May 11, 2008

The Prisoner

Posted in stories tagged at 2:58 pm by littlesubmissions

She leaned over so he would see himself reflected in the mirrored sunglasses, and then slapped him across the face. While he tried to wake up she sat down hard on his chest and pinned his arms to the bed with her knees. Another slap and she began barking orders in a loud, clear voice into his sleep addled brain. “Convict 84, why the hell are you still in bed?! The 0-800 bell sounded ten minutes ago, and your lazy ass is still in an unmade bunk!”

The bed jostled as she stood up on it and dragged one foot along his thigh until a big, ugly boot rested on the front of his underwear. She put a little weight on it and smiled at the “Oomph!” he gave. His legs jerked up and his hands started towards her foot until she screamed at him again. “Don’t touch that boot convict, unless you want it up your ass! Now I’ll explain again: The 0-800 bell rang! You have ten minutes to get your ass out of bed and have your bunk ready for inspection! Is this bunk ready for inspection?!” She punctuated the end of each sentence by pushing down with her foot, watching him wince and grab hold of the sheets to keep his hands from moving to protect his testicles.

After a deep breath he finally managed to croak out, “No, I don’t know, I guess I overslept.”

She shook her head, and emphasized each word by rubbing the rough sole of her boot over the outline of his delicate cock and balls. Her voice was softer but each word was just as clearly spoken between his gasps and twitches. “You. Will. Address Me. As. Warden. You. Stinking. Convict.”

The bed bounced again as he threw himself hard back into the mattress, and nodded frantically. “Yes warden, sorry warden.”

She took her foot off his groin, and hopped down to the floor. “Better.” She grabbed his ear and pulled while he reached down to massage his aching balls. “Don’t just lay there playing with yourself con, you’ve got work to do.” She pulled on his ear again, harder, twisting this time and he hissed in pain and rolled out of bed.

“Arms up!” His arms went up, and she let go of his ear long enough to pull his t-shirt over his head and off. She threw it on the floor, and then grabbed the front of his underwear. Pulling it out until the elastic stretched to the limit she looked down at him, smirking. “Don’t you dare wear these filthy rags in my prison, con. You can just go naked until you learn to control your filthy urges.” She let go and the elastic snapped back. He hooked his hands into the waist and pushed down, and his underwear hit the floor. Two short steps and he was naked before her.

She took out a magic marker, then clamped the lid between her teeth and pulled. The black ink made a circle on his chest, traveling around his right nipple and then continuing down in a spiral. The petroleum smell filled their heads as she wrote a large “84” on his chest, directly over his heart. She gave her lips a long slow lick, then walked behind him. “Bend over con, prison regs say I own your ass, and I’ll have you numbered there as well.” The cool tip of the marker traced its way across his cheek, and two numerals later, he was marked as “84” front and rear. The marker hit the floor, and she moved back in front of him.

Long slender fingers wrapped around his head, holding it there before she pulled his lips down and into a kiss. “I own your ass, convict 84,” she purred. He kissed her again, and she grimaced, “And you have major dragon breath. Get your ass to the bathroom, I don’t have time to wait for you to learn how to make a bed.”

He laughed, and pushed a strand of loose hair back behind her ear. “Yes warden.” He smiled, then took off at a sudden run, sprinting down the hallway and leaving her in shocked silence. A second later the heavy clod of her boots followed him close behind. He stopped and turned after he got to the bathroom, grabbed the door frame with one arm and pulled her close with the other as they collided.

“Bad convict! You’ll be punished for trying to escape!”

He laughed and lifted her up off the floor in a tight hug, kissing the sides of her neck and working his way up to gently suck on her ear lobes. She shuddered and sighed, then grabbed one of his nipples and twisted hard. She didn’t let go until her feet hit the floor, then gave another twist just to hear him gasp in pain. He looked at her thoughtfully in the khaki pants and long sleeved blue denim shirt, while his hand massaged his nipple. “You’ve been watching Cool Hand Luke again, haven’t you warden?”

Her sudden pout was half sincere and half joke. “I want to spank Paul Newman, damnit!” She added a foot stomp, and then forced her face to become serious again. “And I’ve had enough of your nonsense 84! You’ll be showered and have those teeth brushed and report to the mess in ten minutes or I’ll take the belt to your ass until those numbers fall off!”

She turned and stomped off, leaving him alone. From down the hall, she could hear the shower turn on and water running in the sink. His gasp when he found out the shower water hadn’t warmed up made her smile, she’d turned the hot water heater off as soon as her own shower was done. She leaned against the counter, rubbing herself through the pants, imagining him jumping into the cold water, bouncing out, soaping himself up, and running back in to wash off. Small tremors of lust ran through her as she thought of the cold water running over his skin, making him tremble and shiver. The shower shut off, and she smiled down at the laundry basket she’d put all the towels in, sitting there on the kitchen floor.

The bathroom door shut, and she picked up his plate of scrambled eggs and walked to the trashcan. Her gaze was fixed firmly on the clock as she heard his wet footsteps pad into the kitchen. She watched the seconds count down, and ignored him when he cleared his throat. She pretended not to hear when he took another step forward and offered a hesitant, “Warden.” The second hand crossed twelve and she dumped the eggs in the garbage, and turned to look at his shivering, wet, and very naked form.

“Too late 84. If you want to lick the plate, I suppose I’d let you.” She set the plate on the floor, and slid it over to him with a nudge from her boot.

He looked from the plate to her, then shrugged. “If it’s all the same to you warden, I think I’ll just skip breakfast.”

Her eyebrow arched, but she shrugged back. “Suit yourself con, it’ll still be ready and waiting for you at supper time. Now get those hands behind your head, we’re late already and I have to get you ready to travel!”

He sighed as he put his hands together behind his head. Her fingers wrapped around his left wrist and yanked it down into the small of his back, and he felt and heard the hard metal of the handcuff click tight, digging into his skin. The right hand followed, and the second cuff ratcheted down and locked.

He tried to look back at her, but she pinched him hard on the ass as soon as she saw his neck turning. “Eyes front, convict.” Her breathing was getting faster, and he could feel her hot, humid breath rolling across his shoulders. He jumped when she threw the end of a long length of chain over his head and pulled it back into his neck, and she relaxed the tension in the metal links just a little. “Easy 84, easy. It’s just a chain. We use them to keep nasty, incorrigible boys like you in line.”

She watched his shoulders relax, and smiled when he mumbled a breathless, “Yes warden.”

She felt the heat rising in her as she pulled the chain tight again, letting the metal links dig into his neck and push the surrounding skin into a white line tracing his imprisonment. “Can you breathe 84?”

She swooned as he rasped out another affirmative, and pulled the chain across the crotch of her khaki pants. The links massaged her roughly, and she groaned as he swayed back when she pulled on the chain. The padlock slipped through the links, and with a click the chain was a secured collar. A miniature orgasm rolled through her, a small wave of pleasure that brought her back down a little. She undid her belt, and made a loop out of the end. She held the chain with one hand and gave her prisoner a hard smack across his ass with the belt in her other. “When I say march, you march to the back door convict. Keep this chain nice and tight, or you’ll get a taste of the belt. You’ll pause by the back door, and we’ll get you situated in your work detail uniform. Understood, 84?”

“Yes warden.”

The belt hit his ass just as she barked out the order to “March!” and he started walking. She followed a half step later, letting him pull her hand forward and lift it up, the weight of her arm keeping the chain pulled tight, making him conscious of every breath. Three more swats of the belt later, they arrived at the back door. She walked in front of him, slapping the leather belt into her hand. “Am I going to have any trouble with you convict?”

He shook his head, “No warden. No trouble from me.” The links of the chains rattled every time he moved.

She glared at him, then nodded curtly and walked back around. She undid one cuff, and his hands fell to his sides. “Turn around prisoner.”

He turned around and she slapped a tube of sunscreen into his hand. “Your work uniform convict, put it on.”

He squirted a generous blob into his hand, and began rubbing the cream into his face, working it into the hollows beneath his eyes and across his nose. She watched him, moaning when the dangling handcuffs clanked against the chain hanging down from his neck. He rubbed the cream into his chest and arms, and then down and into his legs.

She sighed, and gave him an exasperated look. “Give it here 84, you missed some spots.” She smeared the sunscreen into her hands, then rubbed them down his back, tracing his spine and spreading out to give him hard slaps on the ass before rubbing the lotion in. His back covered, she stepped in front of him and smiled. “Just one spot left.” She took a rubber cock ring out of her pocket, and slipped it down his penis, threading his balls through the loop. The tip of the bottle traced a line down the length of his cock, and she began to rub and massage the lotion into him. He got hard quickly, the flesh expanding and tightening in her hand. She added some more lotion to her palm, and rubbed his balls until his hips rocked and she could see the precum leaking out.

She teased him until his breath became short gasps, felt her own lust building, and then put her hands at her side. “Put your cuffs back on 84. Behind your back.”

He groaned and shuddered, then moved his hands behind his back and awkwardly locked the cuffs in place. She kissed him again, and smiled as he melted in her hands.

His eyes were still closed as she opened the door and picked up the chain. A sharp “March” hit his ears and he quickly moved forward to pull the leash tight as she hit him with quick, sharp slaps from the belt. She shouted directions as they walked, pulling on the chain to add emphasis. “Left” and the steel links dug into the soft skin of the left side of his throat. Too far, and he’d feel the chain start pulling right, scratching the skin on the other side of his body, and he’d move back that direction a little.

It wasn’t a large backyard, and they quickly came to the spot he’d tilled for the garden yesterday. He stopped when she yelled, “Halt,” and felt her let go of the chain, felt it fall and pull tight against his throat. She stood behind him, then smiled and planted a foot right on the 84 marked on his backside and pushed. With his hands still cuffed behind him he fell flat on his face in the dirt and she heard the breath rush out of him. “Right there con, in the dirt where you belong. Right fucking there.” She grabbed the end of the chain and walked over to a tent stake laying on the ground. The pointed end of the stake passed through a link in the chain, and she picked up a heavy mallet.

She could see him watching her out of the corner of his eye, not daring to move as she put the point of the tent stake to the ground and began giving slow, rhythmic blows with the mallet. Steel rang out as she staked him to the spot, driving the tent peg into the ground further with each blow. She began breathing hard, and felt the warm flush creep up her thighs into her pussy. The mallet blows continued to fall, and her hips rolled in time with the sound of metal on metal.

Clang, her hips went forward. Clang, her hips rolled back. Until the tent stake was buried in the ground, chaining him to that spot.

She walked back to him with a swagger, he could see the spring in her step from his worm’s eye view. She took the cuffs off his hands, and rolled him over with her boot. “Someone got dirt in my hole convict, dig it out.” Her footsteps took her out of the dirt and back towards the house, until she heard him cry out behind her. “Warden?”

“What is it, con?” Her hands were on her hips, and she felt her breath get shorter as he sat up and the chain pulled tight.

“There’s no shovel warden.”

“Use your hands.” She walked back into the house to change out of her dirty pants, leaving him outside, alone.

Standing at the window, she watched as he scooped up double handfuls of loose soil and threw it out of the hole. She slipped her pants off and shoved two fingers down her dampened underwear. Rubbing her clit, she watched as he crawled on all fours in the dirt. The soil clung to the excess sunscreen on his skin, turning it into mud and coating him. She saw the 84 she had scribed on his ass, still there and marking him. She clamped her eyes shut, and moaned loudly, forcing herself to pull her fingers away. Her pussy throbbed, and she made herself stand perfectly still, afraid that even the slightest friction from her underwear might make her cum. Breathing hard and shaking, she threw her pants in the washer and went to get a clean pair.

Freshly attired, she went outside and sat on the patio, watching him dig. She wanted to cum badly, could still feel the insistent ache in her pussy, but knew she couldn’t. If she came, she might show mercy on him, unchain him and shoo him into the shower. She needed that ache in her crotch, the fire in her gut to make him do these things. She needed that perverse animal lust to hurt him like this, to help her torture him. The same animal lust that was in him and made him submit, made him crawl naked in the dirt for her.

She watched his clean skin turn to mud, the dirt hanging on him and then falling off his body in heavy droplets. Down on all fours, scooping up handfuls of loose earth and rising to his knees to throw it over the side onto the grass. He sank lower as he dug deeper, and she watched as the loose soil gave way to hard clumps. He’d move forward, dragging the chain along behind him, until his knee struck a clod of dirt. Wincing and cursing, he’d reach back and pull it out from under his knee and throw it aside. He kept digging, turning to look at her sometimes. She’d smile, and he’d drop back to all fours, gouging the earth loose with his sore fingers and throwing it aside.

The day wore on, and the sun climbed into the sky. The cool air from the night got hotter, and he began to sweat. She could see the muscles on his back tense and tighten, and watched his sweat roll across his body. His skinned knees didn’t slide over the ground anymore, but were picked up carefully and moved forward, set down gently but he still winced from the pain. His looks at her grew longer and longer as he silently filled with lust and pleaded for mercy, asked her without words if it was enough. She saw the sweat running into his eyes and watched him blink it away. When he sat on his knees for some time, just looking at her as she stared impassively back, she finally got up and walked into the house.

Coming back outside a few minutes later she stopped at the door, shuddering as a jolt of heat passed through her body. He was back on all fours, digging again, the sun making the sweat on his body glisten. She walked over to him, a glass of ice water carefully held in one hand. “Afternoon, convict 84.”

He turned his head around, seeing her silhouetted against the sunlight. She waited for him to let the dirt he had gathered slide through his fingers and turn his body around to face her. “Warden?”

She smiled down at him, sincerely, and felt her pulse quickening. “You look like you could use some water, con.” He nodded, and began crawling towards her. She tilted the glass, letting a few drops hit the front of her boot. He was on it like an animal, flinging himself forward to land flat on his stomach, running his tongue over the polished black leather to lap up every drop. His cracked and dry tongue continued around the side, determined not to miss any of the precious water that might have run off.

She moved her other foot back, and let some water drip from the glass to the polished leather. He saw the sparkling liquid hit out of the corner of his eye and immediately slithered forward to lavish that boot, licking furiously, the cold water soaking into his tongue and providing the briefest relief from his thirst.

She moved her free foot back and dripped water sooner this time, and he licked faster, trying not to waste any. She walked him across the lawn this way, until the chain started to tighten around his throat. She licked her lips and started breathing faster, watched the chain pull tighter and the links cut into him, the flesh bulging around the steel links that were forced into his muscle and skin. She could see him below her, laying on his belly. Pulling against the chain so hard he had to ease up to draw in a ragged breath, then shoving himself forward again. Pulling the tent peg over slightly with his desperate crawl, his tongue hanging out of his mouth to desperately reach her boot.

She dripped some more water on the toe, and moved it forward as slowly as she could. The tip of his tongue strained and finally reached the water, and she could see the links of the chain rubbing his skin raw and then off. Fine lines of blood mixed with the sweat and mud, and ran down the back of the quivering muscles in his neck. When he had lapped all the water off her boot, he let himself fall back, giving the chain slack. He lay there face down, his breath coming out in ragged chokes between bouts of coughing. She couldn’t hold herself back any more, and awkwardly undid her pants with one hand.

She pushed her pants down, her thoughts were jumbled as she pulled her panties aside, she knew she’d think of something she should have said later, but for now she just ached. She leaned back, and poured water on her stomach, letting it run down into her pubic hair and between her lips.

She crouched down in front of him, and scooted forward. He surprised her by kissing her softly before licking up and down her sex. His tongue followed the trail of water up to her stomach, and then back down again. Her thighs shuddered, and she sat down hard on the grass. More water followed, running down her stomach to her pussy, his tongue following the liquid trail.

The spasms in her thighs grew faster and stronger, and she knew she was near. She set the glass down, and got an ice cube. Shoving his head back, she slid the rounded piece of frozen water inside herself, pushing it in slowly with one finger. The cold burned insider her, and her aching pussy throbbed in frustration.

She grabbed a handful of his hair and leaned back, feeling the grass tickle her legs and thighs. She twisted his hair as he dove forward, trying to shove his tongue insider her. He worked it inside her vagina, feeling the cold hardness of the ice against the tip of his tongue, and began to worry away at the frozen water. She rocked back and forth, twisting his hair and clamping her thighs around his head while he tried to pull the ice cube out with his tongue, with his lips, with his mouth.

Her breathing became shorter, gasping, and she held his face tight to her as she came. She rode the shuddering orgasm, clenching her teeth and rocking back and forth on the grass. Pushed him away as it subsided, and pulled him in for a long, passionate kiss. Their lips crushed together, and the moans slipped from one mouth to another.

They kissed again and again, biting each others lips, clawing at each other in the grass. When she was ready, she pulled a condom out of her shirt pocket and pushed it into his hand. “Fuck me you filthy fucking convict. Fuck your warden and make her cum.”

He got up on his knees, ignoring the raw flesh, and pulled the condom on with trembling hands while she scooted forward and lay on her back, raising her hips up. “Hurry it up convict, your warden isn’t patient. Get her off before you spend the rest of the day fucking a hole in the wall.”

He pulled the condom on and pinched the end, then threw himself on top of her. She “Oofed” and wrapped her legs around his waist, dragging her nails down his back as he started fucking her. She bit down savagely on his ears and shoulder and muttered encouragement between deep moans. “Fucking prisoner 84, better fuck me good or I’ll have your ass in solitary, fucking convict, fuck me harder or I’ll tie you up and you can be the bitch for every prisoner in the yard…” He ignored the spasms in his arms as the exhausted muscles trembled and held himself up, kept thrusting as he felt her nails down his back begin to draw blood.

She could feel the dried dirt crumbling under fingers as she held on to him, the rough soil on his skin rubbing her raw, rolling across her breasts as she tore her shirt open and tugged at her nipples. The sweat dripped off his face, running down and falling on her, leaving trails of salty water and clean earth as it ran down her cheeks onto her neck. The filth on his skin rubbed off on her as they frantically bucked and tore at each other in the grass, his thighs rubbing against hers, the dirt turning smooth skin pink with friction and making each thrust of pleasure a burning, stinging reminder of his pain and suffering.

They rutted in the grass like wild animals, dirt and soil and sweat pooling between them until she threw back her head, clenched her jaw, and came. The sudden contractions around his cock made him orgasm, and he felt his legs lock until the abused muscles screamed in pain. He fell on top of her, she lay there rocking slowly, riding her orgasm down.

Their breath slowed and the kisses became gentle, until he rolled over and flopped on the grass. They lay there for awhile, watching the clouds chase either across the sky. She pulled her pants back up over still tender flesh, and handed him the glass of water.

“Thanks,” he said, rubbing the cool glass across his forehead between long drinks.

She smiled and wrinkled her nose. “Damn, you need a shower.”

“Yeah, I guess I do. So do you for that matter.” His finger traced a line of dirt down her cheek.

She grabbed his hand and stood up, pulling him to his feet after. “Oh, I’ll be in the shower con.” He jumped as her hand slapped him on the ass. “And you better drop the soap at least once.”

She found the key to the padlock and started to unlock it, until he grabbed her hands and kissed her gently. “I’m still your prisoner, right?”

She kissed him back, softly, and smiled. “No parole for you, 84, it’s a life sentence.”

Copyright 2008 by Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

4 Comments »

  1. maymay said,

    That. Was. So. Adorable. 😀 Also sexy. But also adorable. But also sexy.

  2. littlesubmissions said,

    Thanks, I kind of like the idea that sometimes people have fun during their scenes.

    And I wanted to see how many people find this after googling “spank Paul Newman.”

  3. Angel said,

    Lovely! I’m so glad I found your site; all the stories are well written and inventive, but this one is my favorite. It often seems like there’s lots of romance stories with little femdom and lots of erotica femdom with little romance, but rarely do the two occur together. This story totally brings it on both levels, imo. The scene is hot and so well described, but the hints of the couple’s larger relationship–how it incorporates but isn’t entirely defined by their kink–are just gorgeous. There’s a real sense of romance in their moments of good humor and at the end where they declare their love and commitment in their own language.

    • littlesubmissions said,

      Thank you, I’m fond of this story myself.


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