Jason Walker is a seriously hung stud who is framed for rape and sentenced to hard time at a work farm run by a sadistic female warden in this anonymous series with some fantastic art by Amalaric!

County Work Farm - Part 1: Busted
by Anonymous
Art by Amalaric
Series: County Work Farm


The ride out to The County Work Farm from the courthouse took no time at all, not giving Jason Walker much time to sort out the events of the last twelve hours. One minute he was at the top his game and the next cuffed and stuffed in the back of a jailhouse van, sentenced to a year’s hard labor. What he did remember about the night before dissolved into a blur by 1:00 AM.

Somewhere around midnight Jason recalled driving his land rover by that roadside bar with the irresistible neon sign, “Cheap Beer and Girl’s”. Horny as hell, he pulled a fast u-turn. Sure enough inside there were lots of hot women and, yeah, beer flowed from the taps like water. “This is going to be like shooting fish in a barrel”, he thought. There was no competition. There were only a few men in the bar area, most of them scruffy older guys sitting together in a corner. Looking back on it they had a sinister air about them but at the time he was caught up with the sheer number of hot babes all eyeing him with admiration.

At 6’3’, Jason towered over the rest of crowd. Captain of his college football team, his powerful build was flawlessly visible in a tight white T-Shirt and jeans. If his super-sized broad back and tight waist weren’t enough to get female hormones pumping, his chest was a vision of perfection, He was acutely aware that with every move of his body, enormous mounds of pec muscle strained against his shirt, moving and stretching… Feeling like a bull stud, Jason instantly knew that he would be fucking one of those foxy babes before too long…maybe two or three before dawn.

One beer followed another as girls brought him setups from the bar. He didn’t remember buying any of them. But one thing was for sure – he was a man who could hold his beer, so Jason felt odd when he began to feel a strong buzz after number five. “What the hell?”, he thought, “It’s time to take aim and get one of these chicks into the back of my land rover.” Setting his sights on a blond fox with a rack straight out of a Penthouse magazine, he vaguely remembered making his move and…

Confined in the back of the prison van, Jason tried to remember what happened next. He and the babe were making their way to the parking lot when she suddenly screamed for help. There was a lot of yelling and accusations of rape, the vague shape of those scruffy men, handcuffs flashing in neon light, and being pushed into a squad car. The night went black for Jason, but he seemed to recall one of the men whispering into his ear something like, “The warden is gonna like you a whole lot, big fella.”

Morning came hard for Jason. His head felt like he’d been drinking for a weekend but, man, it was only five beers! His new environment was definitely not the back of his land rover, but what could only be a jail cell. In fact, it was the clanking sound of keys and the steel door opening that woke Jason from a bleary, restless sleep. He could barely believe the words of the burly man standing over his bunk, “Time for your trial, stud. We wanna get this over with quick so the van can get your big muscles up to the farm before noon. There’s plenty of work time left today.”

The jailer was right, as the trial seemed to be over in a matter of minutes. Jason was escorted by two armed guards to a room that appeared more a mock court of law than a real one. Refusing to be intimated, the big stud stood tall looking impressive in spite of his looming ordeal. Jason shifted his massive weight on his tree-trunk legs as he waited for “the judge”. Biceps bulged as he flexed his arms, handcuffed securely behind his back. A side door opened and a man of about 40 years of age entered he room, accompanied by the woman Jason had hit on the night before. The older man looked straight at Jason and said, “Mandy, is this the fellow who attempted to rape you?” “That’s him” was her coy feminine answer. Jason tried to protest about having rights and needing a lawyer but nothing seemed to matter. The next words of the judge were absolute and remained forever seared into Jason’s memory: “I’ve got bad news and goods news for you, young man. The bad news is that you are in a county where the remedy for hot shots like you is hard labor and a feel of leather on your big back. Your sentence is one year. The goods news is that the meals are hearty to keep you fit for work in the quarries. Now let’s get that big frame up to the farm, boy”. Mandy giggled, winking at the judge, and, within a matter of minutes, the “trial” was over and the stunned buck was hussled from the room yelling some bull shit about his innocence and the incompetent jack ass appointed as his lawyer who just sat there smiling at the judge with his finger shoved up his nose.

Jason felt the van make a sudden sharp turn to the left. Looking out of a small window he noticed a barbwire fence typical of a prison compound. Over the gate was a sign that read County Work Farm. The driver, a lean blond guy of about 30, brought the vehicle to a stop and looked back at the prisoner. Focusing on Jason’s bulge, the blond asked in a nonchalant manner, “How you hung, man?’. Before Jason could answer, he continued, “If you have an eight incher or more, it’s likely the warden will have you stretched out and whipped before lights out tonight. She has radar for bull hung guys and the lady is one mean bitch. Fact is, the warden has it in for guys she calls “cunt busters”.

Jason’s thick nine-inch cock stiffened.


The back door of the prison van opened with a sudden jolt finding Jason Walker spread out of the floor. Two hefty guards glared down at Jason, sizing up the most recent addition to the County Farm work force.

“Looks like a keeper,” said one enthusiastically.

“Sure enough,” enjoined the other. “Those ladies sure knew how to pick em”

If Jason had any lingering doubts about his being set up for this gig, he no longer did. Clearly that bitch Mandy had framed him. Were they all in on it? Were the beers spiked? And what about that drooling fox who rubbed her boobs against his taut bicep, whispering to him that his big guns should be put to productive use? Productive use! - Damn hard labor on this prison farm is what she really meant!

Although angry and frustrated at being a victim of a setup and coming to the realization that he’ll miss a year of college and varsity football, still, somewhere within him he felt intrigued about the comment from the driver moments ago. Could it be that the warden here is a woman? Jason Walker never met a female he could not cajole, manipulate and fuck with the ease of an army tank rolling across a meadow. Just as he was reassuring himself that he could “out-fox the fox”, as he always does with women, the two guards heaved him out the van.

“Let’s get you processed and up to the work fields, boy. Wasting time.”

The processing took place in an office where an attractive woman sat behind a desk with a simple sign “Intake Worker”. Her blouse was unbuttoned enough to make Jason want to see more. But her question abruptly broke his sex-focused trend of thought.

“Height, weight, chest and waist”, she demanded to know in a business like way, as if he were a piece of meat or farm animal.

He gave her the facts: 6’ 3”, 225 lbs, 48 chest, 32, waist”.

She followed up immediately with her next question: “Jock size – small, medium, large, extra-large?

Caught of guard, Jason took caution in responding. After a few seconds he offered, “I guess I have to say extra-large”.

“You guess?” she spat back. “Give it to me in inches”, she demanded. She was tough. She was a petite, but buxom, woman of about 30 years.

The stud stood there before her motionless. He was three times her size with shoulders as wide as her desk. His chest, two mountains of muscle made hers, in fact, look puny. If they had met in a bar off campus, she would be putty in his hands. But here, he is her prisoner. His fists clenched automatically and his jaw clenched tight while he considered his position. He had never been spoken to like this by anybody much less by an attractive woman. Out of the hundreds of women with whom he has had sex, most discover his cock size well before he strips. First of all, his package becomes obvious if he isn’t wearing a coat. Or, hell, the woman can feel the enormity of his manhood while making out well before they get to the bedroom. A few of them a fuss about his being too big but they all open up to his thick jackhammer and leave wanting him to jam them some more.

“North of nine.” was the reply he chose to give to her cock-size inquiry.

After noting this most vital statistic she closed her logbook and smiled insincerely up at the sublime stud who was just beginning to feel the humiliation of being under a woman’s complete control.

“You need to know the rules here”, she began.” They’re simple-

-Lights out in the barracks at 9 PM.
-Absolutely no jerking off or unauthorized blow jobs. Violations are dealt with severely.
-Inmates rise at 6AM. Shower and report to the barn for milking.
-After milking, there’s breakfast.
-You’re in the quarries by 8 AM.for work.
-There’s a break for lunch at noon. Back to work until 6 PM. when you are marched back to barracks for dinner and bed.
-Evening milking for men who require it.
-Demerits are given out by guards. Men who accumulate ten or more demerits must report to the yard whipping post on Wednesday and Saturday nights at 8 PM.
-Inmates rented out to locals for work are required to wear security bracelets at all times.
-Inmates assigned as galley rowers will report to the dock on Sundays at 1 PM.

Any questions?

Not knowing what “renting out”, “milking” or “galley rowing” was all about and not wanting to give her the satisfaction of asking, he instead blurted, “Yeah. Who does the whipping around here? You?” Stated arrogantly, the question was Jason’s way of putting his world back in order. How could a woman like her hurt a massive guy like him? But his crotch had a different kind of message. Even though it was meant as a kind of joke, as he asked if it was she who would whip him, he felt his cock jump a notch.

“You’ve got yourself a date, big fella and you’re in for quite a surprise.”, she said emphatically. “But I know the warden. She will want first crack. You did say you are ‘north of nine’, didn’t you?”

Her question didn’t need an answer. Without wanting it to, Jason’s cock continued to swell. This was the second reference to a female warden. Jason clasped his big hands in front of his crotch in a vain attempt to prevent this bitch from seeing the tent that was rising there. His cock had bloomed out of his jock. He could feel it, like a thick root, advancing along the ridges of his abdominals.

Jason was relieved as the two guards nudged Jason toward the door. It was one thing for his stuff to pop in front of girls while in his tight football gear or hanging loose for all to admire while jogging around the campus. It was quite another thing to be on inspection in front of a woman who has the power to have things done her way.

As Jason was being escorted out of the room, his cock was still heading north. He was already beginning to worry about the prohibition on jerking off.

As he turned his massive shoulders to clear the doorway, the stud inmate looked glanced back, noticing that the foxy intake worker was already on the telephone.


Leave a Reply