Naughty Boy Stories

Redemption – Chain Gang

By Zac Loughty

Part 3

This is a story about adults, for adults only

“Against the wall over there,” boss continues, “you’ll find long lengths of 6x6 lumber.  You’ll be sawing the lumber into fence posts.  We’ve marked where they need to be cut with chalk.  We could have bought the fence posts pre-cut, or we could have used a chain saw to cut them.  But why would we do that when we have you fine convicts that need work?  Pair up.  Grab three of the sawhorses and position them so you can saw through the chalk line.  The saws are over there by the lumber.”

Our reward for getting one project done is to be awarded another project.  We all wearily get up and start making our way over to the lumber pile.  Pairing up isn’t too difficult since there’s only 6 of us.  I pair up with the larger guy who I sat next to in the van.  We move three sawhorses into position near the lumber pile.  Together, we lift one of the 6x6’s and position it on the sawhorse.  I’d say it’s about 10’ long.  The chalk line appears to be dead center.  I pick up a saw and start sawing away.  It’s hard work!  When I tire, my partner takes over.  We keep switching off so we get a break.  Neither of us cares how foul the other smells since we’re really working well together.  

Finally, after a lot of sawing, the board gives way.  We each take a side and stack it with the other fence posts made by the other teams.  Then we go back to the pile and get another 10-footer so we can start the process all over.

After a while, another water break is called.

We’re all exhausted.  I feel as if my right arm is going to fall off.  I tried sawing with my left, but it just doesn’t work as well.  We all get our cups of water and collapse on the floor of the barn.  I’m really looking forward to whatever kind of bed they give me tonight.  All this work is also making me hungry, too.

“Okay, convicts,” boss says, “break’s over.  Get your asses back to work!”

We all want to cry.  We’re finding out all about “hard manual labor.”  All three teams start to slow down.  The saws aren’t moving back and forth as quickly as when we first started.  We slowly carry our completed fence posts over to their pile.  We are slow to pick up another 10-footer.  Thankfully, boss doesn’t seem to notice.  He sees we’re still sweating and working, so he’s happy.

I don’t know how many fence posts we completed.  By the time boss tells us that our labors are finished for the day, we’re all stumbling around dead on our feet.  We put the sawhorses and saws back where we found them.

Boss tells us to line up and we are marched out of the barn.  Opposite the barn doors is a long, one-story blockhouse.  All of the windows in the blockhouse are narrow, vertical, and have one iron bar running their length.

We’re marched over to the blockhouse.  We’re facing a large, black, metal door.  Boss swipes a keycard and he swings the door out and tells us to enter.

We can’t go very far.  Once inside, we come upon a set of iron bars.  I notice that there’s a barred door set into them.  Boss joins us, letting the metal door shut and lock behind us.  Boss steps up and positions a keycard over the sensor next to the barred door.  I hear a ‘ca-thunk’ and boss grabs a bar on the door and slides it open to the right.

“In you go, convicts,” boss directs.

We all file through the door.  Boss slides the barred door closed behind us and it closes and locks with a loud, satisfying ‘ca-chunk’.

We’re in a room with three rectangular metal tables.  The tables have eight metal stools forming a perimeter around the table.  The stools are all attached to the table.  The temperature in the room isn’t bad.  They may be using an evaporative cooler.

I can see a kitchen off to the right.  The other boss is working back there.  On the other side of the tables, there’s a half-partition, no more than 3’ high, with a path through the center.  I can see three shower heads on one side and three toilets on the other.  There’s a pile of towels on top of the partition next to the showers.  Behind the showers, I see another wall of iron bars.

“Okay, convicts,” boss says, “you’ve worked hard today and smell like it too.  You lot smell so bad, the smell of horse shit would be an improvement.”

We all smile sheepishly and nod, agreeing with boss.  I don’t think I’ve ever reeked this bad.  Even Sir wouldn’t want to come near me and I wouldn’t blame him.

“It’s time to hit the showers, convicts,” boss commands, “so I don’t lose the contents of my stomach.  Go grab a stool and remove your boots and socks.”

We all shuffle over to sit down on a stool.  I unlace my right boot and pull it off.  Effing hell, it smells like something died in my boot!  I quickly pull off my sock.  My ankle bracelet, no longer supported by my boot, slides down and hits the top of my foot.  As other convicts pull off their boots, the stink in the room just gets worse.  I quickly remove my left boot and sock too, anxious to get the stinky things off my foot.

“You’ll want to leave your boots over there by the bars to air out,” boss suggests.  “Just drape your socks over them.”

Barefoot, we all pick up our boots and set them down against the bars as far away from us as they can get.  We also drop off our tin cups and work gloves.

“Go ahead and take off your cap and shirts, too, convicts,” boss directs.  “You can leave them by your boots.  We’ll take them to launder later.”

The rim of my convict cap is soaked with sweat.  I toss it near my boots.  My convict shirt is plastered to my body with sweat.  I feel as if I need to peel it off me.  There’s still a layer of sweat on my chest and back as I remove my shirt.  I feel sweat running down my sides from my underarms.

Now we’re all naked from the waist up with bare feet.  I can’t help but take a quick glance at my fellow convicts since I’m an incorrigibly horny boy.

“Now we have a problem, convicts,” boss says.  “You need to remove your pants so you can take a shower.  The problem is you have these decorative ankle bracelets riveted on your feet with a connecting chain.  I can assure you that we will NOT be removing those beautiful bracelets.  So, I’m going to tell you, step by step, how to remove your pants without disturbing your lovely ankle bracelets.”

“First thing,” boss instructs, “go ahead and remove your rope belt and let your catch chain drop to the floor.  Then it’s probably best if you sit your asses down on the floor.”

We all remove our rope belt and I hear the clang of the catch chains hitting the floor.  We all sit down.  We’re all anxious to learn how in the heck we can get our pants off around our leg irons.  I’m hanging on boss’ every word.

“Now,” boss continues, “pull your pants down around your ankles.

We all push our pants down over our hips and let them fall around our ankles.  Now we’re in our underwear.

“Now,” boss coaches, “turn your waistband inside out and pull it over your entire left foot.  Don’t worry about your chains, boys, just pull the waist inside-out over your left foot.  Now keep going and pull it over your right foot, too.  I know, you think you’re going to be stuck for life, but just bear with me.”

We do what boss says, but we feel pretty stupid.  Is boss playing a trick on us to make us look like idiots?  Both my feet are stuck in the waistband of my pants and my pants are inside-out!  I feel like a clown!

“Now,” boss instructs, “go ahead and pull your left foot out of your pants leg.  Your left pants leg is inside-out.  Everyone should have a left foot that’s free of the pants. Your chain is running through the middle of your inside-out left pants leg.”

Okay, now my left foot is free, but my inside-out left pants leg has my leg iron chain running down the middle of it.  Boss is patient and waits until everyone has a free left foot.  I still don’t see how in the heck this is going to work.

“Now start pulling your inside-out left pants leg up your right leg,” boss instructs.  Your right foot should come out the bottom.”

I keep pulling and pulling on the inside-out left pants leg.  I keep pulling, and my right foot appears out the bottom! 

“So now you’re wearing your right pants leg with your left pants leg inside-out on top of it,” boss says.  “As you can see, no harm has come to your lovely leg irons.”

Boss is right.  My legs irons are still securely fastened around my ankles.  But now I’m wearing both pants legs on my right leg!  How in the heck am I going to get these filthy pants off now?

“Now,” boss continues, “stuff both your right-side out right pants leg with your inside-out left pants leg down through the shackle on your right ankle.”

I start to stuff the two pants legs, together, down through the narrow gap between my leg and ankle bracelet.  It’s a tight fit!

“That’s right,” boss encourages, “stuff them between your leg and shackle and pull just until your right foot can clear its leg hole.  That’s right, boys, keep pulling the pants legs down through your shackle.”

I keep pulling, feeling really stupid.  I think we’re going to need to call the fire department to get me out of these effing pants.

“All of a sudden, boys,” boss continues, “your right foot will pop out of its leg hole.”

I keep pulling until, sure enough, my right foot emerges!  Wow!  My fellow convicts are surprised too.

“Then just pull the pants legs up through the shackle between your leg and shackle,” boss concludes confidently.

As I pull up on the pants, the combined pants legs pull up through my leg cuff.  I keep pulling until I’m holding my pants in my hands!  I feel as if I should win a prize!  Well, I guess the prize is that I’m not wearing those filthy pants anymore.

“You can just drop your pants with your shirt and cap, convicts,” boss instructs.

I’m happy to drop my pants on the floor with my shirt and cap.

“Go ahead and remove your boxers the same way you removed your pants, convicts,” boss directs.  “They’re much easier than your pants.”

I sit my butt on the floor and pull my sweat-soaked boxers down to my ankles.  I take the waistband on my boxers and pull it down over my shackled left foot.  As I continue to pull it over my right foot, my left foot pops free of the boxers.  It’s the same thing as my pants; the inside-out left leg of my boxers is covering the right leg of my boxers.  The boxers are free of my leg iron chain.  Then I stuff the combined legs of the boxers through my right leg cuff until my right foot emerges.  Then I just pull my boxers up through my right shackle, and, voila, I’m naked holding my boxers!

I drop the boxers with the rest of my convict suit.  My fellow convicts are now all naked.  Three of the guys are covering their junk.  I see that another guy is wearing a chastity cage.  He’s not bothering to cover it.  Another guy is swinging free.  I’m proud of my nub cage and refuse to cover it up.

“Okay, convicts,” boss says, “hit the showers.”

We quickly make our way to the showers holding our catch chain up in front of us so we won’t trip over our leg iron chain.  We’re eager to get this stench out of our nostrils.  Since there are only three showerheads, it’s obvious we need to pair up.  My sawing buddy sticks with me.

Once we get to the showers, we just let the catch chain drop to the floor.  We turn on the showers.  There’s no temperature control, just on and off.  I get hit with a blast of cold water.  It’s not ice-cold, but it’s cold.  I quickly get wet.  There’s a soap dispenser under the showerhead.  This must be some of that body soap and shampoo and conditioner stuff.  Whatever, I’m in prison!  I get my hair lathered up and then start rubbing the grime off my body.  My shower mate keeps trying to keep his junk covered.  It’s pretty difficult to do that and wash your body and hair at the same time.  He turns so I can’t see his junk.  Whatever, dude!  I keep scrubbing and then dip back into the shower.  While I’m rinsing my hair, I accidentally get a glimpse of his crotch.  He’s locked up like me!  His penis is locked in one of those plastic cages with bars across the front!  He gives me this totally mortified look.  I take pity on him.

“It’s okay, dude,” I say reassuringly.  “I’ve been locked in this metal cage for years.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.”  I put my right hand under my cage and pull up so he can see how thoroughly locked up I am, boy nuts and all.

“I really want my dick back, dude,” he says morosely.  “I want to be swinging free again.”

“Who’s got you locked up?” I ask.

“My girlfriend,” he says sheepishly.  “I got drunk at a party and was flirting with some of her girlfriends.  They told her and she insisted I lock up or she’d leave me.  I really do love her, man.”

“That sucks, man,” I say sympathetically.  “If she loves you, she won’t keep you locked up forever.”

“That’s why I’m here, dude,” he says.  “She said if I finish this chain-gang program, she’ll consider releasing me.”

“That’s great, dude,” I say enthusiastically, “so you might be swinging in the breeze after this weekend.”

“God, I hope so, dude,” he says, shaking his head.  “I hate this fucking cage.  I can’t even piss at a urinal with this thing on, piss goes all over the place!  My girlfriend is amused that I have to sit to pee now.”

“My name’s Zac, by the way,” I say, extending my hand.  I look directly into his eyes.  I don’t want to make him any more embarrassed than he already is.

“The name’s Joe, Zac,” he says and gives me a firm handshake.

We finish our shower.  He’s no longer trying to hide his cage.  The effort was futile anyway.  We grab towels and dry off.  Our catch chains are dragging behind us.

“Okay, convicts,” boss says, “we have a nice, fresh convict suit all ready for you men.  The sharp contrast between the white and black stripes makes a commanding fashion statement,” he says, chuckling at his own joke.  

We just roll our eyes.  That was a bit much even for boss.  I can’t help but like the guy, though.

Six piles of convict suits are laid out on the tables.  We each choose a pile.  They’re all the same, anyway.

“Now you need to put your boxers on over your chains, convicts,” he says.  “It’s done the same way as taking them off, only backward.”

We all just give him a blank stare.  I’m not sure I could duplicate getting my boxers off over my chains.

“Okay, convicts,” he says, giving us an exasperated look, “pick up your boxers and turn them inside out.”

I find the gray boxers (same color!) hold them up and turn them inside out.

“Now, with the ass facing you,” he instructs, “you take the left leg and tuck it into the right leg.”

I do as he says.  That looks pretty weird.

“Now,” boss continues, “take the combined boxer legs and tuck them down between your right leg and ankle bracelet.”

Thankfully, the boxers have a lot less material than the pants so it’s way easier to stuff them in there.

“Pull the boxer legs down through your bracelet,” boss instructs, “just until you see the leg hole opening in the boxers.”

I keep pulling until I see the leg hole.

“Now,” boss says, “stick your right foot through the leg hole and pull your boxers up through your bracelet.”

I stick my right leg through the hole and then pull my boxers up on my leg.  The boxers have cleared my leg irons.

“Now,” boss continues, “keeping your boxer’s right leg on your right leg, pull your boxer’s left leg over your right foot and keep going until you also pull it over your left foot.  You may need to put your feet pretty close together, convicts.”

This is the hard part.  It’s hard for me to keep my right foot in the right leg of the boxers while simultaneously pulling the left leg over my right foot.  I keep trying until I eventually get it.  With my feet together, I also pull the left leg of the boxer, which is inside-out, over my left leg as well.

“Lastly,” boss continues, “grab the waistband of your inside-out boxers and pull it over both feet.  At first, your right foot will slip out of the boxers, followed by your left foot.  Then, for God’s sake, pull up your boxers so I don’t have to look at your ugly junk anymore.”

We all laugh.  I see the boxer’s waistband.  I pull it over both of my feet.  I pull them up.  I’m wearing boxers and I’m still wearing my leg irons!  This is like magic!

“Go ahead and finish dressing convicts,” boss directs.  “Your clean socks are next to your boots.  You can put your socks and boots on tomorrow.  Best to let those puppies dry overnight.”

We all nod our heads in agreement.

“You’ll find a pair of orange flip-flops at the bottom of your clean convict suits,” boss explains.  “You can wear them until morning.”

We all try to help each other out trying to get our pants on.  Start with pants inside out.  Put left leg into right leg.  Push combined pants legs down through shackle on right foot until you see the leg hole.  Put your right foot through the leg hole and pull everything up through your right shackle.  Then pull the left pants leg down over your right foot and also over your left foot.  Take the waistband and pull it over both feet.  Yes!  I did it!  I’m wearing pants and my shackles are below them still secured to my ankles!  I feel as if I’ve learned a new skill.  Should I list it on my resume?  LOL!

Once we’re all wearing pants, we put on our convict shirts and caps.  We feel like new men in our clean clothes.  Well, new except that our muscles ache.

“Okay, convicts,” boss says once we’re all dressed, “time to line up for chow.”

As we pass by the kitchen, another boss hands us a metal tray with food on it.

“Enjoy the lasagna, boys,” he says, “it’s my mother’s recipe.”

I take the tray and sit down at the first table.  Everyone sits at the first table together.  It’s uncomfortable to sit on our catch chains, so we all undo our rope belts and move our catch chain to the front.  Our leg irons are rattling against the metal stools, but no one cares; we’re hungry!  The food looks and smells really good.  This isn’t authentic prison food, but I don’t care.  There’s a nice portion of lasagna.  In another section of the tray, there’s a salad with oil and vinegar dressing!  There’s a fricking dinner roll with butter!  There’s a slice of cake for dessert!  Everyone talks about how happy they are with the food.  We sincerely thank the boss who prepared it.  The kitchen boss just beams; he’s happy we like it.

It's great to have this chance to sit down and talk with my fellow convicts.  At the Redemption warehouse, you’re not allowed to talk to other “miscreants”.  

Let me introduce you to my compatriots.  First up is Steve.  He’s a proud gay slave.  His slave dick is locked in chastity like mine.  Yes, he’s pierced like me so he can’t pull his dick out the back of the cage.  His is real chastity, just like mine.  His master wanted him to have Redemption’s chain gang experience.  His master wants him to grow as a slave.  His master believes that exposing Steve to many slave scenarios will increase Steve’s confidence in himself.  In my opinion, Steve is in a very healthy relationship with his master.  Steve appears to be in his 30’s.  I believe his height is about 5’ 8”.  His build is thin, like mine.  His master is “encouraging” him to tone up his muscles.  Sometimes, this encouragement involves pain, but Steve seems to be okay with it.  Steve doesn’t have any facial hair.  When he was showering, I noticed that he doesn’t have any pubic hair; his dick and balls are shaved clean.  I didn’t see his slave hole but I would be surprised if it weren’t shaved.

Next up is Gregory.  He’s a proud gay sub.  His Dom doesn’t want him to wear a chastity cage.  He is required to keep himself chaste without the aid of a chastity cage.  I have a lot of respect for Greg.  I really appreciate the constant weight of my nub cage reminding me that my nub belongs to my Sir and that I can’t get hard or cum like a man.  Greg’s Dom wanted him to experience Redemption’s chain gang.  Since Greg’s Dom paid so much for this experience, he wants Greg to put everything he has into performing the hard, manual labor that’s required.  He wants Greg to fully immerse himself in sub-space so he can bring what he learns back into the relationship with his Dom.  I believe Greg is about 6’ 0” in height.  Greg is very muscular; he works out every day at the direction of his Dom.  Greg appears to be in his 40’s.  Greg has a mustache and a nicely trimmed beard.  In the shower, I noticed that Greg’s pubic hair is very neatly trimmed.  He doesn’t appear to shave his crotch.

The other three guys are straight.  Mark loves history and wanted to have a chain gang experience.  His wife was concerned when he signed up for the chain gang, but she’s supportive of his research.  Although this experience is a far cry from the brutal reality of chain gangs, Mark feels he can at least learn what it’s like to lose his freedom and be forced to perform hard manual labor.  He’ll get to spend time in an actual locked cell peering out from behind bars.  He’s also genuinely interested in the BDSM culture.  He wants to learn from active participants.  Mark appears to be in his 50’s.  I guess he’s about 5’ 10” in height.  He has some muscle and he also has a small paunch.  He has a trimmed mustache.  His crotch is all-natural; his bush is an absolute forest and you can barely see his junk through all the hair.  He’s pretty sexy if you ask me.

Bill is a sub to his wife.  Bill suggested to her that Redemption’s chain gang experience might help him delve deeper into the psyche of his submissive side.  She reluctantly agreed for Bill’s sake.  She only went along with the idea once she learned that Redemption only admits males and that sex between participants is completely prohibited.  She doesn’t feel comfortable taking a dominant role.  She’s hoping that Bill can explore his submissive side through programs like Redemption offers and leave her out of it.  I feel sorry for Bill.  This is a tough situation.  Bill is in his 20’s.  He’s about 6’ 1” in height.  He has a thin, nicely toned body.  He trims his pubes but leaves the rest of his crotch alone.  He doesn’t have any facial hair.

You’ve already met Joe.  He’s in his 20’s.  He’s about 6’ 0” tall.  He’s one hairy dude.  He has a thick mat of long, dense pubic hair.  His junk is covered with thick, curly hairs, but the hair isn’t enough to hide the bars of his plastic chastity cage imprisoning his dick.  He has some muscles and he’s also a bit overweight.  He has a nice, hairy belly.

After we finish eating our fantastic dinner, we take the trays back to the kitchen counter and hand them to the kitchen boss.  Steve and I offer to help the boss clean up the kitchen.  He happily accepts our offer.  We go back and help him clean up.  We discuss cooking with the boss while we’re cleaning pots and pans.  The banging of the pots and pans blends nicely with the clanking of our leg irons.

There isn’t a TV in the room, thank God!  I want to get to know my fellow convicts.  It’s valuable to gain other perspectives.  If there was a TV in the room, we’d all be huddled around it.  Sir and I hardly ever watch TV.  

Our gang of six plays cards while we chat.  We talk about everything, including how sore and tired we are after working today.  Tomorrow will be a full day, so we’ll need to rest up.

After a while, boss walks through the shower / toilet area to the cellblock doors.  He unlocks and slides the door open.  He enters the cellblock and unlocks and opens the doors to six cells.

“Okay, convicts,” boss says, “time to say goodnight to your buddies and hit the rack.  You have a long twelve hours of hard labor to look forward to tomorrow.”

We all groan, stand up and pass through the shower area on our way to the opening in the wall of bars that is the cellblock.  I’m amazed to see a row of cells on each side of a narrow aisle.

“You get to pick your own cells, convicts,” boss says cheerfully.  “We offer lots of choices around here.  Any cell with an open door can be yours.  It doesn’t matter which one you pick because they’re all the same.”

The cells are almost identical to the ones at the Redemption warehouse.  I step into the second cell on my right.  I notice that Joe takes the cell opposite mine.  There’s a window in my cell!  It’s only one foot wide, but it’s probably about 3 feet long.  There’s a vertical solid metal bar in the center of it.

“Guys,” I say excitedly, “we have windows!”

“That’s right, convicts,” boss agrees, “we want you to be able to see what’s going on in the free world.”

“Okay, convicts,” boss continues, “that’s a wrap.  See you in the morning.”

Boss than makes his way down the row of cells, pushing the cell doors closed as he goes.  There’s that ‘ca-chunk’ sound I love so much, repeated six times, each time a cell door locks completely.

Boss then passes through the door of the cellblock and closes that as well.  ‘Ca-thunk!’  I guess we’re locked in for the night.

I go up to my cell door and grab the bars.  Joe’s doing the same thing opposite me.  He looks sort of sad.

“Cheer up, dude,” I say, “we’ve got real bars on our cell.  Some poor guys only have a solid door with a tiny window in it.  We’ve got a panoramic view of our entire cell block.  These old-fashioned cells are great!  Heck, dude, we even have a window!”

Joe smiles and shakes his head.  He thinks I’m nuttier than a fruitcake.

“We have this nice, spacious sleeping area,” I continue, “and when you need to take a piss in the middle of the night, there’s no rolling out of bed and wandering down the hall to the bathroom for you.  Heck no, dude, your toilet is right next to your bed!  Can’t get any more convenient than that!  No worries about raising or forgetting to put down the toilet seat either, dude, because there isn’t one!  These cells are awesome!”

All the guys are laughing at me now. 

I turn around and look at my home for the night.  Not only is there a blanket on my slab, but there’s also a plastic pillow!  I didn’t have a pillow in my cell at Redemption’s warehouse.  This place gets rated 5 stars by me!  The mat on my concrete slab looks thicker too.  I think it’s about 2” thick instead of the 1” back at the warehouse.  I straddle the toilet to look out the window.  My leg irons clank against the stainless-steel toilet.  It’s dark out, so I can’t see much.

While I’m there, I go ahead, pull down my pants, sit down, and take a piss.

I sit down on my mat and decide to take a closer look at my shackles.  I’ve always wanted to wear irons that are riveted around my ankles.  I guess I get to check this one off my bucket list!  LOL!  

I carefully lift my left leg and set my left foot down on my right thigh.  Of course, all this is accompanied by the incessant tinkling of chains.  I slowly rotate my left ankle cuff until the flange with the rivet and connecting chain comes into view.  I examine the underside of the flange.  There’s the head of the rivet that I saw boss slip in.  Originally, the pin on the rivet was perpendicular to the head.  It fit nicely through the holes of the flanges on both the upper and lower portions of the cuff.  I can still see the fine line where both portions meet.  If the rivet pin hadn’t been ‘adjusted’ by boss, the rivet would just fall out.  But boss took that heavy hammer and went to town on the pin.  The constant blows bent it so that now, it’s become part of the flange.  I run my finger over the mutilated pin.  I see how it’s been deformed just as it exits the hole in the top portion of the flange.  That pin is in there to stay; I guess it needs to be drilled out.

“I don’t think we can remove our irons, dude,” Joe says.  He’s standing at his cell door grasping the bars.  He’s removed his shirt.

“No, dude,” I agree, “these puppies are on until boss takes them off.”  I set my foot back on the floor and rise to join him at the bars to be sociable.  We look each other over and look up and down the cellblock.  Steve joins us at the bars.  His cell is just to my right of Joe’s.

“Hey, Zac,” Steve says.

“Hey, Steve,” I respond.

“Watcha doin’, dude?” Steve asks.

“Nothin’ much, dude,” I reply, “just hanging out.”

Suddenly, the single light bulb in my cell goes out.  I notice Joe’s light has gone out too.  There are still fluorescent lights out on the corridor.  I remove my shirt and cap.  I’d like to just sleep in my boxers, but it’s not worth all the time and trouble to remove them over my shackles.  I look down at my catch chain hanging down from my belt.  It won’t be fun rolling onto that in the middle of the night.  I remove my belt and hold my catch chain.  I sit down on my slab and swing my legs up onto it accompanied by the sound of lots of chains rattling.  I drop the catch chain below my legs.  That should keep it out of the way.  I pull the blanket over my bare feet.  Then I lie down and position the plastic pillow under my head.  The plastic mat sticks to the bare skin on my back.  I like the way it feels.  Joe has laid down on his slab as well.  He’s still moving around trying to get comfortable.  I can feel the weight of my shackles on my ankles.  They’re not heavy, they’re just... there.

I can hear one of the guys taking a dump.  Yeah, not much privacy in prison.  Unfortunately, after a while, I can smell it.

I wonder if Mark and Bill are having a wank.  I move my right hand down to grasp my nub cage.  Yeah, it sure would feel good to have a wank about now.  I look at the gray, concrete walls, and ceiling of my cell.  I look at the row of iron bars across the front of it.  The bars cast a shadow over the inside of my cell and my body.  I feel content and happy despite my aching muscles.  Thank you, Sir.

- - - - -

Then, I have a dream!  Sir opens my cell door and enters my cell.  He’s completely naked.  “I really need that hole of yours, boy,” He says lustfully.

“Sure, Sir,” I respond.  I pull my convict pants down below my knees and flip my legs up over my head, my leg iron chain rattling away.  “My hole’s all yours, Sir,” I say invitingly.

He dives his tongue between my ass lips.  He loosens my hole up for me.  It feels amazing.

Sir puts some lube on his index finger and massages my hole.  He sticks his finger farther and farther up my boy chute.

He puts in a second finger.  He’s really massaging and opening my boy hole.

Then he kneels on the slab, gets his beautiful cock into position, and starts teasing my hole with his cock.  He adds some more lube to my hole.

He puts just the tip of his dick inside me.  He backs out to my entrance and pushes in just until he’s at my ring.  He keeps up this motion but doesn’t push through my ring.  He’s driving me crazy.  

“Please fuck me, Sir,” I beg.  “Please push through my ring and drive your cock into me as far as it will go, Sir.”

“Are you ready for it, boy?” he asks.

“I’m ready, Sir,” I answer, “I need your cock to take my hole, Sir.  Please take my hole.”

“Okay, boy,” he responds, “if you insist.”

He starts pushing against my ring with his head.  I focus all my thoughts on relaxing my boy hole.  He pushes through and drives into me fully.  His beautiful body is lying on top of me.  His belly smothers my caged nub.

“Oh God, Sir,” I gasp, “thank you, Sir.”

He’s fucking me full on.  He’s thrusting in and out faster and faster.  My chains are rattling and clanging all over the place, but we don’t care.  We were meant to be joined together this way.

He keeps thrusting until, suddenly, he lets out a moan.  I feel his dick expand inside me.  I know his cum is being deposited in my boy hole where it belongs.  He puts his lips over mine and shoves his tongue in my mouth.  My tongue rises to meet his.  We suck on each other’s tongues, not letting the seal of our mouths break.  His sweaty body collapses on me.  It’s such an amazing feeling.

- - - - -

I awake to the most God-awful racket I’ve ever heard.