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Warden Beddington turned the photo of his wife and kids that sat on his desk to face down. He smiled. It was his little ritual, the only sign, besides his burgeoning excitement, that something was about to happen. And something was about to happen. He eased himself into his chair and steepled his fingers, measured his breathing. He’d seen Ms. Davenport’s photos, he’d even jerked off to them twice. She was a beauty. Not a stunning one, not by any means, but a rough diamond. She looked like she’d be the sexiest woman in the trailer park. Beddington smiled, reveling in his own cruelty.

He was a large man, barrel chested, 42 years old with graying black hair. He wore a brown suit with a red tie, his own personal uniform for the past ten years or so.

He glanced out the window to the yard. Women in orange jumpsuits milled about down there. One of them was pregnant with his child. He sighed in satisfaction. This was his place. His domain. His prison.

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” he said.

One of his guards, Wallace, opened the door and stood apart as Laura Davenport walked in, hands in her pockets. The guard left, closing the door behind him.

There she was. 5’6″, dyed blonde hair gonna brown at the roots, pert lips, high cheek bones, and generous, full tits standing proud. She had long legs and the warden could see the shape of her ass just sticking out of her silhouette.

“Good morning, Ms. Davenport. Thank you for joining me,” the warden said, gesturing to the singular cushioned seat in front of his desk.

“Didn’t have much choice, did I?” she said, not looking at him, sinking into the chair.

Beddington smiled and nodded. There was a hint of defiance in her tone. He liked that. He loved that. These ones were at all times more fun. “I asked you here this morning because you are new to us and I wanted to make clear some things about our facility. We run a tight ship around here. I’m sure you’ll find that nothing happens here unless I allow it. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I get it,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest.

Beddington slammed his fist down on the table. He delighted as the sudden shock of sound and violence made her flinch.

She glared at him.

“I don’t think you do,” said the warden. “I really don’t think you do. You will address me as ‘sir’, do you understand?”

“I said I get it!”

“You get it, sir!”

She rolled her eyes. “Are we done?”

Beddington paused, letting the moment of tension drag out. He allowed her the uncertainty of efficient victory. Maybe he was a pushover? Maybe she didn’t have to play by the rules. Eventually, he set his hands on his desk and looked at her. “As I said before, nothing happens in this prison without my permission. You would be…alarmed, however, at the things that happen because I demand them.”

She turned to look at him.

“Maybe you don’t get that weekly phone call to your family? Maybe you miss a meal or two? Maybe you spend a few days in solitary confinement?”

There was a fire in her eyes as he watched her jaw set.

Beddington smiled. “Maybe I throw you to the guards and let them have their fun?”

And there it was, the reaction he’d been waiting for. The uncertainty, the fear as she tried to process the implication of his words. She was in shock, she was off balance.

Beddington stood up, exposing the growing bulge in his pants. “Ms. Davenport, Laura. Laura, I am the best friend you can possibly have in this place.” He walked around his desk, slowly, watching her. “You want to be my friend, Laura. You really do.” He moved to the front of his desk and leaned back against it, letting his erection grow, uncontrolled. It strained against his clothing. “I promise, Laura, that if you’re not my friend, I will make your life here a living hell.” As he spoke, he lowered, and lowered his voice until it was a whisper, a hiss.

He watched her as she reeled from his words.

“If you don’t want to be my friend, then you can leave,” he said, gesturing to the door. “But if…if you do want to be friends, then I’d like you to satisfy me.”

She looked up at him, tears forming in her eyes. “W-What?”

“WHAT, SIR!” he shouted, slamming his fist on the desk.

She flinched. “W-what, sir? I-”

Beddington nodded. “I didn’t take you for a moron,” he said. “But, here, I’ll make it easier for you to understand.” He unzipped his fly and pulled his cock out, letting it hang there in front of her. He was practically drooling as he watched her staring at it in horror. “Satisfy me.” He put his hands on his hips and waited.

…She glared up at him, but her anger was quickly softening, eroded by fear. He watched something within her, in her posture, in her eyes shift. She was gonna do it. She was just working up the courage to reach out.

Beddington waited. He savored these moments before submission. His needs, his ways had evolved throughout the years. He found this way far more satisfying than handcuffs on the wrists and ankles. Oh, he employed that from time to time, but not for introductory sessions, though they had come in handy once or twice.

…Laura averted her eyes and slowly reached out her hand. Her fingers brushed his cock, her warm touch slowly wrapped around his base and began to tug, to pull on his cock weakly, limply.

His cock began to grow in her hand, at her touch.

She pumped him, up and down, grip tightening as he grew harder.

He watched her there, jerking him off, looking across his office at anything besides what she was doing. “We’re going to be here a long time if that’s all you’ve got.”

She looked at him. “Please, don’t make-”

“Please, sir.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Please, sir. Don’t make me do this.”

“This is your choice, Laura. You want this. You want to satisfy me, I promise you that. Why don’t you use that little mouth of yours for something more worthwhile than talking?”

She looked at him, limply shaking her head.

“Suck my cock, now, you stupid slut.”

…Crying, she moved closer, parting her lips. She kissed his tip, then ran her tongue across his head. She continued to pump him.

“Yes, good. That’s good. Good girl,” he said as she took him into her mouth. He reached out and put a hand on her head.

She squealed in protest and-

He grabbed a fistful of her hair before she could move away and dragged her forward, thrusting as he did so, pushing his cock deeper and deeper into her mouth. “Yes. Yes, slut.” He started fucking her face, slowly, savoring her tongue writhing against him and her lips on his shaft. “That’s a good little slut.” He grunted, forcing her to take him deeper.

Her arms, her hands went to his hips, weakly trying to hold him off, to slow him down as he pumped faster. She was making cute little noises, moans of protest and gasps for breath.

He reached out with both hands and grabbed the back of her head, he pushed down as he rocked his hips forward, moaning as her throat stretched to take his head. “Fuck, yes,” he grunted as he pulled all the way out.

She gasped for breath, drool and tears running down her face. “Please, sir, no more.”

He pivoted, moving around her. He pushed, pinning her up against his desk. Grabbing her hair again, he jammed himself back inside her mouth. He fucked, hard and fast, slamming her up against the side of his desk. He gave her throat his fullness and she stretched and gagged to take him, slapping and clawing at his thighs. He felt the knot beginning in his balls. “Fuck. Here it comes, slut. Drink it. Drink it-”

She railed against him, trying to scream, to get away-

He came down her throat, grunting and groaning, gritting his teeth as he pumped his cum into her. He pulled out of her throat enough to cum in her mouth too. He breathed hard as he poured himself across her writhing tongue. He needed her to taste his seed. “Swallow. Swallow! Don’t you spill a fucking drop.”

She winced and wrapped her lips around him tightly, sucking, the cum out of his cock. She squealed in protest as she drank his seed.

Sighing, Beddington released his grip on her and pulled his wet, drained cock out of her mouth. “Good girl. Well done, Laura. I can tell that we’re going to be great friends, you and I.” He dropped a handkerchief onto her. “Clean yourself up,” he said.

She was looking at the floor as she wiped the tears from her eyes, the drool and cum from her lips and chin. She said nothing.

When she was ready, Beddington knocked on the door. “Tell Wallace here what you’d like for dinner. He’ll find whatever you’re hungry for,” he said with a smile.

Wallace appeared, ready to collect the prisoner.

She stood up and shuffled out.

“Welcome to my prison, Ms. Davenport,” Warden Beddington called after her, smiling.

NSFW: yes

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