How To Rape A Straight Guy (9 page)

That way, if he pulled anything, if he told anybody, he’d go inside, too.  Then I’d make damn sure his balls got cut off an’ jammed up his ass by some big stinkin’ uncut Nazi fucker.  That shut him the fuck up...but he gave me that look, the one that creeped me all over.  I eyed him, right back; neither one of us said anything, but I had the bells ringin’ in my brain, again.  I think he saw my face grabbin’ a wary look, so he just sneered an’ disappeared back up the stairs.

Fuckin’ Wayne.  What the fuck was he up to?  Were both these cameras really connected to his bedroom TV so he could watch?  Was he gonna direct this thing from his little “safe” room like you do some TV game show?  “Fuck the boy for a prize?”  Or was he plannin’ somethin’ even kinkier?  I couldn’t tell, an’ that made me worry.

But then I noticed it was six an’ Lenny was callin’ the guy up to get his details.  Short dark hair -- good.  Blue eyes -- don’t remember what color Anthony’s were.  Frat boy -- right look.  Lifts weights, but not too much ‘cause he don’t want his muscles to get too tight -- he’d still be easy to handle.  His girlfriend’s out of town an’ that’s why he’s horny.  Total bullshit, but Lenny swallowed it whole an’ gave the stud his address.

“He’ll be here in an hour,” he said as he hung up.  He was almost gigglin’, he was so into it.

“Get hold of it, Lenny,” I said, “or you’ll fuck it up.  Just remember, I’m doin’ the job; you’re runnin’ the camera.  That’s all till I’m done.  Got it?”

He nodded like a monkey in heat, again.  An’ just a little too quick.

Lenny an’ Wayne, there’s somethin’ about those two, the way they fit each other just a little too perfect, that made me want to call the whole thing off, all of a sudden.  I could tell I’m not gettin’ the whole picture, here, but it was too late, now; the “stud” was on his way.

Thing is, I got to admit, I -- shit, I started feelin’ -- I dunno...ready for it.  I got kind of horny just thinkin’ ‘bout what I was gonna do to this “rich little college kid” fake fuck.  Like I...shit, I missed doin’ what I did in prison.  It was gonna be just like old times, but this time I’d have somethin’ to keep his hands out of the fuckin’ way.  Make it easier to take total control.

I only had that once, before -- havin’ a guy tied up so he couldn’t fight back.  But it was, like, a kick-ass feelin’, to the nine-hundredth power.  It was when I got a guard at Mid-State.  A fuckin’ prison guard asshole.  “Literally,” like Lenny’d say.  Man, that made me feel like I was king of the world.

It happened a week ‘fore I was set to go up for a parole hearin’.  This overbuilt piece of raw beef in blue had started givin’ me shit every time I turned around.  His name was Carter an’ he was a ten-year military cop vet with this pug-Irish face that made you think of an IRA terrorist.  He’d ignored me the two years he worked while I was in, but suddenly he was makin’ up for lost time.  If my cell wasn’t in perfect order, he’d trash it an’ make me clean it all up.  If my shoes weren’t tied, he’d spit on ‘em an’ make me polish ‘em with my shirt.  Then he’d bust my balls for wearin’ a dirty uniform.  If I looked at him wrong, I had to stand at attention an’ listen to him bitch for half an hour, usin’ words I’d never even heard before.  An’ his guard buddies help him when he needed it.  Or just wanted it.

‘Course, I got what was goin’ on; he wanted me to make a move on him so he could fuck up my parole.  I just didn’t get why.  So I figured I’d find out.

First I started actin’ like he was gettin’ to me, makin’ me afraid of him.  Wasn’t hard to do.  Just hunched my shoulders a bit when he came by an’ looked away, real quick.  Give a little jump when I see him.  Swallow hard.  All that bullshit stuff.  So he started gettin’ nastier.  Started thinkin’ like he “knew” I wouldn’t fight back, like I was scared of him.  An’ he started gettin’ stupid an’ sloppy about it.  After a couple days of that, he was ready to take down.  So I made arrangements with a couple of my pack to decoy him into the laundry room ‘cause he’d give them some shit, too.  Y’know, that’s where I was still workin’, after six fuckin’ years!  An’ Connie wondered why she couldn’t get me to do laundry.  Anyhow, they had a good idea what I was up to, so they were on board from the get-go.

So ‘bout ten a-m, when all the machines were goin’, I hid between two of ‘em.  Sort of a wide space between two packs of washers.  Lots of guys slip in there to take care of each other or themselves, but my pack made sure the place stayed clear for me.  They waited till the machines were doin’ the spin, which gets real loud, then one of ‘em told him I was in the back gettin’ sucked off by my punk of the month.  Ol’ Carter -- big, dumb, blond, full-of-himself Carter -- he hustled back there to catch me an’ do his number.

Soon as he rounded this corner, he was out of sight of the other guards.  That’s when I grabbed him, put my little shiv against his throat an’ made him come with me way behind the last machine.  He was shittin’ bricks, lemme tell you, whisperin’ the whole way, “C’mon, man, you don’t wanna fuck up your parole.  You don’t wanna do that.”  What he didn’t get is, I’d learned not to care.  You let a fuckin’ pig pull shit on you an’ get away with it, you lose all the respect you built up inside.  An’ no fuckin’ way was that gonna happen to me.

I slammed his face into this corner an’ held him there.  Man, I had a hard-on like you wouldn’t believe, an’ I was pushin’ it hard against his ass to let him know what I was gonna do.  An’ he was freakin’, I can tell you.  I don’t think he really thought I’d do it, ‘cause he kept up his bullshit.

“Man, this is stupid.  This is stupid.  You’re already in deep shit.  You don’t want to add ten years to your sentence!”

I slammed him against the corner, again, an’ snarled in his ear, “Why you fuckin’ with me, man?”

“I ain’t,” he said, whimperin’.

“Bullshit!  You been on my ass all week.  Who’s got you gunnin’ for me?”

“Nobody!”

I reached ‘round an’ grabbed his crotch.  Squeezed it.  He gasped, but I had him so tight an’ the shiv so sharp against him, he didn’t dare yell.  “Don’t fuckin’ lie to me, cunt!  I’ll cut your fuckin’ balls off!”

He squirmed then finally croaked out, “Buddy of mine.  He told me you...you got his nephew.  When he was in your cell.  Fucked the kid.  Fucked him up.  He wants you to stay in.”

“What d’you mean I fucked him up?”

“He -- he tried to kill himself.  He’s on tranq’s.  Twenty-four-hour suicide watch.”

“No shit?”

“Yeah.  I knew him.  He was a good kid, just a little fucked up from drugs.  Didn’t belong in here.  Never should have been sent here.  And now...“

“An’ it’s me fucked him up, huh?”

He nodded.  I fuckin’ loved it!  Really fuckin’ loved the idea that I’d messed up some rich-bitch little pansy’s life so much that mommy an’ daddy had to shell out some of their big bucks to put him back together.  I mean, twenty-four-seven care ain’t cheap, even if you got insurance.  An’ I bet I knew which punk it was, too -- that first one I hammered in the ass an’ got to shoot his wad.  He was roistered out ‘fore Carter transferred in.  I almost came in my pants thinkin’ ‘bout it.

So fuckin’ Carter thought he’d punish for it.  Stupid motherfuckin’ Carter was gonna make me pay for doin’ somethin’ that he let happen a dozen times a day to other people’s sons.  An’ nephews.  An’ fathers.  An’ husbands.  An’ shit.  Man, I had to smile at that.  Fuckin’ hypocrite.  He deserved anything I did to him.

I took my hand off his crotch but kept the shiv tight against his throat.  He was shiverin’.  I could feel him.  I think he was more scared of me bein’ quiet than of anything else’d happened, so far.  He was smart to be.

I pulled a strip from a towel I’d shredded out of my pocket an’ whispered to him, “Put your hands behind you.”

He jolted an’ asked me, “Why?”

I dug the shiv into his neck, just enough to cut him.  He gasped then did as I said.  I used the strip to tie his wrists together.  Twice around.  Good an’ knotted.  Got ‘em so tight he grunted from the pain.  Then I turned him ‘round to face me.  I was still smilin’ -- an’ that scared him more than anything.  Fuckin’ shit.  A fuckin’ guard was shakin’ ‘cause of me.  This was gonna be great.  I crushed him against the corner an’ whispered, “How ‘bout I show ya what I did to your buddy’s nephew?”

“What?”  But then it hit him an’ he shook his head an’ choked out a, “No.”

I pressed harder against him.  Held him tight against the brick.  Ground my dick into his crotch.  An’ grinned wider.  Then I unbuckled his belt.  He jolted an’ tried to squirm away, so I slammed him to the floor.  He landed hard, but he was still able to cry out.  He started to scream loud enough he might’ve been heard over the noise of the machines, so I yanked off my tee-shirt an’ jammed it into his mouth.  Hard.  Almost down his throat.  He gagged an’ tried to kick me, so I pulled his pants down to his ankles an’ pulled his belt tight around ‘em.  Then I pulled my tee-shirt out of his mouth -- didn’t want him to choke to death -- and used it as a gag on him.  Now he was too tied down to do me much damage.  He still bucked an’ tried to yell, but the noise from the washers an’ dryers an’ the gag kept anybody from hearin’ him.  I stood up watched the little pig squirm, lovin’ it.

His boxers were still pretty much on, so I straddled his chest an’ ripped ‘em off him.  He was uncut, the fuck, but I wasn’t gonna back down, not by that point; I was just gonna hurt him, even more.

I turned an’ now was straddlin’ his belly, watchin’ him try to spit out my shirt an’ look around for help an’ shake his head, no.  I slid my zipper down, slow.  Tauntin’ him.  Then I dug inside an’ pulled out my dick.  Man, I was hard as a rock.  I rubbed it against his face.  He shook his head like he was gonna go nuts.  I almost laughed.

“This is goin’ up your ass, bitch,” I said, “an’ you’re gonna love it.  That’s what fucked up your buddy’s cunt of a nephew -- me showin’ him how much he liked havin’ my thick dick up his sweet little ass.”

Carter tried to scream, so I slapped him.  Hard.  Twice.  He started cryin’.  I pulled my shirt down from his mouth to around his neck an’ twisted it tight.  He gasped for air but could still breathe, just not enough to yell.  I held it there with my left hand as I unbuttoned his shirt with my right.

He had big pecs, hairless an’ smooth, an’ his abs were as soft an’ smooth as Connie’s.  Surprised me.  I figured he’d have something like the six-packs you see these iron-junkies always goin’ for.  Not that I gave a shit about how he looked.

He just gasped an’ shook his head an’ muttered, “No, God, please,” over an’ over.  I twisted my shirt a little tighter to shut him up.  Then I shifted around, pulled his legs up an’ slipped between ‘em an’ lubed myself with some spit.  Before he could even think about it, I’d rammed my dick deep into him.

He tried to scream, but I had my shirt twisted too tight ‘round his throat, so he just choked.  When I was all the way in him, I let it loose a little.  Didn’t want him hurlin’ on me or drownin’ in his own puke.  Then I pumped into him, long an’ slow an’ hard.  An’ I played with his ass.  An’ I stroked his belly.  An’ I sucked on his tits.  An’ I told myself I was back with Connie, fuckin’ her an’ suckin’ on her tits an’ rubbin’ her belly like I always had.  An’ finally came the fun part -- he started gettin’ hard.  Soon you couldn’t tell he wasn’t cut, an’ just to prove how much he was my bitch, I let go of my shirt, kept lickin’ his tits an’ stroking his abs, an’ made my other hand circle his dick, an’ I began pullin’ on it.

He froze, like he couldn’t believe what was happenin’, then he said, “What th’ fuck’re you doin’?”

I twisted the shirt tight, again, an’ kept pullin’ on his dick.  He got harder an’ harder, an’ I sneered as he tried to squirm away from me.  I was close to comin’, so I slowed down my action an’ pulled harder on his dick.  Even spit in my hand to make the pullin’ smoother.  I wanted this fucker to taste his own shit.

After a couple minutes, I was close to firin’ into him, an’ I was wonderin’ if he ever was gonna shoot.  He was fightin’ me, like you wouldn’t believe -- shakin’ his head an’ tryin’ to twist away from my hand an’ kickin’.  But he couldn’t do much; each time he got too crazy, I just squeezed his dick hard, like I was gonna tear it off, an’ he’d freeze an’ let me keep goin’.  A couple times he tried to crush me with his legs, but he couldn’t get any leverage an’ besides, I was too solid built for that to work.  I kept pumpin’.  An’ pumpin’.  An’ pumpin’.  Then just as I was figurin’ he’s never gonna blow an’ I should just let myself finish, he began to buck an’ gasp.  An’ his ass clinched so tight around my dick, I couldn’t wait anymore; I plowed deep into him an’ let loose.

Man...it was scary how good it felt.  Just like when I did it the first time to that rich pansy punk’s ass.  Carter kept fightin’ me the whole time, even as I kept plowin’ my load into him, an’ that made it so...much...better.  But it wasn’t till I was done an’ had pulled out that I realized he’d cum, too.  Not much.  Just a dribble of sticky stuff leakin’ from his dick.  But it was enough for me to smear his face with an’ tell him, “That’s your cum, bitch.”

He gagged an’ balled up into this little knot an’ started sobbin’ as he tried to hide his face an’ his dick from me.  I cut free his hands an’ stood up, even though I was still weak in the knees.  He whipped his arms around to cover himself, still sobbin’.  I watched him...an’ I felt this really weird urge.  This one’d been so fuckin’ good, I knew I could’ve done it, again, if I’d wanted to.  Put him on his belly, this time.  Just do it for me an’ fuck even tryin’ to get him off.  I really thought about it, but then I figured, naw, it’d be too much like sex.

I grabbed the torn boxers an’ used ‘em to wipe off with.  Then I tucked ‘em into my pants -- to throw away later; don’t want to leave evidence like that behind -- pulled on my tee-shirt an’ walked away.  Didn’t say a word, just left him there.  If he said anything, I could say he’d made me fuck him.  That’s why he was pullin’ all his shit -- to scare me into givin’ him my dick.  An’ I had lots of witnesses to back up how hard he’d been on me.  At best, it’d be his word against mine, even with the bruises on his wrists.  But I knew he wouldn’t tell nobody.  He was too fuckin’ ashamed of what’d happened.