Johnny led Timmy through "D"-tier. "D"-tier was a section of the prison claimed, owned and run by a dangerous black prison gang known as The Spooks. Sane white boys stayed away from it if they had a choice. Timmy didn't. Johnny used to have a choice once upon a time, but then he crossed race lines and made a couple of deals he thought would be scores. They weren't; in fact the deals had blown up in his face and now Johnny was indebted to The Spooks; plus no white gangs, or any other gangs for that matter, would have anything to do with Johnny. Johnny thought he was big shits because he was one of the few white boys allowed to come and go through "D"-tier without being taxed and without being in fear of his life. Johnny only looked privileged to the uninformed though. He was actually taxed in a different way and in fear of something he kept telling himself was more important than his life. Johnny ran errands for the leader of The Spooks, a notorious lethal convict by the name of Kong. Most everyone in prison, those doing time as well as the prison staff were afraid of Kong. Kong was serving several life sentences without the possibility of parole. He was deadly and had nothing to lose. Everyone considered Johnny Kong's errand boy. Black convicts, especially The Spooks referred to Johnny as King Kong's Kid. Johnny hated being called anyone's kid because it implied things about him that Johnny didn't appreciate.
Johnny led Timmy to Kong down the prison tier and past all the other convicts with the rope from Timmy's laundry bag tied around Timmy's neck to form a leash. Johnny had used his own laundry bag rope to tie Timmy's hands tied behind his back. Timmy wore only his underwear, briefs and a T-shirt, and both were wet from having been dyed prison pink using Kool-Aid. The T-shirt was also knotted up high just under Timmy's nipples to expose his waist bare. It looked a lot like Timmy was wearing a sport's bra or halter top. Timmy's toenails and fingernails were painted pink from a felt tip magic marker as were his lips. A black Sharpie had been used around his eyes like eyeliner and mascara.
The most embarrassing thing about his entire appearance, though, was his hard-on, small as it was. It was pitching a tent in his wet pink undies and he couldn't hide it because of the way Johnny had bound his wrists. Timmy told himself it was the friction of the material around his joint that caused his erection, a natural reaction to the sensitive area of his body being irritated and stimulated, and this no doubt played a part in his exposed shame. But in his mind, he couldn't deny the arousal he felt from being led down the hall like a piece of meat or some pimp's prostitute as lust hungry hardened convicts checked him out and judged him like he was a fashion model on a catwalk. This along with the idea that he was going to have to service more cocks, big blacks cocks, choice or no choice of his own, was having an unexpected effect on his member. More than one black convict commented on how his little hard on made Timmy look as if he had come down with a case of jungle fever. Why else would it be happening while being paraded like a prison sissy through one of the more notorious black sections of the prison?
Johnny was quick to assure any convict who had anything to say that they were the ones who were going to be catching a fever though, a fever for "this white bitch", meaning Timmy, when they felt what "her" mouth could do for their big black cocks. Johnny was nothing if he wasn't a used car salesman.
"If she's that good, King Kong will probably be keeping her all to himself. Then we'll be needing a different bitch mouth to service us, bitch; maybe yours," one of the black convicts Johnny had delivered his sales pitch to joked back. The convict was only half joking though. Another black convict shared the laugh, and even though Johnny said something lame back in his own defense, it was under his breath and Timmy saw that the blacks didn't really respect Johnny as much as Johnny deluded himself into thinking they did. It was something for Timmy to think about on his continued journey, even if Timmy should have bigger concerns of his own. He was, after all, about to become a fuck toy for at least the leader of a black prison gang if not the entire gang itself.
Kong was an immense beast, a product of long days in the gym enhanced with the addition of human growth hormone smuggled into the prison; at least that was the rumor. His hands had mutated so large they looked as if he could crush a man's skull in one. His shoulders were too wide to enter a jail cell without his turning sideways. Veins covered muscles that were everywhere, places where Timmy didn't think a man could grow muscle. That's what gave Timmy the moment's pause. In actuality, there was only one body part Timmy was really concerned with. That's because he knew he had no choice but to have a close relationship with it sooner or later. He wondered how large that body part actually was. Johnny had told him, it was the size of a boxer's arm from elbow to knuckles with the boxing glove on. He laughed that it packed the same punch as well. He said the last punk Kong skull fucked came away with a broken jaw and once he ass fucked a punk so long and hard without lube that the punk is now forced to wear a colostomy bag the rest of his life. Kong didn't really like punks according to Johnny. He liked bitches. Bitches knew their place and how to treat a man, a real man, a real hard man. Punks had to be broken.
Timmy thought Johnny had been messing with him about the size of Kong's organ but now he wasn't so sure. He also wondered if Johnny considered himself a bitch or a punk in Kong's eyes or if he was deluded enough to think Kong saw him as an equal as far as men and convicts were concerned.
Kong's cell seemed more like a private sanctum to keep others out as opposed to a barred penal cubicle to keep a criminal inside. It certainly didn't look like it was set up for punishment. It was actually four cells all adjacent to one another with the inner bars removed where the cells connected. It was the size of a holding tank only this place had separate toilets and extra bunks. Kong along with his closest associates as well as his top bottom bitches could move between the cells unimpeded. Thick drapes inside the bars afforded privacy from the guards and the other prisoners. With the home entertainment system and other electronic gadgets along with thick comfortable mattresses, rugs and even knick knacks, one might forget they were in a prison cell altogether and think they were in a private home or fancy hotel room.
"Get on your knees, bitch" Johnny ordered Timmy! "You're in the presence of your owner and master."
Timmy started to comply but Kong stopped him.
"That's not necessary, sweetheart." Kong told Timmy. Then he turned to Johnny, "Unless of course you want her on her knees for yourself."
"No, of course not, Mr. Kong," Johnny said startled. "I... I brought her here for you."
"Of course you did. You've probably already tried her mouth out anyway. Or am I mistaken about that?"
"Just so I could determine how good she was... For you!"
"You don't think one of my own guys could have informed me concerning that bit of information?"
"I'm sorry. I thought..."
