Incarcerated

Looked at in retrospect it was one hell of a risk to take for a mere £1000 but then, at the time, £1000 represented the difference between possibly keeping my house and definitely loosing it.

My wife of three years, Dawn has a lovely face but this is completely outclassed by the perfection of her body. She is twenty-five, stands 5' 5" tall and has radiant, auburn shoulder length. I am only three inches taller than she and of slim build. Some people have told me that I am very good looking but others merely remark that I look young for my age (which happens to be only months older than her). Whatever the truth, we were generally regarded as an attractive couple. In terms of sexual history, Dawn admitted to three previous relationships with no one night stands where I had known five girls in the biblical sense but two of those were one time efforts.

We met while I was in my final year of university when she was already working as a well paid legal secretary. We married the week after I graduated. Due to me spending time with Dawn when I should have been studying (or possibly because I have limited ability) I got only a very second class degree and was forced to accept an only average salary doing fairly mundane office work. Nevertheless, our combined wages allowed us to buy a house at what seemed a bargain price at the time.

The problems started only a month after moving in when Dawn discovered she was in the family way. It was a difficult pregnancy right from the start and she was forced to give up work over four months before the baby was born. There were then a series of successive interest rate rises and you will see that, with only my mediocre salary to support us, we were soon in severe financial difficulties. It got to the point where we were well in arrears with the mortgage and I was informed that if I did not clear at least £1000 within the next three months, the building society would start procedures to take possession of the house. By this time our little daughter was approaching two and just getting nicely past the toddling stage.

At 12.30 p.m. on Fridays it was the custom for everyone in the office to decamp to a nearby pub for a slightly extended lunch hour. I went along but only not to appear the odd man out. Even so I sat slightly apart from the rest. This kept me clear of buying rounds and allowed me to nurse a single pint until it was time to return to work. One such Friday a pub customer unconnected with my firm was sharing my table and unasked bought me a second pint when he replenished his own drink.

This started a conversation that somehow arrived at the subject of honesty with me declaring that I considered myself a reasonably honest person. Given the hypothetical scenario of finding an old wallet containing £1000 in cash, what would I do? Almost without any thought I said that as it might easily be the life savings of a pensioner, I would hand it in to the police.

My new friend nodded in agreement but then asked, "But suppose it was an expensive wallet and you actually saw it fall from the pocket of a wealthy looking guy, just before he roared off in his Porsche?"

I had to admit to him that I would keep it, giving the excuse, "£1000 would be a life saver for me just at this moment and I reckon that he could easily afford it."

After an apparent change of subject I found myself confiding that while I felt badly underpaid, the directors of the firm seemed to receive far higher remuneration that they deserved. This was just what he wanted to hear and, after his provision of another pint, I found myself seriously considering the scam he proposed. What broke through my resistance was the knowledge that it had already worked once, with the help of my predecessor in the job, and on that occasion everything had gone like clockwork.

I would have written full details of my illicit involvement but have been advised against it. The only sticking point revolved on trust and he easily solved that by handing over my share up front at the same time I was given the identifying number of the invoice to be falsified. Fate must have been against me from the start because I did the switch on a Friday afternoon and the auditors arrived for a random check the following Tuesday. For three days I turned up at the office and tried to work normally, hoping against hope that nothing would be found but then I was called into the boss's office. Even when it became clear that the game was up I still had hope that my punishment would only be dismissal but instead I was given notice of intention to prosecute. It didn't help that the firm had been defrauded for a far greater amount than I had thought was intended.

It was a fraught three months waiting for my case to come to trial but my solicitor constantly tried to reassure me that, as I was pleading guilty and it was my first offence, any sentence that I was given would almost certainly be suspended. The night before my court appearance, Dawn and I made passionate love on the basis that it might be the last for quite a while but I actually arrived at the law courts lulled into a false feeling of confidence. It was therefore a total shock when I was sentenced to two years with only half of that suspended. I almost collapsed and had to grasp the rail at the front of the dock to stop myself from falling. In the gallery I could see my wife's stricken face, showing exactly the same horror that I was feeling.

With a sinking feeling in my stomach I was taken down to the cells or rather a room adjoining the cells containing several tables. There were already several newly sentenced men in there saying goodbye to loved ones. I took a seat wondering what was going to happen to me. Standing against the walls there were three males in uniform that I assumed were prison warders. One in particular caught my eye. Aged about forty he was about 6' 2" tall with a barrel chest, meaty muscular arms and a completely shaved bald head – he looked exactly like the archetypal evil bodyguard so often portrayed in films and I sincerely hoped that I had nothing to do with him.

After a few minutes Dawn walked hesitantly into the room. I could tell immediately that she was deeply upset that I was really going to prison but was desperately trying to put on a brave face. There seemed so much to say before we were parted and Dawn could not seem able to drag her eyes away from my face. In contrast, to try and maintain my own composure, I kept glancing around. During these frequent scans of the room my slight fear of the large ugly guard changed into one of intense dislike because he did not take his eyes away from Dawn even for an instant. Worse he was looking at her with open lust, constantly licking his thick lips with a coarse tongue.

Eventually this short interlude came to an end and all relatives had to leave, Dawn casting one loving unhappy glance back at me from the door. I slumped down in my seat fighting a wave of despairing emotion but before I had even had time to take a single breath; a voice said roughly, "On your feet prisoner – you're with me." I looked up in dread to find that I was being addressed by the big forbidding guard.

He led me outside and we climbed in the back of a large prison van where I sat on one side and him on the other facing me. There were no other occupants. "I've got good news and bad news," he said. "By rights you should be going to an open prison but there are no spare places at the moment. The good news is that you are going to the nearest prison to here, so your lovely little wife will not have far to travel when she visits. The bad news is that it's a category one, high security prison holding the toughest, most dangerous prisoners in the country."

"Just temporarily," I asked hopefully.

He shook his head. "If you were doing longer you would be moved on quickly but as it is you'll do your whole time there. But look on the bright side, being so close, your delightful wife can bring her little ripe body and big tits for you to look at far more often." My flesh cringed. I didn't like him speaking about Dawn at all and for him to do so in such terms left a nasty taste in my mouth. "Been married long?"

"Three years." I would rather not have answered but I was afraid of antagonising him."

"Kids?"

"A little girl – she's nearly two." I hoped that knowing Dawn was a mother would make him show more respect. It seemed to have the desired effect because he said nothing more and we rode in silence for the rest of the journey and on arrival I was relieved to be handed over to someone else. I was then caught up in the procedure of being registered, medically examined and issued with prison dress. My own clothes were then taken away together with some of the other possessions I had taken with me.

Finally I was taken to where there were six adjoining cells all leading off a room containing tables and chairs. I was directed to one of these cells but I got the impression that all the others were currently vacant. I tried out the bed, (it was as hard as expected, then busied myself putting my meagre passions on a shelf affixed to the wall. While I was thus engrossed the cell door opened and I turned to see the warder I dreaded stroll in. "Settling in," he said.

Now during my induction I had been told that warders had always to be addressed by rank and name and I had also gathered that this guard was called Bullrite, so I said respectfully, "Yes Officer Bullrite.

He laughed, "My name's Wright – Bull is just a nickname."

I repeated my previous answer, this time correctly, by which time he had made himself comfortable sitting on the edge of my bed. "Well don't get too settled," he warned, "You're only in these transit cells for a week until you are fully assessed and then you'll be joining the general prison population."

I had already been given this information so I just nodded and this seemed to irritate him. "I'll say this for you – you've certainly tagged yourself a cracking piece of skirt," he sneered nodding towards the photograph of Dawn that I had lovingly placed on my shelf." As in the van I had no wish to discuss Dawn with this vile man so I set my jaw and ignored him. He laughed. "I hope you don't hope to find the same innocent loving faithful wife waiting for you when you get released. By the time you get out it's a certainty that she'll have been well fucked by at least one man – I'd bet on it."

His words provoked an unintended response from me. "You'd lose I know that Dawn won't cheat on me."

Again he gave an evil laugh. "You believe that and I think that at this moment she probably believes it too but can you deny that she's a hot blooded girl who likes her bedtime pleasures?" I couldn't so I said nothing and he went on triumphantly, "She's going to get lonely and she inevitably going to have problems and when that happens there is always going to be some kind guy on hand to help her out. Believe me there is nothing like a bit of kindness to a damsel in distress to get her to open her legs in gratitude. Then once she's done it one time she won't be able to stop."

Bull left me to ponder this very believable scenario for a moment and then went on, "There's also another way she might fall. The security in the offices here is not very good and I'll bet that your home address is already general knowledge throughout the prison. Some are going to pass that information to their scumbag mates outside and your lovely Dawn is soon going to have men knocking on her door offering to keep her company while you're away. She'll refuse of course but then she'll be told that unless she plays ball, you'll be given an extra had time by their pals in here. You know her so how do you think she'll react in that situation?

My insides seized up and I sat on the bed alongside my tormentor. His shaft had hit home because I knew that my darling wife would do almost anything if she thought it would stop me getting hurt. "On balance it would be better if she was seduced by scumbags because there's far less risk of her falling in love with any of them," Bull added, throwing salt on my wound.

We sat in silence for a minute or two before he started to cheerfully talk again, "Looking on the bright side, you're going to get far more sex than she does before you get out."

"What do you mean?" I asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Look in a mirror," he said. "I bet there are still times that you are still asked for ID. And that pretty face of yours – you must know that dressed up with a bit of make-up you could easily pass for a girl. The men in this prison are going to love you. They're all hard men without exception and most haven't

had real contact with a woman for years. Within two minutes of your first time in the showers you're going to be bent over with a fat cock down your throat, another up your arse and four other men holding you and all wanting a turn. The gym changing room will be nearly as bad and then there's your cell mate to think about. You'll have to suck him off several times a day and you can expect to spend most nights on your belly with him stuck up you. If you're really unlucky he'll earn himself some snout by hiring out your arse to his cronies."

"But I'm not gay," I stammered.

"Very few like you are at the start but most pick up a taste for it. Better if they do – half of the guys who top themselves in prison do it after getting a Dear John letter from their wives or girlfriends and the other half do it to escape the constant sexual abuse." With that he stood up and strolled to the door, turning before exiting to throw me a mean grin and say, "Just thought you ought to be prepared."

He left me sitting where I was and trembling from head to toe. Bull had painted a nightmare that I could not get out of my mind. My guts were in a total cramp from contemplating Dawn being unfaithful to me, in either scenario, but that panic was almost totally overridden by fear of what awaited me the following week. Eventually night came but I was unable to sleep and the few moments that I did drop off I was assailed by terribly realistic dreams of what was to come. Mind you the dreams were not too different from my waking state because having a vivid imagination I was constantly conjuring up in graphic detail pictures of everything that Bull had described, with various additional permutations thrown up by my fertile mind.

The whole of the following day was the same. Distressingly, I frequently found myself with a very stiff erection but strangely these were invariably prompted by mental pictures of my own sexual assault rather than those of my wife in the arms of another man. I explained this to myself by saying that this was a perverse bodily reaction to the total fear that kept me permanently in its grip.

On Saturday morning I felt like a zombie but I would be seeing Dawn at visiting time in the afternoon and knew that I had to pull myself together. No matter what was going to happen to me there was no point in my wife worrying herself to death about me so I resolved to play down my anxiety and pretend that I had no worries about my impending move to the main prison. I shaved very carefully, dressed as well as I could and then killed a lot of time by pacing round and round my cell, desperately to get my mind right.

With about half an hour to go I had achieved a measure of composure until the cell door opened and Bull leaned half way in. "I'm off duty now till Monday but here's something that might help a bit," he said, tossing me a jar of Vaseline. "After you get moved on Monday or Tuesday, make sure have a good shit every morning and then use plenty of that – you know where. It's still going to hurt like hell that first time but with that stuff to ease the way, the pain might not be quite so bad." Then he withdrew as quickly as he had appeared but leaving me in an abject state of panic.

When the time came I was taken to a large room filled with small tables, each with a prisoner already sitting on one side. I was shown to the empty table and sat down to join the others in gazing eagerly towards the door. After a few minutes the door opened and the visitors flooded in. My heart was pounding as I searched anxiously for a first glimpse of my lovely wife. When I saw her she was scanning the tables looking for me and when our eyes met she pushed others out of the way to run towards me. I stood up and the next moment she was in my embrace, her arms tightly round my neck as she covered my face with loving kisses. I had not yet had time to find her mouth with mine when a firm hand gripped my shoulder painfully hard before a voice said, "Sit down on opposite sides of the table." We did as ordered but automatically reached out and grip each others hand, only to hear the officious screw say, "No touching and no passing of stuff without permission."

Dawn started to speak but I drowned her out by asking about our little daughter and how they were managing without me. She waited patiently giving reassuring answers to my queries but eventually when my flow slowed she asked what was happening to me. I would have preferred to keep talking about her and Crystal so I told her 'nothing much' but she persevered with her questions. Again I tried to cover by describing the transit cells at length and saying that it was all rather boring. "But how long will you be staying in transit?" she asked.

"Oh I think I'll be moved into the main prison on Monday or Tuesday I told her, trying to sound unconcerned but ashamed of the involuntary catch in my voice.

"What then, I can imagine it will be rather rough?" she said perceptively.

I put a false smile on my face and spoke in what was intended to be a light hearted tone. "They say that there's a slight chance of someone like me suffering a bit of sexual abuse," I admitted bravely but then I lost it. My face crumpled and the body trembling returned. "Oh darling, I'm terrified at what they're going to do to me," I sobbed.

My wife's hand shot out to grip mine firmly and I saw a look of determination on her face as she said fiercely, "Don't you worry, I've a feeling that you are going to be alright." For some reason her voice carried absolute conviction and as a result I was able to get through the remaining visit without my tumultuous emotions again taking control.

I got through the afternoon and evening on a bit of a high from the pleasure of seeing my wife – and the reassurance of her words but when trying to sleep I was again assailed by the twin spectres of my own violent rape and pictures of Dawn in the midst of passion with another man between her legs. In the middle of Sunday morning, Bull entered my cell with very welcome news. "You can put the grease away for a while because your sexual initiation has been delayed for a couple of weeks. You've been allocated to work in the library and while there you can stay in this cell. I hear that the computer catalogue system is in a bit of a mess and if you can sort it out you might work there for a bit longer."

I felt profound relief but this was mixed with a feeling of foolishness at my sleepless night. On the one hand I had discounted my wife's confident assurance and on the other, it was plain from her obvious total love that she would never even consider being unfaithful to me. During visiting she had quickly put to rest my stated fear of ex-cons calling and blackmailing her into sex. "That's easy," she had told me, "I always look out of the window when there's a knock on the door and if it's someone I don't know, I just don't answer the door."

I quite enjoyed work in the library. It was not especially interesting work but I was always busy enough to keep my mind occupied rather than straying to morbid thoughts. Men from the main prison came in (the kind of man you would hate to meet on a dark night), but never in great number and there was always a screw on duty. Most of the prisoners just put in their book request or collected a previous order but there were a few who tried to give me a hard time verbally. One in particular asked with apparent friendliness, "Haven't seen you before, Where y' kipping?" I said that I was still in the transit cells, to which he sneered, "Bull keeping you as his private punk is he – don't worry, we'll have you eventually, that's a promise pussy-boy."