The Mule (closed for LitShark)

The Mule


Tricia Wells lazily hung from the bars confining her in her narrow prison cell. Her skin glistened with sweat, the summer heat filled D-Wing. The old fans in the warehouse windows circulated the air but did little to keep the inmates cool, and the women were becoming restless.

She gazed into the other cells, but saw nothing but other inmates trying to beat the heat and a few guards making their rounds.

The blonde stepped away from the bars and twisted on the faucet in her cell, splashing lukewarm water onto her face and massaging her neck,. At some point, they would be let out into the yard for some fresh air, and the first chance she got, Tricia would hit the showers. But either of those releases were still hours away. So the blonde waited impatiently in her cage.

There was still a lot that Darryl didn’t quite understand about his new life as a guard in a women’s penitentiary, as from what he’d seen so far, the whole operation was full of dozens of chiefs and almost no Indians. Everyone, aside from the prisoners of course, seemed dead-set certain that they were the one calling the shots—a hostile work environment was putting it lightly.

But, even in an environment like this, there were opportunities to be had. With everyone dogpiling on top of one another to prove that they were running the show, no one was playing the angles in between. Let the dogs eat each other, Darryl intended to walk away with the bone.

As he pinned his badge onto his new uniform, Darryl felt a swell of pride—it was finally happening for him. He was an officer. Granted, it wasn’t how he’d hoped it would be, but things in life seldom were. Over his regulation uniform, he strapped himself into his own, personal Tac-vest and holstered his Beretta beside his tazer in his gunbelt. The final detail, his beloved mirrored sunglasses went on last before he checked his reflection, freshly shaven and hair freshly cut.

He had to admit, he cut a striking figure as he left the locker room to begin his first shift on D-Wing. He made sure to make an impression with each inmate, taking his time with his rounds, dragging the heavy metal end of his Maglite across the bars as he walked the block. Letting each inmate get a good look at him. He said nothing as he made his rounds, instead gauging their reactions to him from behind expressionless shades. Some tried to flirt, whooping and gyrating like beasts in heat, others reacted angrily, spitting or cursing, but there was only one inmate that Darryl really wanted to meet.

“Well, well, Tricia Wells—” Darryl taunted before even coming into sight from the inside of her cell, clanging the hilt of his Maglite against the metal bar as he stepped into view, “your reputation precedes you, you know. They say you can suck the chrome off a trailer hitch, that you’ll fuck a mule for the right price—but me, I don’t listen to rumors. Though I’ll admit, I was curious to meet you.”

Once he was front and center, Darryl sheathed his Maglite and leaned on his forearms against the metal crossbeams of her cell door. He spread his legs out, leaning heavier on the bars, lowering his glasses so that she could see him looking her over.

“It’s a shame, really. A fine piece of ass like you getting pounded into hamburger on the yard, just to line the pockets of some smug shithead who’s already stolen more than you could have even seen…” Darryl taunted her, but there was a hint of mirth, a playful seduction in his tone, “I’m the newest guard here, Darryl, but you can call me Daddy. But only you. I think we can help one another Tricia… one hand washes the other. But you need to know, I’m in charge of you—if you can agree to that, I’ll see you with the rest of them bowing at your feet.”

The sadistic smile on Darryl’s face grew wider, he slid off his shades and hung them from one of the pockets on his thick, tac vest.

“Come closer, let Daddy get a look at you.”

Tricia turned away from the sink, giving Daddy a look at her lanky body in her tight white top and baggy orange pants hanging low on her waist. She was slick with sweat and even with the grime of prison on her, she was drop dead gorgeous.

Daddy's attitude did nothing to calm her, or warm her up to him. Men often tried to play the same card with her, hoping to win her approval or ingratiate themselves to her, in the hope of getting a shot at sleeping with her. Other male guards she had encountered had done the same thing, but Tricia could sense something more to him. Not an unfocused desire to fuck, but a plan that he had formulated. Something more than just taking care of his baser urges.

"You shouldn't be listening to rumors anyway" Tricia responded, keeping her distance from the bars. "You think you know all about me, thanks to a file and rumors. But what about you? Who are you? And what is this golden opportunity you think I won't be able to refuse?"

Darryl just smirked at Trisha’s attempts to tease him through the bars of the cell door, she was good. It almost felt like he needed her more than she needed him, except that he knew better and wasn’t likely to forget it. He casually removed his mirrored sunglasses and tucked them into one of the pockets on his vest, sharing space with a flashbang grenade.

“I never said I believed the rumors, just that I’d heard them. That’s why I came by here, to see the truth for myself…” Darryl smiled, using his thumb to wipe the corner of his mouth seductively, “I mean, I could approach some other inmate with this, but it’d be a shame for you, to keep wasting your… assets getting beaten to a pulp and fucked to bits, all for the sake of someone else. I really think that a body like yours could be put to better use.”

Shifting his weight in his heavy, lacquered black boots below him.

“See, I’m willing to bet that most of those sick, rich fucks who pay big bucks to watch inmates beat the shit out of each other, also want to bet big bucks on who will win. I’ll also bet that none of them sees your… potential, like I do,” Darryl smirked, his deep voice echoing within the concrete cell, “I could train you, teach you to beat a bitch three times your size without even smudging that contraband makeup you got on your face.

“But most of all, I could get you started on an enterprise of your own, that could keep you in Ramen flavor packets and Cheetos from commissary until you’re ready to parole out. Not to mention a nice little retirement from crime package. A nest egg, if you will.”

"It's going to take a lot more than Cheetos and Ramen to entice me and my body." Tricia answered. She caught her reflection in his mirrored sunglasses and remembered how men would once fall over themselves to get her attention. "You know where I'm from, you know I'm used to the finer things. The kind of things a man like you would have trouble finding. But I suppose I can give you a chance to surprise me."

She approached the bars, keeping her eyes on his. "Tell me about this enterprise of yours. What's the product? And you'd better not say me."

Darryl sighed and rolled his eyes behind his dark glasses as Tricia refused to see the forest for the trees.

"I'm talking about cash, Tricia--in your commissary where it can actually do you some good. As for remnants of your previous life's opulence, I'm the one who can help you out with special privileges or allowed contraband. But if you want to act like it's you giving me a chance, I could just as easily make your life a living hell."

Leaning back from the bars, Darryl crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm talking about leveling these walls, making the inside just as fucked up and full of opportunities as the outside. I'm talking about drugs, Tricia. Cocaine and heroin, big ticket items only. A cash business, since cash doesn't do you girls much good in there, I'm sure some of your contemporaries would be eager to buy. I'd launder your cut into your commissary, and wherever the fuck else you think some scratch could do you good. Once we corner the junkies' market, we could become the premier source for all sorts of contraband, and the assurance to be able to keep it. Am I starting to make sense, or should I go approach someone more receptive with this offer?"

Tricia nodded. "A girl needs more than just commissary and coke. I'll let you handle the drugs, but we keep 10% of the supply line open for other items, things I can sell on the side. Do we have a deal?"

Darryl smirked at Tricia’s counter-offer, he had no real problem with helping her to smuggle cigarettes, makeup or whatever the hell else these inmates wanted brought in from the outside as long as the secret of their arrangement was kept—but he still needed to be able to trust her, and for that, he’d need to get closer to her literally and figuratively before he got too into specifics or accepted any counter offers she had.

“Roll on six!” Darryl called out to the cell block warden.

“It’s almost time to let them all out anyway,” the block warden called back, confused.

“Inmate Wells needs help in her cell, you can close it up after me,” Darryl called back.

There came a loud, invasive buzzing sound and the heavy, metal cell door rolled open on its track. When it did, Darryl entered her cell, imposing his size on her as he backed her away from the open cell door. He moved closer until she was close enough for him to slip his fingers past her hips into the hem of her orange prison pants, he tugged her closer by the hem of her pants.

“I can live with your terms, but I have one more condition. If I’m going to go into business with you, I need to be able to trust you,” Daddy muttered, his head canting to one side, bringing his mouth closer to her ear as the door buzzed again and the cell door rolled shut again, “do you think you could make me trust you? Can you be loyal to me, in spite of your other entanglements? Show me that I can trust you and I will.”

Daddy’s hands moved over the firm, moist flesh of Tricia’s hips, moving inside of her pants now and gripping her ass cheeks in both of his large, powerful hands. He tugged her closer again by her ass, so that she could now feel his impressive cock growing harder down the leg of his uniform slacks.

“I want you, Tricia. Tell me you want me too… then show me.”

Tricia began touching Darryl as their bodies pressed closer together. "How far can you trust someone you're keeping prisoner?" She began kissing his neck and the side of his face, her breasts brushing against his barrel chest. "That's why you want to make sure that I get a good cut of the action, that way I can't squeal on you without implicating myself. Besides, it's not the guards I'm worried about, it's the other inmates. If they find out I'm the source, my life will be in danger. So I need to know if I can trust you."

She slipped her orange trousers down, then lifted her top off, standing naked against him. "And you don't just want to know if you can trust me, you want to know if I can please you. Well, in my experience, men have been very pleased with me." She reached out and kissed him.

Darryl smiled into Tricia’s kiss, delving deeper with his tongue, expectantly. It wasn’t a surprise that Tricia seemed willing to give it up on their first encounter, in fact it only confirmed what he’d heard about her from other guards and the rumor mill. But even though he’d been expecting this reaction from her, it didn’t do anything to lessen the intense flood of adrenaline and endorphins that flooded his brain as her slender body writhed against his new, starched uniform.

One large hand trickled up Tricia’s slide until his palm embraced her small, firm breast on her left side, caressing first, and then squeezing harder and harder. His other hand raised up and landed back down on her tight ass with a smack.

“It’s not just pleasure I want from you, believe me. I can find pleasure in plenty of things, even the suffering of others,” Darryl smiled as the kiss broke, his cock hard in his slacks, “what I want to know is if you can handle me.”

Reluctantly, Darryl’s hands left Tricia’s body to unbuckle his belt and toss it through the bars, outside of the cell, best not to leave it lying around—he didn’t trust her that much, yet. Next was the button and zipper of his fly and the next instant, his thick hardness was springing forth, slapping lightly against Tricia’s hip.

“Show me what you got, inmate.”

Tricia eyed the cock sticking out of Darryl's open fly. It was thick and fat like him, beefy and at least a foot long, if not more. It was no secret that he had been imagining this moment with Tricia for a long time. His cock was twitching, his head tilted upwards.

Tricia reached down and began massaging his long, hard shaft with both hands. She stroked slowly as she knelt in front of him, positioning herself so that the cock was staring directly at her. She leaned forward and continued giving Daddy his handjob while wrapping her lips around the head. She tickled and teased his sensitive skin with her tongue before taking the his length into her wide mouth.

Darryl tipped his head back and sighed as Tricia began expertly stroking him with her slender fingers and even groaned a bit when he felt the warm wetness of the inside of her mouth. She really was an expert, it seemed. Instinctively, his right hand came down to rest on the back of her head, feeling her silken hair under his palm and fingertips—not tugging or pushing, just appreciatively along for the ride.

“Yeah, I think this partnership will work out just fine,” Darryl sighed again, this time stating the obvious, “we’ll start with the big-ticket items—coke, heroin—and work our way backwards from there, it’s too much of a risk to just be pedaling dime bags of grass in here.”

As Tricia’s sucking continued, Darryl found himself reflexively jerking forward with his hips, forcing the head of his cock just barely into Tricia’s throat each time she went down, almost challenging her to take more. Daring her to take him into her throat.

“I’ll arrange for you to meet up with my suppliers and we’ll help you hide the product inside your body, something I imagine you’ll be uniquely gifted at, and from there, you’ll smuggle it onto the yard and make the deals. I’ll send likely buyers your way and make sure that the other guards don’t fuck with you while you’re making the deals. OH FUCK, that’s good!”

Darryl lost his train of thought, as Tricia did something unusual with her mouth.

Tricia reached around Daryl's body and clutched his ass with her hands as she sucked him harder. She slowly raked her teeth against his shaft, breathing hot air against him. His skin became more sensitive, he hardened further and had trouble containing himself. Tricia switched back to sucking, dragging her lips against his cock and tasting the precum as the tip withdrew from her mouth.

She opened her mouth again, the white cum at the tip of her tongue, and she began licking the underside of his shaft.

Darryl groaned again as Tricia tended to the sensitive underside of his hard, swollen cock, smearing her own saliva across her face. Yes, she had talent for this kind of work, no surprise there—practice makes perfect, after all. He let his hand rest on the back of her head for a few more minutes, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of having his member serviced by this hot, nude piece of ass. He checked back over his shoulder to make certain that they weren’t being watched. If he were caught doing something like this with an inmate, he’d be fitted for an orange jumpsuit himself.

Legally speaking, inmates were not in a position to give consent, least of all to guards. Any sexual conduct between guard and inmate was considered to be rape in the eyes of the law, even with an eager little whore like Tricia.

“Alright, good work, kid,” Darryl sighed, reluctantly picking Tricia back up to her feet by her hair, “we need to start stretching out these holes of yours before yard time. Bend over, yeah, lay your palms against the walls… good girl.”

Darryl’s voice was soft and unexpectedly reassuring as his palms turned Tricia’s small, firm tits over in his palms, juggling them around like he were playing with two sets of Ben Wa balls in each of his palms. He had to align his cock just by feel, parting her warm, damp pussy lips with the soft, hot head of his cock. When he felt the sweet spot on the tip of his dick, he straightened up, his hips naturally moving forward and in one smooth motion, he was buried inside her, his cockhead pressed against her cervix, already stretching her out.

“Damn that’s tight. We’ve got some work to do, slut,” Darryl smirked, the term clearly one of endearment from his tone.

While his entry had been almost gentle, he was anything but when he began thrusting, his large body slapping audibly against her smaller, firmer body. He was sweating already, the Southern heat had a way of creeping into the prison and the air conditioning was overmatched by the size of the cell blocks. Beads of sweat began raining down onto the floor and Tricia’s back as his body continued to collide with hers, again and again.

Tricia gasped as the cock slammed deep inside her. She had almost injured her jaw trying to take his cock in her mouth, now he was splitting her wide open. She clenched her teeth and gripped the wall as Darryl pumped in and out of her, moving his hips to open her up. She tried her hardest to avoid making noise as his bulk slapped against her smooth legs.

Darryl kept grinding away at her. She was becoming sweaty and hot as the cell heated up.

“Maybe the rumors were exaggerated,” Darryl smirked, his hands gripping Tricia’s hips tightly as her body ricocheted off of him when he collided with her, only to have his strong hands forcibly drag her into his next thrust, “this doesn’t feel like the pussy of someone who’d been fucked by half the county’s Department of Corrections. Maybe I need to find a new ally with a wider pussy.”

It was a bluff, obviously, but Darryl was enjoying the feeling of lording this power over Tricia too much to let on how perfect she was. Her thinly veiled need to win his approval was the leverage that he needed to ensure that things fell his way. As an inmate, she had nothing to lose, but plenty to gain from their partnership and to his knowledge, no one else had a deal like his even to offer.

Darryl leaned into his next several thrusts, not caring if he was hurting her. She’d need to fit at least a half-pound of product in each of her holes. Their timeline didn’t allow for him to be gentle with her.

SMACK!

He slapped her ass hard, she was built like granite, but still had just enough jiggle to let him know that she was real. He decided that he was going to like being a prison guard very much.

“I told you why you need me, tell me why you’re the inmate that I need—cause I’ll tell you, half that yard would fuck me for the opportunity to get contraband in here.”

Tricia let out a brutish grunt as Daddy slapped her ass hard enough to leave a red handprint. Damn this man liked having his ego stroked as much as his cock.

"Because I don't think you'd want to fuck any of them." Tricia answered. "You don't just need a woman to move your shit, you want a hot piece of ass to screw. Oh! Oh!" He was ramming her hard. "And those women in the yard don't fit the bill. You want power, not just from your drug trade, you want vindication for all the women who turned you down. Oh! You want a woman built like me."

Tricia winced as his hard, fat cock drove deep inside her. Maybe psychoanalyzing him wasn't the best move for a woman in her position to make, but she was certain she was right.

"Oh god, oh god..." Tricia moaned.

“Hah!” Darryl scoffed, partially from genuine pleasure and part from the rough impact of his body slamming into Tricia’s smaller, firm frame, “you’re more perceptive than I gave you credit for. I can use perceptive. You’re right, I want a cock-hungry, little fuck-kitten for a partner and you fit the bill.”

Darryl quickened his stroke, becoming less violent and more urgent, needful. He helped himself to another generous feel of her stomach and chest as his arms rose up under her arms to clasp his wide fingers behind her neck, gripping her in a full-nelson headlock, her body stretched across his as he continued to thrust into her.

“I like the way you feel, I like the way you look, I like the way you moan and I like the way you don’t complain. Consider this partnership sealed—”

With that word, Darryl jammed his full length into her and his cock jerked and reared back like a long-necked bird about to throw up. His climax came in a hot gush, the stream wide but still spraying forth with tremendous velocity as if more ought to have been coming but for the smallness of its exit. Glut after glut filled her to overflowing.

“I’ve also got a line on Plan B, in case your birth control is behind schedule. I’ll let you know when it’s time to move the product. Until then, you just keep on making me happy and I’ll be the best partner of your life.”

Darryl's cum trickled down Tricia's inner thighs as the long cock withdrew from her. Tricia, coated in sweat, reached for her sink and began washing Darryl's cum from her body as the din outside began to grow. The cells would open in a minute, and she had to look like everything was normal.

After drying herself off with a wad of toilet paper, she quickly pulled her panties on, then slipped into her scrubs as Darryl zipped up and made sure he was straightened out.

Darryl's hand reached the back of Tricia's neck, waiting for the door to buzz open. He would have to pretend to be rough with her to keep up appearances.

Once he was done with her, Darryl didn’t even speak to Tricia, or pay much attention to what she did. He was more concerned with taking an intensive inventory of everything on his belt and in his pockets. If Tricia had swiped something that could be traced back to him it would mean trouble, if she hurt anyone with anything she got from him it would mean disaster. The stakes were already so high!

Being an inmate, Tricia was not legally authorized to give sexual consent while serving time as a ward of the state, just sticking his cock inside her was enough to earn Darryl a number and a jumpsuit of his own if anyone ever discovered their relationship. Time is toughest for sex offenders and former officers—Darryl was in no hurry to do 25-to-life as both. If it came down to it, Tricia’s life was worth considerably less to him than preserving this secret.

Inmates kill each other all the time.

The commotion from other cells was growing and Darryl needed an excuse for why he was inside an inmate’s cell before first rec, but he knew that Tricia would understand. She liked his power over her anyway. Just before the massive cell doors rolled again in unison, he’d make plans for their next meeting.

“Tonight, after lights out, I’m going to pound some extra space in your asshole tonight, slut. Be clean and ready for me by then,” with his large hand wrapped around the back of her slender neck, Darryl whispered gruffly into Tricia’s ear, finishing just before the deafening buzz echoed across the block and the doors rolled, “get your fucking ass moving, inmate! Think you can spit at me? I’ll fucking work your ass ragged!”

“What’s the problem up there, Newby?” Stan, the block Commander shouted from his central booth over the linked intercom system, “why are you in that inmate’s cell?”

Darryl used the radio from his belt to answer, “Inmate Wells initiated contact and managed to spit at me through the slot in her cell door, I rolled the cell in order to discipline her without realizing that it was time to roll the block.”

Darryl flashed a wink at Tricia before tossing her out of her cell toward the railing as roughly as if she’d been resisting him.

“Eyes on your watch from now on, Rook. You don’t want it to look like you’re loitering in inmate’s cells on your shift. People might start to talk…”