Shank

Before

I held the letter in my hand, staring at the written words, reciting them in my head.

You captured me. Tortured me. Killed me. Now, it’s your turn to die.

What the fuck?

Some asshole has seriously large balls to send me that threat.

I didn’t take threats. I didn’t have to. I’d just find the person who was pissed off at me, and I’d kill them.

It was that simple.

But, in here, I didn’t have that kind of power, and I was sure they knew that.

Anonymous.

Fucking pussy.

I looked at the envelope. It was stamped; however, the markings were too faint to show where it had been processed. My prison number had even been put on the front. The only thing missing was a return address.

Who the hell could it be?

I’d tortured hundreds of prisoners, and I always made sure they were dead when I was done.

Could I have missed one?

Goddamn it, it could be anyone.

I checked out the note again, hoping it would give me a hint. The handwriting was simple, thin capital letters that could have been written by a male or female.

Whoever it was knew all the things I loved.

The only thing they’d left out was blood.

Coincidence?

Maybe.

Fuck this. If they wanted me, they knew where to find me.

I tore the letter into pieces and dropped it into my toilet. I did the same with the envelope and pissed on the floating paper.

After I flushed, I walked over to the bars and yelled, “Hey,” to catch the guard’s attention.

As he turned around, his hand went down to adjust his balls. “What the fuck do you want, inmate?”

It was the same guard as yesterday, the one who’d taken me to the shower and rammed my mouth like it was an asshole.

The one whose balls I wanted underneath my tongue.

“I need a shower.”

He looked at his watch. “It’s not time.”

I waited for him to glance up, and then I tore off my shirt and dropped it onto the bed of blankets. With his eyes on me, I dipped my face between the narrow space of the bars and began to lick the fucking rod. When I got about a foot down, I rotated to the other side and dragged my tongue back up.

I needed something in my mouth even if it was metal.

And I knew he wanted something around his cock because I watched it harden inside his pants, pressing into the zipper like it was trying to blow its way out.

“I think I can make an exception,” he said.

I tucked my soap underneath my arm and gave him my hands to cuff. Once they were locked around my wrists, he took me into the dark hallway, and we passed the prisoners who were housed in my wing. There were only cells on one side of the walkway, a concrete wall on the other, so we weren’t able to see the other inmates unless we were being escorted somewhere. That didn’t stop us from hearing what went on.

The fucking.

The torture.

The screams.

It felt just like home.

At the end of the hall was a normal-sized bathroom, except inside was only a shower. No tub or curtain, just a head that came out of the wall and a drain in the middle of the floor. It was clogged with short black hairs. I wondered how many ball sacks those pubes had fallen from.

When we showered, a guard normally stood at the door with it ajar, so he could keep an eye on us and the hallway. But, when this guard wanted his cock sucked, he would lock us both inside.

As I heard the click of the metal bolt, I turned around for him to uncuff me. He put the shower on, and then he twisted the key in between my hands and freed them.

I dropped the soap and got onto my knees.

Fuck, I enjoyed this part. My heart pounded at the anticipation of his cock sliding out of his pants.

“You want this dick?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yes.”

He kept his belt on, the one that held his baton and gun, and just unzipped his pants. Through the opening, I saw white briefs. And, through that hole, there was a flash of dark hair before his cock sprang out.

Mmm.

He didn’t have the biggest dick. But, where it lacked in length, it made up for in width.

He gripped the base, leading the crown until it pressed against my cheek. He rubbed it over one, and as he passed my mouth, I licked the pre-cum off the tip.

“Tease me…just like that,” he ordered. “Make me want that fucking mouth of yours.” He circled my other cheek, followed by another quick lick from my tongue. “Stick it out nice and long for me.” With my tongue hanging out of my mouth, he wagged his tip over the center of it, dripping more of his salty pre-cum, until he hissed, “Suck.”

With pleasure, I surrounded his head. The whiff of musk I got told me he was near the end of his shift. I’d tasted him in various stages. Since I usually didn’t have a choice, I had no preference. I liked his dick any way he gave it to me.

As I took my first bob down to his base, I watched him lift the gun out of its holster. He unlatched the safety and pressed the muzzle to the side of my forehead. “You do anything stupid, and I’ll pull the fucking trigger.”

This wasn’t the first time he’d pointed his gun at me.

Each time, I liked it even more.

And, each time, it made me harder for him.

I flattened my tongue, dipping it down into his hair, circling his shaft a few times before lifting toward his crown. Needing more access, I reached inside his pants and cupped his balls, rolling them in my palm.

“Yes,” he moaned. “Take it deep.”

My cock was stabbing into the cheap fucking pants they made us wear, and the fabric scratched at my tip every time my hips shifted. I was losing my shit. All I could think about was making his dick come and how I was going to beat off to the memory of it when I got back to my cell.

I dived down again, and my spit flowed like a goddamn river toward the hand that cupped his balls. I used it to keep my fingers juiced up, so they could slide around his sack. And, now, I had a rhythm, so I sucked as hard as I could. He liked it because he was bleating like a fucking goat.

My free hand went to the bottom of his cock and jerked off that section while I kept my lips focused on the top. With the combination of just enough suction and flicking, he hardened even more.

My moan vibrated across his shaft.

“Fuck this,” he said as he pulled back until his dick popped out of my mouth. “I want your ass.”

Now, those were words I really loved.

As I stood, I dropped my pants and placed my hands flat on the wall.

He moved behind me and said, “Spread your legs.”

The waistband of my pants didn’t allow me to move any further apart, so I took a foot out and widened my stance.

“You done this before?”

I knew what he wanted to hear. “No.”

“Good. It should be nice and tight then.”

He cleared his throat and spit, and I assumed it went to his hand, so he could wipe it over his cock. But then I heard him spit again, and a glob landed on my hole. That motherfucker had some incredible aim.

I glanced over my shoulder to see what was taking so long.

He was stroking away while he looked at my ass. When our eyes finally met, he said, “Do you want me to tell you this isn’t going to hurt?”

We were about the same height, so it didn’t take much maneuvering for his cock to line up with me.

“Nah,” I said, “I want you to hurt me.”

Before I even had a chance to swallow, he jammed his entire dick into me, and I lost my breath. He felt bigger than he had in my mouth. I knew that was impossible; this hole was just tighter. He reared back to his tip and punched forward, his balls slapping against my taint, and then he did it again.

“Harder,” I begged.

It didn’t hurt enough.

It didn’t give me the satisfaction I wanted, and I knew it wouldn’t give me the release I needed.

The only thing that could do that was blood.

“Give me your knife,” I said. “I know you have one in your pocket.”

“What do you want it for?” He didn’t even slow down as he asked.

“I want to cut myself.”

“What?”

Steadying myself with the bottoms of my feet, I lifted my sleeve to show him the top of my shoulder where I’d made the small gashes. “Now, give it to me.”

“You want to cut yourself”—he took a breath—“while I’m in your fucking—”

“Give it to me!” I shouted.

When he finally slapped the knife in my hand, I brought it up to my mouth and held the plastic casing between my teeth while I slid the metal out. Once the blade was fully extended, I held the sharpest point against my biceps and dragged it over my skin. Blood bubbled through the cut and began to drip down my arm and slowly onto the ground.

Fuck, that’s a beautiful sight.

A small pool started to form, and I stared at it, concentrating on the redness while he was inside my ass. I waited for it—for the numbness to start to disintegrate, for the release to move its way through my body.

It wasn’t even close.

Because my blood wasn’t enough.

I needed more.

I took the guard’s hand off my hip and brought it around to the front of me, and I slashed across his palm.

He yanked his hand away and yelled, “Are you fucking stupid?” But his cock didn’t go anywhere; it stayed buried, and his hips continued to move in a fast circle.

“It’s just a cut,” I told him.

“Do you know who the fuck I am? And what I can do to you?”

He was inside my ass. Raw. I had the right to do whatever the hell I wanted.

And I had no intention of stopping.

I reached behind me and grabbed the same hand as before. I rubbed it over mine, so I could get all the blood that was seeping out. Hot stickiness coated my skin, and that was when I knew I’d gotten enough.

I let him go and immediately painted it over my cock.

“You’re a sick motherfucker, you know that?”

I wasn’t sick.

I just had a love for blood.

Now, as I stared at the small puddle on the tiles and at the redness on my dick, I felt something.

And it felt so fucking good.

I wrapped my hand around my dick, and I began to pump.

He was hitting a spot in my ass that I could feel all the way in my stomach, and it was making my balls tighten. It was also making it hard for me to breathe. I tightened my grip and squeezed toward the tip, like I was wringing out my fucking laundry in the sink.

He didn’t tell me he was close to coming. I could just tell by the way he grunted, how his speed picked up, when his nails started digging into my goddamn hips.

I was even louder.

I jerked my hand faster.

I stabbed the wall with my free hand and felt the tips of my short nails starting to bend and break.

Jesus, I was close, too.

When I felt him churning out his orgasm, hissing something unintelligible, I pointed my tip toward the pool, and I prepared to shoot.

There it was.

My release.

Suddenly, every nerve ending was open, and my body was making up for all the years it hadn’t been able to feel.

I could barely keep myself standing, but I had enough energy to steady my aim, and I dropped four streams of cum. They covered the whole width of the blood.

I hadn’t felt this good since I was in my own prison.

The morning before my entire life had changed.

“Get dressed,” the guard barked from behind me. He pulled his cock out, and there was a rustling from his belt and zipper and the noise of the last drips of water as he turned the shower off.

I slipped my leg back inside my pants and lifted them to my waist, and then I turned around.

He was checking out his hand, eventually looking at me with a glare in his eyes. “I should send you to the fucking hole for this and make your life even more miserable than it already is.”

“Who would suck your dick then?”

His teeth clenched. “You think you’re the only inmate in here who sucks my dick?”

I shrugged. “No, but I know I’m the best at it.”

He said nothing, and I knew I’d won.