Have you ever been held in captive solitude… for a prolonged period of time? Not days, not weeks, not months, but years? It can opaque the brightest of faiths. For too long a time I hoped for my return to general population. I prayed, I begged, I even meditated with the sole objective of changing my fate. I prayed to the Good Lord, begged to anyone who’d listen, even sought the power of the inner self. But, as time dictates, I am to go nowhere; I am to stay in place. Stay in this 4 feet wide by 6 feet long solitary cell. It’s dark more times than not. It’s difficult to tell the passing of days; whether it is daytime or nighttime outside, I never fully know. Not that it matters. I sleep when sleepy, eat when not depressed…
One hour a day, at differing times each day, I’m taken outside for a round-about the track. I see no one, just my shadow casted on the floor by either sunlight or a spotlight. That was my life until depression saw it fit to send me a companion. I call him “Candy”. He’s a short little alien-looking something who consoles me when sad, and advises me when I’m unable to keep primordial drives from surfacing. He’s been with me since the day I stopped crossing out “counting-sticks-of-five” on the walls. Twelve hundred and eleven of those sticks before I wrote his name (Candy) on the wall. That’s when he came. Since then things have been very different. Depressing, lonely, but still different.
Candy, with his ugly-toothed-smile and big bright eyes, was sitting on the bed rocking his legs. “No, don’t do it. You can get through this without it”, sang he. I have finally lost it, was my initial reaction; but, having no choice, I welcomed the company. That day we spoke until it was time for my round-about walk. He made me happy. I was finally in the company of someone who didn’t judge me, nor cared where I was, and why. Before I walked out the cell he said, “I’ll be right here when you return. Stay strong and No, don’t do it. You can get through this without it.”
I didn’t really care to ask what he meant. I know what he referenced. For sometime now I have planned an escape. With nothing to lose and a world of peace to gain, why shouldn’t I? He wasn’t go to convince me otherwise.
The walk went as all in the past. Alone and thinking of what should be done.
Candy’s voice was audible throughout the walls of solitary. It bounced around from corner to corner right into my ears. “I know what you will do, I know what you will do. And I tell you, that is something you should not do.” I smiled, at least someone wanted to talk to me, even if trying to dissuade me. He was at the very same spot as when I had left. Still swinging his stubby little legs on the air. He was a rather ugly little thing yet, charming.
I informed him that I had for once decided what to do. That I needed to break-out one way or another. “I know. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll still be here for you”, said he. I laid down to bed, tired from doing nothing. He sat on the corner, closed his eyes and also went to sleep. Hours later when I awakened Candy wasn’t around. It made think it was all but a made up story from delusion, but when I readied myself to carry out the plan. He came out of the corner; only his big bright eyes were visible. He startled me straight.
“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. But do know that I, well, I don’t agree with this you are trying to do”, said Candy.
“Never-mind my business, you said you’d still be here”, said I.
I’ll do as you please, I just don’t agree”, he said.
The cell had double doors. The door to the inside was a normal steel-bars cell door. It was about 4 feet wide, and contained steel bars running from the top to the bottom at about 5 or 6 inches apart. Two bars, one at the top and another at the bottom ran from side to side. At the very bottom there was an opening where food trays were placed through. The door in front of the steel-bar-door was about 2 feet away from the inner door. It was a solid steel door with an eye-opening some 4 feet high from the floor. The opening was about 8 inches wide and 4 inches tall. The door prevented much light from coming in to the cell, as granted guards viewing accessibility to me.
I removed my clothing, turned my back to the barred-door, grabbed a bar with each hand, pulled my legs apart from one another then hinged at the hips to ensure my glory was promptly visible upon opening the “visibility” gate. I heard it squeak open, Candy disappears. For the first time in a very long time a woman’s voice greets me. My heart sank. The plot won’t be as successful with a female guard. I was about to go back into my bed when she asked me not to move. For what was left of my hopes, I obliged.
The female guard walked towards me, ran her hand right down me and said: “But baby, you aren’t even wet.” She left the food on the floor and walked away. Had I any hopes left, it would have been a vastly disappointing. It was the same story the next time the door opened. I spread my legs, grabbed two solid bars running down the length of the door, and leaned forward. It was her again. She walked over, said the very same thing as last time, but this time she ran her fingers down my bottom as well as vulva, and said: “We are getting closer, honey.” She placed my meal on the floor and left.
Candy sat silently next to me. Looking down, sometimes humming, at all times swinging his little stubby legs. He knew I didn’t walk to talk. So we sat there waiting for me to initiate dialog. It must have been a week’s time before I decided to speak, a week before I saw another male guard. When I did, I was ecstatic. Candy smiled and said it was time to carry out that “break-out” I so longed for.
When I heard footsteps that appeared to be coming in my direction, I took position as I had those two previous times. By golly, when the door opened it was that female guard again. This time she didn’t use her fingers, instead she knelt in front of the door, put her face in and licked me through the cell bars. “Mami, you are a wet girl… waiting for me I hope.” She tried to do as good a job as she could using her fingers, her tongue; the closeness of the bars prevented her from shifting her face around for a proper performance, but her fingers in me while her tongue massaged my anus more than made up for the lack of maneuverability. It was more than I had anticipated. As uneventful as it was, it was the most alive I had felt in years. It made me ignore she was a woman. All I cared for was for her return so that she could properly satisfy me.
The immediately ensuing time I did the very same thing. Again, she massage my guilty pleasure with her tongue, fingers and nose, then she asked me to turn around and get on my knees. I was confused by the request. Does she want to talk to me? I asked myself. As I get on my knees and put my hands on the bars she grabs them and pulls me towards her where my face is stuck between the bars. She crossed my hands hugging the bars and handcuffed them each to adjacent bars where I couldn’t move. I was stuck kneeling face first into the bars.
She calls for who is obviously not a guard; whomever he was, he was a large man and not in stature. She slides her hand through the bars, grabs a chunk of my hair and forces my face forward hard against the bars as if wanting to drive it through it. “I like your plentiful naughty secret against my mouth. But I like to watch a mouth handle a man. Open your mouth nice and wide that I want to see you gag on him”, said the female guard.
I opened my mouth and this girthy, large headed, vascular-ly healthy and throbbing thing shoved in making me gag instantaneously. Not only had I never been gagged, but I hadn’t practice in more years than I cared to remember. There was no compassion from these two. She held my face in place, while his hips thrust forward banging onto whatever part of my face stuck outside the bars, as well as banged against the steel bars. The noise of metal upon metal form the door thrashing about screamed throughout solitary.
It was a struggle to breath, but listening to the woman closely talking to my ear invigorated me. “Bad girl in solitary. Is he being bad to you? Do you like the feeling of a mouth filled with a large man? Are you getting wet? Do you like being controlled? Do you like being abused in that pretty little throat of yours? I’m going to watch you inhale and exhale globs of him! I like watching the eyes tear from your inability to handle a mouthful.” On and on she went talking to me.
He pulled out of my mouth just to slap my lips with him. The feeling of it against my lips brought memories of being young and innocent struggling to satisfy my first partner. This was the most alive I had felt in various years. Whether I enjoyed it or not, I didn’t yet know. But I did know that if being captive in solitude had a breath of freedom, this was it. I was finally beginning to feel free, to feel like the walls around me no longer controlled me, but helped me see life.
Between the two, and my scooting over on my knees, the door was opened. The female guard slid on her back between my legs and commenced to tongue all about me. She was dirty about it. She slapped my naughty girl, bit it, fingered it and gently massaged pleasure out of it. I secreted like any grown woman without satisfaction in years would have. “Yeah, let me watch you flow guilty slut.”, she said. It weakened me enough to instantly forget I had a man shoved down my throat. I tried to look down with the corner of my eyes but I couldn’t. The man held my face against the bars banging away. I had not noticed that he had climax until I tried to breathe and swallowed a mouthful. “Keep swallowing. I don’t give a free man that you are choking”, he said in the most of raspy and manly voice I had heard in my life. He shoved his pelvis hard into me, there was no where I could go. The pain on my wrists from the handcuffs was now visible. They were raw-red, not bleeding yet, but soon enough I imagined. A small price to pay for freedom, I thought to myself.
I both consumed his residue, as did I exhale some of it out of my nostrils. “You should see this, honey”, he said to the woman. “This is the lewd type of gagging you like to watch me do.” But she wasn’t going anywhere. She was going at me as if she were the one who hadn’t received a good eating in years. She squeezed my butt cheeks hard and plenty, even held my entirety between her teeth… oh, i imagined the good feel of having a mouthful of woman between the lips.
I came, not once but a few times… and the blockage of my air pipes enhanced every second of it. It was as if I was between life and death seeing “the light” for the very first time in my life. I came on her mouth like the man I still held in my mouth did. When he finally pulled out, globs of him were still caught around his penis, stretching back to my mouth. I gasped for air as if jumping out of the ocean after almost drowning. I inhaled deeply… he looked at me and asked I clean him before he goes. I sucked him nice and well, taking long enough to feel the nuances of his manhood in my mouth that the aggressive thrusts failed to show.
Before they left she gave me quite a hard spanking… as she said, “to remember that there is a new bitch in town”. My days were no longer solitary after that. Candy would heal my delightful wounds before the next encounter came about. I loved the reminder of raw skin. It became my life. Candy would talk to me, tell me that I was a good girl for doing bad things. That he would remain, not go anywhere if just to watch.
The encounters were daily after that. Sometimes she alone, other times a few men took turns making the time in solitary special, but to me, this was my prison break. I was not only alive, but free to feel the taming of a libido that had long ago escaped.