Doug Ellis

This chapter eroticises non-consensual sex in a voyeuristic sense, it does not condone or glorify it. It takes some of the archetypes of gay domination or S&M fantasy, e.g. positions of power, physical prowess, isolation, bondage to illustrate the motives driving such an assault. I have endeavoured to show how, in real life people can and do save themselves while undergoing terrible ordeals.

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As a product of the criminal justice system the prison service has grown up with rankings and uniforms similar to those in police and even military services but also allied in some ways to other forms of custody and care such as secure hospitals and other kinds of military institutions.

Fewer restrictions are imposed on becoming a prison officer, fewer demands are made in the screening process and sometimes those who are attracted to the military or to policing end up as prison staff. Sometimes these people are fond of exerting their authority over others but don't have the charisma to make that work without an institution and a uniform, bars, gates and if necessary weapons. Sometimes it is just about power.

Would-be police officers who don't make the grade selection or fail in training, big fellas with flat feet, little fellas with a power complex, people who just needed a decent salary and accommodation but not high flyers, not as a rule. Some will maximise their potential, some will thrive but most will take the salary, then having survived, take the pension. Though there are many caring and giving individuals working in the system because they believe in a just custody system and the possibility of rehabilitation. The best of these get exhausted sometimes and cannot give of their best. Mistakes get made. We can assume they are the good guys and we can overlook the few who are not, those who sneer at the lives of the people they have in their charge and who see an opportunity. Lee Dursley, for example.

The inmates, contrary to expectations, are often achievers, super bright individuals who made a big mistake, predators perhaps. In the system these mix in with lowlifes, carrion feeders who would never make the cut and who'd rob or destroy thoughtlessly just to get through, alongside all those who, through intoxication of one kind or another, set their own and possibly other lives into a downward spiral and eventually fall foul of the law.

The increasing cost of keeping more and more people secure in long term institutions is a constant conundrum for any society. The resentments of some taxpayers at the cost of humane conditions for prisoners leave alone provision of systems of rehabilitation are a thorn in the side of many a government under economic pressure.

Overcrowding. Underfunded re-education and probation systems. Staffing shortages must compete against demands for more and longer custodial sentences for criminals. Particularly those jails in the struggling, post-industrial cities where jobs are scarce, drugs and violence are the rule inside and out of prison and prospects for improvement are poor.

The boundaries between conditions inside prisons and outside can become blurred when people in society at large feel trapped and rendered powerless by their circumstances and some of those held in custody are able to manipulate criminal organisations outside and vice versa. So the world of organised crime can be as influential within the walls of the prison and in it's organisational structures and capable of influencing people, even civil servants and politicians beyond it. There is always someone on the make.

So if you're the good guy and Bob Kirkland thought of himself as the good guy, you sometimes need a lucky break to make any safe headway. He had no idea what his wish should be. As usual, in his position, the best policy was to follow the rule book, keep your eyes and ears open but with caution. Being seen to see and hear only what he should, while trying to see and hear what he shouldn't.

When the alarm was sounded and the prison went into emergency lockdown, security officers would get to the emergency first, assess the situation and control it as quickly as possible. They worked with staff, universally, to ensure that the security aspect, for which they were all responsible, was uppermost in people's minds. However, theirs was not a happy department, chiefly because their boss was disinterested in them as a team and with their function.

Frank Singleton. Gone to the bad some said. Too many interests other than his work some said. Bent on minding his own business, in the worst sense, when it was his job to know everyone else' business. He was good at manipulating people and had the Governor eating out of his hand but he'd been creaming off what he could in external meetings, conferences and other time off, perks in general and his coterie of favourites around the prison, notably his association with Lee Dursley, who would be in and out of Singleton's office several times each week and could be up there for an hour at a throw.

This fact alone called into question the nature of their business. Dursley was resented on the wing for the cover that was required while he was in conference with the security chief and because it was assumed that everything said and done on the wing was reported directly. Singleton's credibility in the eyes of his sub-ordinates was compromised for his questionable choice of trusted staff members, and it was assumed, informants.

If the doubters had only known that the situation was altogether simpler in nature. Together, Singleton and Dursley managed the supply of just about anything impermissible coming into the prison and being traded within it. Of course, Dursley was the over confident and none too subtle courier. He was also in a position to relay messages from influential people both sides of the security perimeter.

In his turn, Singleton dealt with the internal politics and and key people in the external supply chain. He was and always had been a brute. Strong body, thick neck, he liked to be physically intimidating but more, he was extremely skilled at menacing people quietly. He and the steroid toting body builder made an effective team.

Singleton was 55 years old, had 25 years in the prison service, following 14 in the army. His first security post had been in a youth custody institution where he had previously been a judo instructor, part of the training program offered to newly recruited staff. It was there that a certain kid, who reminded him of himself in so many ways, and who showed great promise and great strength for his age, caught his attention. How he had recognised that kid, now fully grown, in a different institution all those years later, he could not fathom but he'd picked Ellis out among the P.E. group at the gate of the lifer wing as they departed towards the gym building as if it were yesterday. Something sprung into his mind like a bolt.

Dursley was instructed to make observations and find a means to get Ellis to an interview in Singleton's office as soon as could be managed. In due course, Dursley had trumped up something sufficiently justifiable and as no further charges were involved, the escort would leave Ellis without legal advice in the company of security chief, Singleton and one officer (Dursley of course) at the door of the octagonal office.

When Ellis was called, during afternoon lockdown, word went around the wing very quickly. Rumour was rife about the purpose of the interview and in certain quarters it was immediately assumed that Ellis was an informant. Dangerous, even for a man who commanded as much respect as Ellis unwittingly had. The truth was way outside their expectations.

Singleton had wisely left the escort of the prisoner to others and although Dursley was one of four officers taking Ellis, tightly handcuffed, from the lifer unit to security, his was not the responsibility. Until reaching Singleton's office other uniformed staff took charge. There, as planned, the lightly clad figure of the massive prisoner was left with the security supremo and one designated member of the escort, of course, Lee Dursley.

Doug stood square shouldered ahead of the great, immovable desk which had indeed had the room remodelled around it as it could not be removed down the winding stairs.

Singleton sat behind it quite relaxed. Powerful in every sense. Ellis was not easily intimidated but once the heavy steel door closed behind him an uneasy feeling came over him, reaching beyond the curiosity as to why he'd been summoned. He was unprepared for the carefully planned situation that unfolded. A man of few words as we have seen, so made no demand of the authority about why he had been sent for although he was curious to know. The man seated before him was somehow familiar but he couldn't think from where. That matter was soon to be clarified.

Dursley swiftly stepped close behind Ellis and clipped a carabiner across the cuffs restraining his big hands then pulled on a rope, hoisting Ellis' arms back and up, threatening to dislocate them both at the shoulder. As he did so, fastening it somewhere behind the big man.

So unused was he to calling for help or in distress that his mouth was gagged before he could offer any. such expression. Again, when the hobble was applied to his ankles the discomfort in his arms restricting his movement and balance preventing him from offering any resistance. Then, once his feet were restrained, the tension on the rope was released and Dursley threw the loose end across the desk to his master who pulled gently towards him the now toppling tower of Doug Ellis, whose massive chest and stubbled chin landed gracelessly, like a great aircraft touching down with no undercarriage on the green leather top.

Looking up now at his tormentor, a spark of recognition twinkled in his newly resentful eyes, just as Singleton began to introduce himself and fill in the gap in Ellis' memory. What Singleton did not make clear was his intentions although he had certainly introduced these in a manner which led Ellis to think his rights were being flagrantly abused.

At a nod from Singleton, the helpless lower body of Doug Ellis was exposed. Dursley, pulled the loose, grey, prison issue joggers down as far as the hobbles which restrained Ellis' feet and a cold realisation touched the big power lifter. Although the two other men in the room were still fully clothed, he was about to be sexually abused. He could make no objection or cry out, so, in an instant, as his grey/green, prison issue boxers were also pulled down he withdrew his conscious thoughts inwards as he would at the same time each day. He totally shut down his external self and imposed a state of relaxation just as if he were in his bunk on the lifer unit which would daily become, in his imagination, a much loved country walk to a place almost sacred from his childhood. From there he could see, completely detached from his body, as Singleton tied off the rope securing Doug to the desk and rose from his chair pushing it back as he did so. He smiled and playfully patted Doug's head like a faithful dog but the smile turned to a sneer as he unfastened his belt and moved to where he could strop Ellis' arse.

Dursley pulled Ellis' T up over his head revealing the sinuous acres of his massively muscled back, sprinkled with white blond down, surprised and somewhat disappointed that there was no recoil from the strokes of Singletons savage belt.

Then it came. Singleton, who had removed his shirt and tie to avoid sweat stains upon them, released his pent up genitals, admired himself briefly as his large testicles swung free and then spat on the great, purple globed head of his erection, then pointed it at the downy porthole held open by Dursley.

Not a squeak escaped the gag, not a moan or a groan or objection of any kind left the restraint of Ellis' mouth and nose as 8 inches of extraordinarily fat fuck tool was brutally rammed in one hit into Doug's arse. Singleton assumed with some cynicism that this was no virgin hole. By coincidence he was right but no whore would have withstood this onslaught without complaint. The beast was channeling Frank Singleton and he fucked Doug Ellis with a cruelty and venom that brought his orgasm to a slavering, panting climax in somewhat merciful haste. He returned to his accustomed place and slapped Doug's face with his slimy cock.

Dursley, who had meticulously removed every inch of clothing and set them neatly on a chair nearby, stood tanned and rippling, posing his sinuous muscularity before Ellis, he teased the prone lifer with an absurdly long, enormously thick, black dildo and his own erect cock which was furnished with a very large Prince Albert piercing and which, as he showed Doug's unblinking face, was tattooed with the word "Ripper" in gothic script on the underside. His attention to Doug's arse was more prolonged, making a play of pressing more and more of the huge dildo into the Blond giant's body until the whole massive rubber dong was inserted, then, rotating it so that the rubber ball sack turned upward so that he could cram his pierced hard-on in below it and fucked Doug with this gigantic excess of cock in the slippery mess of his master's cum.

To his utter astonishment, rippling energy pulsed through his member as it luxuriated in the warmth of this great body, slow then fast then slow pulling and pulling and milking his cock, pulling on and teasing the ring, pulling it deeper harder and harder. Dursley gasped, eyes wide and blew his load in seconds having intended to give the man an extended agony of his lust. So astonished was he and so out of control his body convulsed repeatedly with an orgasm that threatened to tear his whole, massive frame to shreds. Then it was over, leaving him feeling as though something in his insides had been pulled out. Incredible.

The leering head of security, empowered by the site of his sidekick in such throws of orgasm, but scoffing at the way he had failed to restrain his cum, returned to Doug's defenceless hole, waved the disorientated Dursley aside, proudly hefting his meat mallet in his hand, with some considerable additional pressure required, stuffed his throbbing cock in alongside the huge dildo still lodged improbably in Ellis' gaping arse, stretching the tortured tissue of his unaccustomed anus still wider. Singleton almost immediately felt the insistent stroking and rippling of tiny waves increasing and decreasing in speed and intensity and drawing his fat eight inches in deeper, pulling harder and harder on the great head with an insane pressure, cramming his body against Doug's and squeezing the arrogant officer's heavy balls against the profiled edge of the oak desk before his control and participation in this process seemed to be snatched from him and what felt like his internal organs blasting out through the head of his tumescent cock. He lay down, panting, against the impossibly broad back of Doug Ellis, his body quivering, saliva gushing from his slack mouth and his eyes rolled back in his head as if he were losing consciousness.

The two officers slowly regained their senses, looked uneasily in blank disbelief at each other in a half daze. Things had not proceeded quite as they had expected. They also realised there was much to do.

Firstly, they focussed on dressing, regaining their composure and in a purely business-like way, as one uniformed thug to another, carefully inspecting each other for signs of struggle or dishevelment.

Dursley quickly cleaned up the goo with wet wipes and swept everything including the dildo into a black, plastic sack. He also carefully replaced Ellis' clothes, making sure any seepage was distastefully but carefully wiped away before doing so. Ellis himself appeared to be unconscious but breathing softly so Dursley removed the gag and that too went into the sack. His weight taken by the desk, Ellis was also released from the hobbles but neither officer could rouse the apparently senseless figure.

Singleton had failed. Although he was robbed of the opportunity to break Doug Ellis, to hear the great man whimpering like a beaten dog, to see tears of frustration, anger, hatred and humiliation leaking from his eyes, Singleton had assumed from his experience of prisoners, that Ellis would go back unsteadily to his cell, make excuses for the marks on his wrists and ankles and because of the intense stigma, particularly in prisons attached to men getting fucked, that he would never breathe a word about the vile indignity he had suffered.

Influential as he was, Singleton could not have explained a corpse in his office following the "Interview" , nor would his reason stand up under cross examination for the calling of this prisoner to an interrogation in the first place.

A medic was hastily sent for and eventually two very strong male nurses, used to dealing with some really big and angry men in pain, managed somehow to manoeuvre the semi conscious Ellis down the tight staircase to ground level and over to the prison hospital, where he spent the following 2 nights, face down.