Gay Bondage Fiction | Bad Attitude – Page 1

A new prison inmate is very harshly initiated by two sadistic and horny guards in this story by Anthony Santos with art by Cavelo.

Bad Attitude - Page 1
by Anthony Santos
Art by Cavelo
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You like that?" Sterne asked.

"Yeah, I like that," I answered.

He could see I liked it, too. Tank top and jeans, black hair cut short over the skull but woven into a long pigtail that reached to the middle of the back. Moustache. A lot of tight muscle.

He strutted past me. He flexed his shoulder a little so one of his tattoos moved. A black snake, curved around a knife. The snake coiled when he did it. I could see the striations form in the shoulder: no fat.

Yeah, I liked it.

He moved across the yard and leaned against the rough concrete wall where "Western State Correction Facility" was painted. He gave me a glance back, and his lip curled up. Arrogant bastard.

This one was new. So he didn't know my rule. You don't have that bad attitude unless you prove to me you have a right to it. Otherwise, you're asking for trouble.

"Who's this one, Sterne?"

"Name's Pierce. Eddie Pierce. Biker."

"What's he in for?"

"Aggravated assault."

"He thinks he's something."

"Maybe he is, back in the sticks. He's here because he's stupid. First adult offense. But he broke one of the cop's legs when they cuffed him."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Knocked the cop off his front porch. An accident, like."

An accident. Doesn't pay to have them with cops.

I'd seen the type before. Young, inexperienced, unsure of what to do, and so showing us he was aggressive, macho, ready to fight. Otherwise, he thought, he'd end up being porked by a 300-pound rapist in the shower.

It's easier being arrogant outside.

But now Eddie was inside, and though he didn't know it yet, he was mine.

I told Sterne, "We'll work on him downstairs."

"Right now?"

"No. Let him strut around some more. He'll fuck up soon enough."

Which he did. The next day, he got into a fight with Tyrone Collins, the black kid I had initiated (so to speak) last year. Over who was going to bench press next. From the office window; I saw Sterne and another guard grab Eddie and duck-walk him into the door marked "Service."

As the door closed, they began to beat him.

I left the office to meet them.

They'd take him to our special place in the old building, an inner basement room, windowless behind thick walls. No sound escaped. All those sounds men make when they're in pain stay inside. Years of them.

When I got there, they'd opened the narrow door and were forcing him inside.

"Fuckers!" he shouted. He braced himself with his leg against the door jamb. Some kidney punches made him think a little about that and then Sterne grabbed him by the pigtail and dragged him in.

For a moment he knelt before us. Then Sterne kicked him over.

Eddie sprawled onto the concrete floor near the drain. (It went down deep into the ground-we'd hose the place down sometimes and the water would disappear with all the blood and piss.)

Eddie panted.

"Fuckers," he said to himself. "Bastards."

I entered. I motioned to the second guard. He left-reluctantly. He knew what was coming. He glanced back for a final look.

I closed the door slowly.

I let Eddie hear it shut.

I told him, "This is your world today, Eddie. You'll see that what they told you in school - you did get past first grade, didn't you - was wrong. Everything in your life circles around what happens around here. The center is right here, Eddie, not someplace else."

"Eat shit, asshole," he shot back. Sterne kicked him in the belly.

Outside was bright, hot, dusty, the sun and heat waving off the walls. Here it was hot with close, heavy wet. The earth-colored brick showed dark stains where the single unshaded light hit hot against it.

The only sound was Eddie's panting.

He tried to get up. From behind, Sterne punched him in the kidney, nice and hard, and he went down again.

He could have fought back, but he knew he wouldn't win. Not here.

"Eddie," I said friendly-like. "Why are you such a fuck-off?"

"Fuck you, man," he said. His voice was hoarse and be had not yet caught his breath.

"You don't like our hotel?"

"I don't like you, you son of a bitch. Any of you."

"Why'd you want to fight with Tyrone? Didn't they tell you, never challenge anybody here who's wearing a gold ring in his left ear?"

"Why don't you go fuck yourself. Fuck your mother."

"You won't understand this, Eddie, but let me tell you a secret. In here, you can't be the arrogant biker bastard you think you are, until you earn it. Think you can do that?"

Instinct took over. He lunged at me - really stupid. He hadn't learned anything when that cop fell off his porch.

"Lesson time," I said.

We each took turns at hitting him in the belly and kidneys. Not the face. This was to get us all warmed up. The chosen man has to know that he will suffer.

It didn't take long. (It doesn't. You don't want to hurt them too much at first. That would numb them, and you'd have to wait.)

When he went down and didn't try to push himself up right away, I told Sterne, "Get it."

Sterne went to the side. Every thing was arranged there, all the tools we'd need, on hooks and on an old table.

Sterne got the rope and threw it over one of the beams overhead.

He tied the end to a ring in the floor, and then while I held Eddie's wrists, he bound Eddie's hands. Then Sterne and I pulled up until Eddie's toes just barely touched the floor.

We did the most important thing next grabbed the legs and bound the feet a bit apart to two stanchions below. Let them move if they want. It makes them think they can flee the pain. Then they see it comes anyway, despite their struggle. They despair and let it engulf them.

But if you don't tie the legs, they kick at you. You can get a nasty bruise.

Sterne tossed Eddie's shoes to the side and bound the ankles.

Eddie had recovered himself enough to begin his protests.

"Bastards! You can't fucking do this!"

"Who's going to stop me, Eddie?" I asked him. I entwined my fingers in his pigtail and pulled his head down close to my lips. I whispered in his ear, "Can you stop me? By telling somebody? Who are you going to tell? Your lawyer's far away. Complain to him, and maybe the shower will be scalding hot next time you use it."

He didn't say anything. I looked into his eyes - deep brown eyes. He started to speak, and I slapped him.

"Shut the fuck up, Eddie," I said. "You'll say all you want in a few minutes."

Sterne walked to the side and got his hunting knife.

It gleamed when he brought it into the harsh light. Sterne showed it to Eddie, showed him how polished and sharp it was. He didn't speak - he watched Eddie's bright dark eyes follow the curving blade.

Sterne flicked the knife, and one of the straps on the tank top fell. He grabbed the other strap and sawed through it. The cloth fell to the floor, and I kicked it away.

Eddie's chest and back were bare.

He swallowed hard. He was scared. That made him speak again: "What are you going to do? Beat me up?"

"You were told, fuck-off, to shut up," Sterne said. He emphasized with the knife. He put its point right under Eddie's chin - he pushed a little, a very little, and a drop or two of blood came. Eddie swallowed hard.

Then Sterne moved the reddened tip down to Eddie's chest, and put it underneath the left pectoral muscle.

"Nice definition, Eddie," Sterne said. "I can see just where I should stick this. Right here. A little pressure, and you're history. Into the heart. It's bright red when it gushes out. Just like a fountain. Do you know how much blood a guy like you has?"

Eddie said nothing. His belly moved in and out harder, that was all.

Sterne moved away, and tossed the knife down onto the work table.

Only I could do what came next. I stood facing him.

"We're not going to kill you, Eddie," I said. "Not that way. We want more than your life. We want you. You don't understand? You will. Then you can be an arrogant bastard all you want."

"I don't know what the fuck you mean," he said. "Talk sense." He spoke calmly, but his torso had begun to gleam with his natural fear-sweat.

I felt his belly and moved my hands below. The jeans were held up by a brass button and belt. I snapped the button off. It fell below and rolled away. I undid the broad leather belt, and its ends dangled down. My hands moved behind him and felt down his ass. I could gauge the muscle there, and the way it dimpled in its response to my touch. As I played with his butt, his pants slid down around his knees.

His cock and balls flopped out.

Eddie gave a deep groan. You could almost pity him. His heart pounded visibly.

"Hey, look at this," Sterne said. "Look what we got. He's not cut. Don't they have any doctors over in the sticks, Eddie? They do that up here when you're born. Not you, fucker. Cock's ready for us to do it if we want. Right, Eddie?"

The foreskin did not cover the cockhead completely. The tip and its delicate eyelet were free, and the thick cock head was visible under the foreskin covering. The cock was the kind that's so big and thick as it curves out, it hides the balls behind. Eddie's were fat eggs, nested behind that big cock.

I made a movement towards him, and before he could react, I had him. The cock filled my hand. It felt hot in my palm. I could feel blood pounding - maybe that was my own, maybe his.

Eddie's breath went in sharply. He tried to move away, but I had hold of him, and stopped him.

"You're not going anywhere for a while, Eddie," I said. "And I've got to make you naked. Really naked."

I drew back the foreskin. The cock head shone in the light, red and wet and gleaming. Then the foreskin rolled back into place. I toyed with him for a minute or two, reaching under him and squeezing his balls.

"You please a lot of girls with this, Eddie?" I asked.

"Fuck you, man."

"You'll please a lot of guys here with it."

"You first, faggot?"

"Never been with a man?"

A second's silence. "No."

That second meant it was a lie He'd lie about it, but like most of America's blue collar studs, he'd experimented. Probably let some teenager blow him. Lucky kid.

Another second. "What're you gonna do?"

"Have fun."

I'd pleasure him first. I re-wrapped my hand around his cock, and drew the foreskin over the head. Again. The head got redder. Again.

"You're doing good, Eddie."

A few times more. The head was purplish now, and the shaft began to curve up. I took the foreskin between each thumb and forefinger, and drew it forward and out, so that it stretched beyond the head. I put a forefinger in there, and felt the little eyelet weeping its hot salt clear juice.! moved my finger under and behind the cock head, where it's so sensitive...

When I took my finger out, its tip was wet with him. I raised my finger up and slowly put it in my mouth.

"Do you know how good you taste, Eddie? You taste real strong... and if you've never been with a man, how come you're so ready for me?"

"Fuck you, man," he said - softly.

In reply, I put my lips on his left nipple, and tasted. I let the tip of my tongue play with its teat-head. He quivered and tried to move back, then checked himself. Fear of worse? Or pleasure he would deny? Or both?

I stopped.

I stepped back.

Sterne glanced at me, nodded, and moved to the table. He picked up the thick strap we used. Leather, blackened by years of sweat and blood. He took one of the stun guns and handed it to me. I put it in my belt.

"Just a second," I told Sterne. I said it quietly.

I always stop here for a moment. Here's where Eddie would cross the threshold. He'd come out... different. I knew that enough pain will destroy a man's personality. I didn't want that for Eddie. We wouldn't mutilate his mind, his personality. Instead it was like I'd be drunk on his pain and want to be drunk, and want to see him drunk with it too.

I felt myself breathing. It hurt a little in the middle of my chest.

I looked over at Sterne. The crotch of his pants bulged.

I walked around Eddie, watching his eyes watching me. He saw the stun gun. Maybe he'd heard about its force.

His body rose like a column in front of me. The armpits showed thick hair. and the chest was decorated with a light pattern of black hair, its pectoral muscles raised up and taut. The belly was three waves of muscle no fat on him. At the navel the hair began again, a line pointing down to his cock curving out and down. His nipples were the oval kind, not the honey-brown color some white guys have but light red-rose. A lot of them are like that, the union of muscle and macho swagger and a mouth that says "Fuck you" like outside people say "Hello," ... and light, delicate things. His tattoos - how much had he paid for them? Snakes in black, a Chinese dragon in red and white and salmon colored scales, covered in the forearms by his black hair. He'd wanted me to notice him. Well, I had.

From behind I came up and threw my left arm around his chest to brace him and prevent him from escape. I had him - and lifted the stun gun up to his eyes, to show him.

Suddenly, I moved. I pressed the stun gun against the navel.

Eddie screamed.

His body tensed. He tried to escape me. He couldn't. I followed him as he writhed back.

I lifted the stun gun off his belly.

He gulped air. I hit him again.

He screamed again.

Louder, when I twisted the whorls of navel flesh in the stun gun's metal prongs.

I drew back.

The screaming stopped all at once.

"Bastard!" he shouted at me. "I'll fucking kill you!"

I stepped behind him again so he couldn't see what I'd do, and threw my arm around him below - it just took a second - and caught the left nipple between the little claws of the stun gun.

Again the scream of pain. He gulped in air and screamed it out. A stream of piss gushed out onto the floor in front of him.

Sterne was waiting for that. He dipped the leather into the yellow pool.

"This makes it sting more, Eddie," he said. "We'll take all you can give us."

He put his face up to Eddie's. "But if you shit, Eddie," Sterne said, "I'll smear your fucking arrogant mouth with the turd."

The strap swung through the air and hit Eddie hard across the back. Very hard make the first ones count.

Eddie's body jerked around and he gave a little cry. Not a scream-the pain's different. And let him experience his own loss of control over his sounds as the beating goes on...

Eddie's back showed a nice red welt.

Sterne swung again. This one went to the ass.

Eddie's breath came in sharply. He twisted again. this welt was redder (no tan down there).

Again. The back of the thigh.

Then the torso - high up near the armpits, low near the navel, across the nipples, the back repeatedly. He never knew when the blow was coming - no regular rhythm so he could anticipate - and he never knew where.

His flesh became a series of reddish welts that I knew stung at first, then burned.

He let his head fall forward - jerked it back when a blow fell.

His back muscles, the lats flared open by his bonds, moved whenever the blows fell on them.

His "ughs" and little cries became loud ones as the strap fell upon flesh already tormented.

Sweat soaked Sterne's uniform. His breath came hard. The stain at his crotch was darker.

I motioned to him again.

As suddenly as they began, the blows stopped.

1 Comment

1. 

   chowdaddy - March 28, 2020, 10:47 am

   Whoo, hot!!!