WARDEN I

The new inmate arrived just before lights out, escorted by two guards who looked happy to get rid of him. I watched him walk slowly, dragged by the chain that jingled lazily on his wrist and ankles. I waited at the end of the corridor, clipboard in hand, uniformed from head to bottom.

“Ryan Hart,” I read aloud. “Break-in, theft, Assault. Two years. You understand the rules?”

Ryan lifted his head, a slow grin. “Guess I'll learn quickly if you're teaching, warden.”

“Warden Torres.” I corrected it, as I wrote on the clipboard. “Strip for search.” I commanded, ignoring his attitude.

He didn't hesitate, he stepped closer. “You sure you want a show, sir?”

I hummed sarcastically and irritated, I walked closer to him closing the distance till he could feel my breath. “You think you're high, Hart? Strip!”

He lifted his hands up in mock surrender and I signalled a guard to uncuff him. He stood naked, body lean and inked.

I didn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction

Before he was escorted into his by a guard, I leaned forward. “Be careful what you offer in this place.”

“Cell nine.” I told the guards, I left like I was never there.

*******

Ryan's POV

I wasn't one to stay calm, especially not in a place like this. Wherever I go, trouble follows. I was already planning my next move right in the dining hall - first day in the county and still ready to make a mark.

I started a food fight just to see who bites and the guards trooped in. I wasn't expecting Torres to join in the break off because he didn't look like he was a guard.

He grabs me by the collar, slams me over a table, grinding my face in the cold metal.

“First day here and you're already making a fuss.”

“Didn't mean to, officer.”

He scoffed, drew out his baton and hit me right across the shoulder. I was bent over the table with his hand pressing on my head.

“I warned you once.”

“I don't take threats to heart. I'm already locked away.”

“You think bars are punishment, Ryan? Some men beg for walls when they finally meet me.” He whispered into my ears

“I'll take my chances” I laughed.

He shoved me to the ground and left.

The prisoners seemed to turn their faces whenever he passed. And then the hall was clear, another inmate whispered to me, "We call him Striker for a reason, you don't want to mess with him.”

“Striker?” I questioned.

“Yes.” Another inmate answered. “ I doubt you'll want him having a close eye on you. Nothing gets by without him.”

Another mutters. “And I doubt it's already too late for that advice.”

“Why?” I questioned immediately.

“He only passes his warning once and you just got a second warning.” He coldly addressed me.

Their words sent chills down my spine, for the first time in a long time silence became my friend. The jokes didn't feel safe in my mouth any longer.

The next evening, I found myself pacing the cell restlessly. There was silence, footsteps, the kind that stopped fights mid swing. When the patrol light swept past my cell, I called out. “Any problem?”

But instead of a guard I got Torres.

The key turned and the door slid open. The warden’s presence filled the narrow space like another wall. “Out!”

I walked out of the cell slowly, escorted by a guard into a whole different room. He cuffed my hand to the railings, my feet barely touching the floor then left.

Torres shuts the door behind him.

“I don't give warnings twice.”

There was a bit of silence.

“Strip.”

With one hand uncuffed I began to unzip the onesie, letting it drop to my ankle. He moved in circles. His eyes took over every inch.

Then he sits on the single chair, legs spread and unzips fly. His cock springs out, bigger than anything I have seen, bigger than I expected.

“You wanted my attention and you got it.” Voice low and dangerous. “Kneel.”

I hesitated. “What?”

“Kneel or I make you.” He stands, grips my hair, and forces me down.

My knees hit the concrete floor.

I take him in my mouth - slow, testing and hot. He groans, fingers tightening in my hair and starts thrusting.

No mercy. No care

He fucks my throat deep and brutal, hips snapping. Using me exactly how he warned he would. I choke, eyes watering, mouth straining painfully.

I should hate it.

I don't.

I crave more.

He comes with a growl, flooding my mouth, shoving it down my throat. Holds me there until I swallow every drop.

Then pulls out, smears his tip on my lips.

“Clean it.”

I lick him obediently.

He tucks himself, but doesn't leave. He uncuffs one wrist, nods at his crotch again.

“Stroke me, till I'm hard again.”

My own cock bulged, harder, untouched. I obey him, my hands pumping him back.

He watches me, eyes dark. “You're enjoying this.”

I don't answer.

He recuffs both hands but this time I'm facing it. Kicks my legs wider. Cool air slapped my exposed ass.

His cockhead presses against my ass hole.

“Relax,” he utters, almost gentle. “Or it'll hurt more.”

I've wondered about this, fantasized about this. Never once did I think my first time will be chained in a prison room, bent for a warden who hates me.

I don't want it to be anyone else.

The head breaches. Burns. Stretches

“Ahh..”

He paused, let's me adjust then pushes deeper. Slow at first then relentless.

“Good boy.”

Then he bottoms out, every nerve of mine on fire. He pulls back and slams in.

I cry out.

Again skin slaps skin. He goes in harder, hands grip my hips. Each thrust drives the air from my lungs.

He slaps my ass. “What a tight ass

“Who are you?”

I'm just an inmate, your inmate, your slave.”

“Louder!”

“I'm your slave, warden.”

“You're too big…ahh…ahh”

“You'll take it, all of it.”

“Yes, I will.”

He reached around, wraps a fist around my leaking crotch and strokes it rough and fast.

“You love it, don't you?”

“I do…I love…I love being yours to use.” I cried. “Please… Warden, I want it. I need it. Use me as you may.”

He pounds deeper, hitting the very spot that makes me see stars. I come untouched at first then again when he jerks me through it, spilling over his hands.

He follows, flooding my ass with his cum. Pulse after pulse. We stay locked,his chest resting against my back as he breathed into my ear.

“Now you know why I'm called a striker.” he whispered into my ears.

I whimper.

“I never miss.”

He pulls out slowly, leaves me dripping and marked. He zips us and uncuffs me as he watches me fall on my knees, blissed out.

He lifts my head with two fingers on my chin, my eyes meeting his.

Welcome to my world, Ryan.”

The door shuts behind him, I lay on the cold floor helplessly with a smile playing on my face.

“I think I'm gonna like it here.”