Doug Ellis Ch. 07

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Moments of tenderness are few inside a male prison institution. That is not because Jails have an insufficiency of love, compassion, companionship and many other things we take for granted when we are cared for. It is a gross oversimplification of a massively complex psychological maze, more because there is so much need, that care must be shared among so many in dire need, that those working or living in the environment who do care, and many do, would be sucked dry by the great “Compassion Sponge”. Many crack under that burden anyway; staff and inmates. Most develop some sort of safety valve in order to limit the effect of the grief around generated by so many shattered lives. Most of the inmates fucked up their own lives somehow but what is left still has needs that go beyond shelter, food and water.

Word got back to the lifer unit, via the hospital cleaners that Ellis was admitted in a semi conscious state following his “Interview” in security. This was enough to lay suspicions about Ellis’ relationship with the security department but curiosity spawned rumour like wildfire as tongues wagged and hasty conclusions were jumped to. No-one got near to guessing the truth and no-one was going to get to hear it from the perpetrators.

Phillip Goodall, by now used to the shelter afforded by such a powerful cellmate grew anxious when Ellis did not return to the wing. On one level he was concerned for Ellis’ well being when he learned that what had started out as an interview in security ended in hospital. The deep truth had not emerged, just the drama on the surface. Goodall was a long term survivor in institutions and instinctively, selfishly, he feared what might happen to him if Doug didn’t come back and…” what would the new man to share his cell be like?”

Meanwhile, in one of those rare moments of tenderness, Ellis was carefully and sensitively examined in the hospital that night, the external tissue trauma recorded and a report made. Mysterious injuries and even deaths occur inside secure institutions with alarming frequency and staff at all levels are expected to give evidence on what occurred but also to close ranks to protect the reputation of the “Service” (including the criminal actions of individuals) as well as the institution. The nature of such an incidence of obvious brutality requires that some evidence was recorded, if someone started hurling allegations, plausibility and concrete proof was the best defense. However, this document was not placed with others detailing the date and time of Ellis’ admission. In fact, nobody but the maker of the report and Ellis, who still appeared to be unconscious at the time of its making, would know that such an examination had taken place. After 36 hours, when Ellis returned to the lifer unit and the simple record of his admission mysteriously disappeared, Singleton could be satisfied that nobody would be able to demonstrate what had happened if questions were asked. Though it would not incriminate Singleton nor Dursley, at least the hospital could be assured that if and when the shit hit the fan, they would not be in the firing line. What is more, the needs of a damaged human being were met with skill and compassion directly, even if one potential pathway to justice was well disguised.

Doug Ellis would not have expected to draw on the good will of hospital staff as witnesses even if he had intended to press charges. This had been, by no means, the most serious physical abuse he had suffered, though it ranked high in the rating of sexual abuse meted out to him. Thanks mainly to his extraordinary control of the situation, his injuries were superficial and nobody understood anger management better. He was serving a full life term for a premeditated act of revenge and his life could be made so much worse by a program of protest, even through proper channels, which may or may not eventually lead to judicial redress. Getting even had got him ‘life’. So, along with everything else, he filed it away.

The ego of Frank Singleton was far too great to be much troubled by concerns about overstepping the mark with Ellis and as usual Dursley was off somewhere, admiring his ripped muscularity in any passing reflection, be it shop window or the glossy paintwork of a car he admired almost as much. Arrogant and vain, the pair of them but Dursley wasn’t watching who was watching him and was too thick skinned, too pumped full of testosterone to realise he was expendable, even vulnerable. He’d grown used to the ‘shock and awe’ effect his casino oyna body had on women and men alike and thanks to Singleton’s little training sessions, he was always hungry for the high which Singleton himself derived from totally dominating physically powerful people.

Men in the prison, resented Dursley but occasionally there would be one who risked the fuming, violent, masculine aura of the man for a chance to improve their lot. Dursley would pimp these men around the landings at night. If they wanted his body, they would often settle for satisfying someone else for a small reward. Those who wouldn’t do sexual favours often carried the little deliveries he wanted done of contraband he’d bring in from contacts arranged by Singleton on the outside. As a regular officer, with little seniority and considerable distrust, he could not just roam the prison and needed ‘trustees’ collaboration to get his smuggled items to their destinations. However, there was one inmate, eyeing up Dursley on a regular basis, had used the privilege of his daily duties to see every inch of that extraordinary sculpted, tanned and tattooed body over and over again, as the man tortured his sinews in the prison gym and then as he luxuriated under the shower afterwards.

Alun Dent, one of the gym orderlies, carefully made sure nobody else noticed his minute examinations, as with great effort he restrained his salivating, the pumping of his blood and intense pressure in his temples. Dent himself was a fanatical addict to exercise, his small frame was tightly packed with hard powerful muscle and for his size he was immensely strong. He trained for strength, not for beauty, he used no enhancement, his muscle grew tightly packed and powerful just from working again and again with the weights. The feeling was so strong in him when the effort came close to tearing his muscle fibre and when, in recovery they once again made him aware of his physique, that he understood his addiction completely. He didn’t mind a bit when Dursley left the biggest dumbbells all round the place, Dent liked a tidy tight and compact gym that reflected him personally. Several times per week Dent was left in the gym after the prisoners were taken back to their cells, locked down with the weights he would deep clean and make the tatty old tiles of the shower their best as if it were part of him. Then, on a regular basis he would be alone with the phenomenon that was Lee Dursley as the swaggering bully arrived for his workout.

Around the institution, Dent was nicknamed “wolf man” or “little wolf” , as the extraordinary pelt of dark hair that ran unkempt down his back and across his shoulders and frothed excessively from under his prison issue white tee shirt contrasted starkly with his pale skin. It got him noticed and was a badge of masculinity that his small stature denied him and it disguised like a camouflage net, the artillery of his compact musculature. In another way, 5 feet 4 inches and hung, Dent is unusual, but really hung.

Dent’s task, to conceal his sexual excitement at the sight of Dursley’s “bent over fly” his “squats”, his “bench rowing”, his ‘washing that muscle arse of his in the shower,’ was made all the more taxing by the possession of such a massively thick and long uncut dong which could reach the furry cleft in his chest at full erection. He was a genuinely priapic, God of a man .

Dursley was happy enough to soak his own, wholly adequate knob in the guts of another man in order to demonstrate his superiority in every way, it gave him a frisson he couldn’t generate inside a woman’s body, however, he was not inclined to admire the male sex and most certainly would not take pleasure to receive 11 inches of rock hard, pulsating man flesh passionately shoved up his own arse and pumped like a demolition hammer in the interests of someone else’s pleasure. So, as there was no way Dent was going to oblige Dursley’s sadism without the chance to stuff his raging monster cock into the tender puckered hole of the nasty officer, Alun Dent had to content himself with private fantasy. However, these obsessions have a way of eating at you, don’t they? Love would find a way, a peculiar, unrequited love, in peculiar circumstances, would have to find a peculiar way.

Dent had only 18 months until parole and he had big plans for a new life as a personal trainer. Mr. Bantock had seen to it that all the certification available had been studied for and there were few people around better qualified or better experienced canlı casino than he. From anatomy to nutrition, from calisthenics to power lifting, Dent was primed with the coaching skills. So however he longed to taste Lee Dursley’s tanned and tattooed man meat and to stretch his uptight, self important arshole good and wide around his mamouth prick, Dent wouldn’t risk a potential future for five minutes of fucking. Whereas Dursley was too impetuous and gave not the slightest thought to such a risk in a passing sexual encounter.

He’d rubbed the soap enthusiastically into his genitals at the thought of his ‘breaking in’ of the massively muscular Doug Ellis but in his ego he had already forgotten the disempowerment implied in the manner of his orgasm, the way it seemed snatched away from him, electrifying though it had been.

Mr. Bantock’s return to the building, signalled by the jangle of the great keys he carried, brought Dent out of his fascination,. Odd, he thought, that Harry Bantock, his mentor, didn’t stir his lust in that way. Every bit the powerful male athlete but none of the strange animal magnetism of Dursley somehow. Great strength in thighs, butt, abs, chest, shoulders, arms, he’d be such a buzz to fuck with, a real powerhouse of a sexual partner.

Perhaps his gaze tarried too long on the body of the boss, maybe there was something about him after all, he’d always assumed that Bantock’s interest was entirely professional, focussed in on the precise perfection of an exercise but maybe his focus was deeper in the muscle than Dent thought. What about the way he studied Ellis in his power squats, as the bar bent over the big man’s shoulders and he lowered his arse towards the mat, perhaps that look on Bantock’s face was disguising more admiration than a coach would usually be prepared to display? Sure, he wanted Ellis to do well, as he did with all the boys but it was a special pride he held for the work of that big fella, Ellis, for sure.

In a typical, Official way, Bantock, legs planted wide and confident, hands clasped behind him in relaxed anticipation, coughed gently to remind Dent that he was not alone with his thoughts. Alas for Dent, his great, throbbing horse cock had sprung into life and the prison issue joggers and shorts were hopelessly poor camouflage for the flesh tube extending down the powerful little prisoner’s furry leg as he turned to face the boss. It was as Bantock’s face flushed red that Dent knew his deductions about Bantock were at least in part true.

He said “Sorry, Boss.” in a modest tone, almost as if her were actually ashamed, even though he felt no such embarrassment. He hefted his impossibly thick rod with his left hand as if endeavoring to conceal his erection. A look of horrified fascination flashed almost imperceptibly across Bantock’s face before he pulled himself together and ordered Dent into his tiny office as Dursley, oblivious, moved in the other direction towards the changing room.

Once again an impossible situation crashed over Bantock but at least his presence of mind was clear enough to realise he had made this man’s potential future and could derail it very easily. He released his cock and balls from the stifling pressure of his gym shorts and for only the second time in his entire life stood sexually aroused in front of another man. Dent was not about to pass up an opportunity such as this and fell forward onto his knees expertly swallowing the whole of Bantock’s entirely adequate cock and taking his breath away. Once the head of Harry’s cock was in his throat, Dent could wrestle free from his own shorts and the relief of letting out his bent and squashed in erection brought tears to his eyes. Once this was accomplished he started to use circular breathing and his throat muscles to work on Bantock’s rock hard cock occasionally backing off to lap tenderly and delightedly at the glans and Bantock’s piss slit as a succession of tiny gasps and the rolling of astonished eyes countered Dent’s contented purrs of satisfaction.

Dent had hurt more than a few men who had craved his magnificent fuck tool, some pretty seriously. Much as Dent was gagging to pinion the gym supremo now he was a quivering mess in Dent’s hot mouth, he was not about to exert his lust on a heavier man he could probably not subdue and rupturing Bantock’s inside could not fail to bring about the orderly’s downfall. Besides, he was having a great time, confined in the tight space of the little office, his cock bouncing up against his belly kaçak casino as he sucked, supporting himself by gripping the hard, globular buttocks of his mentor.

Gently easing off the tumescent glans with a few laps and kisses, looking up into Bantock’s amazed face, he massaged Bantock’s arse with his powerful paws and as he reached out with the tip of his tongue for the very end of Bantock’s cock he touched the tight and frightened button of Bantock’s anus with his thick index finger. As if a bolt of electricity had shot through him, Bantock’s legs buckled and an incoherent grunt rose from his throat. With an audible thump, he fell back against the door but he let go as Dent plunged forward once more into Bantock’s pubic hair. As the slippery wet rocket crammed back into the lunging gullet of the kneeling wolf-man, Dent pressed his finger back into the hairy forest around Bantock’s spasming anus and touched it again. Bantock’s wad swelled like a bow wave up from his guts and out through the constriction of Dent’s massaging throat, his massive thighs, strained, quaking and shaking with the unconscious effort, so far out of his control as to seem dis-embodied. Dent kept the whole of his boss’ penis entirely submerged and continued to milk Bantock’s balls, rippling the muscles of his talented throat, forcing the bigger man to judder again and again in a daze of sexual bliss he could never have conceived of knowing.

While Bantock was totally helpless, Dent turned him carefully towards the door and began to snuffle his stubbled face into Bantock’s arse, half expecting the coach to regain consciousness and call time-out but far from it. Bannock whimpered and back his arse right out onto Dent’s face, endeavouring to envelope it completely with his downy buttocks as Dent expertly drilled his way towards the big man’s greatest asset. Gripping the gym officer’s massive quads, Dent pulled himself in as Bantock pushed back and Dent now knew that one day, not today but one day, the Little Wolf would be banging on that big man arse for sure and Bantock would be begging him to split him in two with his jackhammer fucking.

How’s that for a vision of the future? Thought the diminutive orderly.

Still on his knees, with his face as far into the warmth and welcome of Harry Bantock as he could press himself, Dent spluttered his own orgasm and squirted a foot of jizz across the vinyl flooring towards the gap under the door. Bantock continued to gasp for breath, chest heaving, and as he felt the trumpeting against his ring, he popped his nut again, all over the back of the door, his face pathetically squashed, helpless, ecstatically distorted against the institutional grey-green paintwork. There they stayed for 30 seconds, a minute, two. Dent still lapping automatically at the delighted organ he had discovered. Bantock, spluttering breath, so disorientated and confused by his lust and his emotions as to have utterly become somebody else in 10 minutes. Destroyed and remade.

First to his senses, Dent, even distracted as he was, his member, drooping slightly but still throbbing with sexual delight, his shining knob, connected by a thread-like drool from it’s tip to the glob on the floor, saw a shadow move in the light coming from the other side of the door. All the noises they had been producing, undeniably sexual in nature, transmitted to the eavesdropping officer on the other side.

As the action quieted, Dursley said nothing, turned his key in the gate and left the building, his footsteps echoing in the courtyard outside as he turned towards the security headquarters. “After all,” he thought with a filthy grin, “You never know when you need a lever on somebody.”

Realising the significance of Dursley’s witness, shocked Bantock into consciousness and he turned back sharply into the room, leaving a print of saliva on his stubbled face and cum dribbles down the paintwork.

“Wha..” was all he could initially manage as a surge of panic overcame him and his eyes popped at the thought of possible consequences as he struggled for coherence.

He looked down at the mess between his legs, at the skid of cum and the furry little man who had launched it. Dent’s chiseled face looked up into his and he winked, they both had so much to lose but had just felt something that kind of made it all okay and for the first time in weeks Bantock laughed out loud at the absurdity of the situation. They had gone so far beyond the credible that it no longer mattered. Dent straightened slightly and was able to reach the dome of Bantock’s penis slurping it back into his mouth, relishing it and the bigger man, reaching down, planted a big, masculine hand on the back of his head and petted the little wolf.

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