Monday of the second week together, Scullion was invited to climb up onto Grainger’s bunk.
“Tonight, we’ll see if you can do it all without hands, Denise.”
Scullion was kneeling between the big man’s legs sucking and didn’t use his hands, but when the eruption was about to take place, two big hands held his head down, and Grainger’s hips thrust up and down rapidly.
On the next night, Scullion was given the privilege of kneeling between Grainger’s legs and jerking himself off over Grainger’s huge cock. He then had to lick the big shaft clean as he sucked off the other man.
As he lay in his bunk in the dark on the next night, Scullion had to admit to himself that his cell-mate and protector had kept his word.
Grainger ensured nobody took advantage of his companion, and in the semi-darkness of each evening, he received his pleasure in special favours from Scullion.
The smaller man wondered daily, how far he’d be expected to go?
By the end of the second week, Scullion had experienced something slightly different every couple of nights. On various occasions, he’d licked his own juices from Grainger’s cock, balls, belly, nipples, buttocks and anus. It was the nether regions which caused the most exceptional level of pleasure—Scullion would remember.
“Do you know what tonight is, Denise?”
“Sunday, I think.”
“Yes, but it’s our third week anniversary, and time to step things up in the bedroom.” He held out a hand towel with a few items wrapped inside. “Do you know what these things are?”
“No, it looks like some kind of little rubber pump.”
“I had to call in a few favours to get these, and they’re for you.”
“For me. I don’t understand.”
“The big tube is a lubricating gel, and the other things are a personal enema kit, so you can clean yourself out for me.”
“Count yourself lucky, Denise. Most bitches get fucked up the arse bareback and then have to lick the cock clean. If you use this a while after dinner, I’ll have a doze on my bunk to give you some privacy, and you can be nice and clean for bedtime.”
“Oh, please, don’t—”
“Denise, I insist. I’m giving you some privacy to get ready for me.” He leant forward and pecked Scullion on the cheek. Grainger paused for a moment, and then took Scullion’s face in both hands before kissing him full on the lips.
Scullion tried to fight the kiss, but his lips parted as his mouth was invaded by the other man’s tongue. He prayed Grainger didn’t reach down and touch the front of his trousers.
Fuck it—too late.
“Oh, Denise, you like being kissed by me, don’t you?”
When the lights went out, Scullion had already prepared himself physically. To live with himself, he kept in mind that Grainger had stepped in at least three times a week and prevented a severe assault by one or more other inmates. Perhaps being Grainger’s bitch was a small price.
“Get up here, you sweet thing, Denise.”
Scullion climbed up, naked and knelt between Grainger’s sturdy legs. He placed his hands on the other man’s thighs and looked down at the enormous throbbing cock lying before him. Alarmingly, his cock was stiff too and stood proudly, gently swaying to his front. A big hand reached across and held the smaller shaft before sliding up and down.
“Do you like that, Denise?”
“Mmm.” Scullion couldn’t speak and had to admit he was massively turned on. “It’s nice.”
“Maybe if you’re still stiff when I’ve filled you up, I’ll give you a little pull.” He smiled. “Have you used lots of lube on your tight little arsehole?”
“Yes—please don’t push it straight in.”
“You worry about getting it inside you, and I’ll worry about how far up I want to push—now squat down on me and let’s lose your virginity.”
Scullion moved his knees forward and squatted over the huge cock. As he reached down and lifted the tumescent shaft, Grainger’s hands reached beyond him to pull Scullion’s buttocks wide apart.
“Okay, sweetie,” Grainger whispered. “I’ll keep you open, and you take your time, but get it inside you.”
Scullion descended several times and tried to apply pressure, but each time he gasped and raised himself up again. He looked at the ceiling and parted his lips as he made another attempt. A massive pressure built up on his rosebud, and then he realised the big hands had released his buttocks. Grainger’s hands had moved to grip Scullion’s waist.
“Now,” Grainger gasped and thrust his hips. “Oh, my fucking God, I’m in, Denise, and you are so fucking tight.”
“Fuck.” Scullion squatted there in the semi-darkness, eyes bulging and lips parted, breathing fast and deep as the shock and pain of the insertion registered mentally and physically. “You’re fucking huge.”
“Thank you, Denise, and you’re fucking hot, or at least your arse is hot. Okay, my girl, now up and down, nice and slow. Let’s both enjoy this, eh?”
For a few minutes, Scullion eased himself up and down as gently as possible but felt as if the thing inside him was touching internal organs. It was massive, and most strangely, he was trying to become accustomed to it. He looked down to see his cock standing erect, and then he made the mistake of looking at the man who was shafting him.
Grainger was grinning. “I think you’re enjoying yourself, Denise. Bend forward, but don’t let my cock slip out—because I’ll have to push it back in.”
Scullion bent forward, clenching his sphincter muscles tight to hold the big shaft, unknowingly creating an enjoyable new experience for his partner. At least unknowing, until Grainger gasped.
“Kiss me, Denise, and let’s have a proper one.”
When their lips met, Grainger’s tongue explored and then Scullion joined in, slowly at first, and then with a bit of effort, which got more moans of acknowledgement from below.
As Scullion had leant forward, he’d no idea what would happen apart from the kiss, but he was soon to find out. He was no longer in a position to maintain control, but it didn’t matter, because as soon as they kissed, he felt himself being fucked slowly and gently by the big guy.
After a short time, there was a terrific sensitivity somewhere near his rectum, and Scullion panted rapidly. “Please … just there … yes, like that … fuck … I’m coming.”
“Good girl,” Grainger gasped and looked down between them.
They both looked down to see Scullion’s cock spurt spontaneously as he enjoyed the strangest orgasm of his life. He’d never experienced attention to his ‘P’ spot. As his body released, he jerked himself around on the big cock, which in turn aroused the man beneath him.
Grainger sunk his cock inside three more times and then kept it thrust deep when he shot his load. “God … that was … fucking amazing … Denise.”
When they’d shared for two months, and Scullion was feeling brave, he waited until late evening before making his suggestion.
“Grainger, it’s a great feeling having a little bit of attention around your hole … and I thought maybe I could—”
“Yeah, have you got a nice surprise for me—like you want to use your tongue on me?”
“I thought you might like me slipping a finger inside you, and I could try to do that thing you’ve done to me.”
“Oh, you mean, like coming without using your hand?”
“Yes, and I thought maybe you could use the enema kit … and if you like, I could help.”
“Why would I need to be all clean inside if it’s only your finger?”
“Well, I’d want to keep my fingers clean for when I was holding your cock afterwards to lick.”
That night at lights-out, Scullion climbed up onto the top bunk and asked Grainger to get on all fours. Scullion knelt between the sturdy legs and squirted a lot of gel over the big, toned, buttocks. He caressed the area and then probed with a finger. When Grainger gasped, the finger went in completely. The big buttocks were thrust back, and Scullion introduced another finger. He kept one hand on Grainger’s hip.
“Does that feel okay?” Scullion whispered.
“Yeah, and I know … it’s not like … what I give you … but it’s kind of nice.”
Scullion squeezed more gel to drip down Grainger’s crack. He then took his life in his hands, or more accurately Grainger’s buttocks, as he pulled them wide apart and moved forward to touch the glistening, puckered hole with the head of his throbbing cock.
“Two … fingers,” Scullion gasped. His cock was nothing like Grainger’s, but it was a cock. He pushed a little, and the buttocks came back towards him, so he pushed a little harder and lifted one hand from the other man’s hip. The considerable amount of gel made it more comfortable.
“Three fingers,” Scullion gasped again and moved his hips back and forward slowly. “Three fingers … up your arse—”
Scullion’s hips stopped moving. “Yes?” He thought he was about to die.
“Wrap both of your arms … around my waist.”
“How can I, if—”
“Do it … Denise … and let me have … those … three fingers ….”
Scullion felt tears build up as he leant forward and rested his chest and abdomen on Grainger’s broad back while wrapping his arms tight around his thick waist. Scullion’s slim hips moved a little quicker.
“Give it to me … Denise … go on, girl … push those three fingers in deep … until you come.”
“I’m coming, I’m coming—” Scullion panted and forced himself not to sob.
“Oh, fuck—I can feel it.” Grainger stayed in the kneeling position for a few seconds longer. “Right, Denise … when you’ve finished … get underneath me … I want to fuck your face.”
Scullion got underneath willingly, and while being rammed in the mouth, he reached up between Grainger’s muscular thighs and toyed with the big guy’s hole. The noises he heard told him he was doing the right thing.
By the time they’d been in the cell together for three months, by merely teasing and being obedient, Scullion led the big man into trying a variety of positions, until finally he achieved a huge goal and got Grainger to agree to a sixty-nine. Scullion was told to keep his eyes closed so he didn’t know how his cock was being massaged, although it certainly felt like a mouth.
Having the cell doors locked for hours during the day had become standard practice while the prison remained overcrowded and understaffed, and a couple of unruly groups of prisoners were isolated and moved to other parts of the prison. In the final phase of the moves, a fire was started on the ground floor, and the alarm was sounded.
Instead of a disciplined escape from the wing, two prison officers were assaulted, and a handful of prisoners ran amok. Those wishing to avoid dying in the fire followed the rules and used the prescribed route to get out to the exercise yard.
As Scullion passed the gym on his way to the nearest fire exit, he was pulled inside by rough hands.
“Get your fucking hands off of me, Cartwright.”
“It’s not my hands you want to worry about, Scullion. While the other fuckers are pissing about with my little fire, we’re going to have some quality time in here in the gym equipment room. I’m not selfish though, I’ve got two mates with me.”
Scullion was being held tight around the arms by Cartwright, and his mind raced. He threw his head back and butted the other man in the face. When he was released, he stepped forward and swung a foot into Cartwright’s groin.
Two more pairs of hands gripped him, but before they could drag him away the door opened, and as black smoke billowed in the corridor, Grainger came into the gym. He paused long enough to kick Cartwright in the face for good measure, and then he went forward against the other two.
“Get out of here, Dennis. You can’t do anything. If these two want fucking, I’ll fuck both of them.”
Scullion was stunned—hearing his name. The whole situation was beyond him. He knew he could do nothing to help, and ran from the gym, coughing in the thick smoke outside. He went in search of Mr Jessop in the yard.
Nobody else left the gym, because while Grainger fought the other two men, the ceiling collapsed due to the fire.
At the graveside, Scullion turned to his escort. “Mr Jessop, could we go over so I can offer my condolences to Grainger’s family?”
“Are you gonna behave yourself?”
Scullion looked down at the wrist which was cuffed to the prison officer. “Yes, I haven’t got a long enough term to fuck it up by running.”
“Keep that thought in mind.” PO Jessop reached down and released his prisoner from the cuffs. “You’ve got five minutes.”
“I’m grateful, Mr Jessop.” Scullion walked across to the two women who’d remained at the other side of the grave.
Both relatives looked at the approaching prisoner.
“Mrs Grainger, my name is Scullion—”
“Are you, Dennis?” The younger woman stared into his eyes.
“Yes … I’m … Dennis.” He felt a deep sense of gratitude for the small mercy of hearing his proper name.
“How long were you Ron’s cell-mate?”
“A short while—maybe three months.”
“I’m Belinda, his sister, and this is our mum.”
“Thank you.” The older woman took a step forward to embrace the prisoner. “He mentioned you in a letter every week from when you moved into his cell. You made his life bearable.”
“You ladies have my deepest condolences. I didn’t know … Ron, for long, but we shared a lot together. He may have been in prison, but believe me, he died a hero.”
Both women burst into tears.
“May I ask, why neither of his wives made an effort to come to his funeral?”
The women exchanged a look of bewilderment before Belinda explained.
“Ron’s father abused him. I was only twelve the day the dirty bastard came after me. Ron stabbed him in the neck and killed him.” She gave a weak smile. “Ron was only sixteen then and became a victim of the system. He was put into a juvenile institution and never had as much as a girlfriend.”
“Surely he could have done his time and got released?”
“He was attacked and defended himself, which put the other guy in the hospital and extended Ron’s sentence. It became a matter of honour to tackle him, and he gained a reputation.”
“Had he never been freed?”
“He was out once for a week, and had to fight off two guys, but he got arrested again.” Belinda looked down into the grave. “He’d been incarcerated since he was a teenager, but he’s free now.”
“What about the photos of a girl on his cell wall?”
Belinda smiled. “Is it a sexy young blonde?”
“Yes, Ron said it was his second wife—”
“I asked Denise, a friend of mine to have those pictures taken to brighten up Ron’s cell.” She turned. “Hey, Mum, how strange is that? Ron’s fantasy girl on his wall was Denise, and the only cell-mate he ever had was called Dennis.”
Two days after the funeral, Scullion was walking along the gangway to his cell when three prisoners blocked his passage. He stopped and looked each of them in the eye, slowly and deliberately. Inside he was quaking, but he had to hold his nerve.
Baxter, a big man spoke. “We’ve just been discussing which one of us should have you first, now that your friend has moved on—to underground solitary confinement.”
The three men laughed.
“Grainger always pretended I was his bitch, but I could help you with your problem.” Scullion took a breath and hoped he could deal with this.
Baxter nodded and smiled at the others. “I told you, boys, it would be easy. Go on, Scullion—how can you help us?”
“Whichever one of you wants to wake up with his balls in his mouth—that's the one who can lay a fucking hand on me.”
The three inmates stared at Scullion.
He nodded. “I thought so. The authorities in here are still saying I’m in for fucking theft—well, I suppose it is theft when you take another man’s balls off—with a fucking blade.” Scullion was grateful for one of the tips Grainger had given him. ‘Always bluff the bastards by pretending to be in for something serious’.
“I hope you’re not threatening fellow inmates, Scullion.” Mr Jessop shouted as he approached.
Scullion was delighted. Hearing Mr Jessop saying such a thing in front of inmates would be good for his credibility—and keep him a little safer. He walked past the three staring men.
Late in the evening, Mr Jessop paused beside Scullion’s cell, in which he now resided alone.
“Hello, Mr Jessop.”
“I’ll be coming to visit you for a little favour, shortly after lights-out … Denise.”
A tale from 'Quiet Night Inn: and other erotic stories'
Wednesday 13th June 2018
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