For eight more months, my plans had gone smoothly. Five of the seven girls were six months pregnant and the other two were four months along. Everything was going well until the day the cops showed up.
With search warrants in hand, they raided my house and soon found the basement. The girls were freed and I went to jail.
"Mr. Smith, you are in a lot of trouble," my attorney informed me during our first meeting at the local jail.
"Yes, I realize that," I replied.
"I strongly advise you to plead guilty. You are charged with many crimes, the worst of course being seven counts of kidnapping and rape. You are looking at life without parole. If you plead, you might just get a more lenient sentence," the attorney continued.
"I'm going to jail for the rest of my life regardless of what I do. I'll take my chances in court," I replied.
And so we went to court. Each of the girls testified against me, going into detail of what I had done to them. When it was all over with, I had gotten 350 concurrent years for kidnapping—fifty for each girl and seven life sentences for rape, without parole. There were also some other smaller felonies I had committed totaling up to another 100 years. Needless to say, I had seen my last day of freedom.
The grey Department of Corrections transport bus pulled into the state penitentiary. I, along with fifty other guys, was led into the processing area.
"Please empty your pockets into this pan," the huge, black guard ordered, "Also, deposit any jewelry you may have—watches, rings, necklaces, and anything else you didn't have when you were born."
Before we could move beyond this particular station, we were patted down. At the next station, we had to give them all our pertinent information and we got an ID number in return.
At the third station, one of the guards unlocked my handcuffs and told me to deposit my clothes into the clothes basket. I knew this part was coming, but didn't realize it would be in the middle of all these people. I took the county jail issued orange top off, slid the simple white tennis shoes off my feet, and dropped the orange pants to the floor leaving me in white briefs.
I hesitated briefly looking up at the guard. He was tired of waiting and ripped them down my legs, "I don't have time to be fucking around, Smith. Now, open your mouth."
The guard checked my mouth with a small pin light, making me raise my tongue. He then ran his hands through my hair checking for whatever you can hide there.
"Place both hands flat on the table and put each foot on the red tape," he ordered. This spaced my feet out at around three feet.
He spread my ass cheeks and ran a figure down the crack and underneath to the bottom of my nut sack.
"Follow me," the guard ordered. Naked, I followed him into a small room with a single table. Once inside with the door shut and locked he said, "Everyone here knows who you are and what you did. I have three daughters and had you done what you did to them, you would be dead by now. But instead, I will help make your life miserable."
He stepped up to me, backing me into the wall. He grabbed by cock and balls and began messaging them, "How many times did you fondle one of those girls like this? Is the first time a man has ever touched you?"
I said nothing.
"How many times did they cry?" he continued as he leaned forward and planted a kiss on my lips, "Kiss me back you fagot," he demanded.
It was my first time to kiss another man. He brutally forced his tongue into my mouth, slobbering all over the place, "Get on your knees; I'm sure you know what to do next."
I sank to my knees and slowly unzipped his uniform pants. I reached into his underwear and pulled out his throbbing cock. It looked to be around 5 inches. I tentatively opened my mouth and put just the head of his cock in. But he was having none of it, slamming his cock all the way to the hilt. Thankfully, he wasn't too big but it wasn't small enough to keep from going into throat. I thought I was going to pass out. I couldn't breathe!
