Jailed Young Housewife

The dull fluorescent light flickered on, casting a sickly pallor over the grotesque tableau. Kaylah’s hand moved mechanically, a tender, rhythm up and down her cellmate’s thick shaft, her other hand stroking his heavy testicles with a gentleness born of repeated practice and heavy intoxication.

Her cellmate’s taste—salty and potent—was etched into her brain from this forced oral ritual she performed on him daily to relieve his morning erections. Reggie said he loved her, and day by day her resistance dulled, her mind finding twisted solace with him as she rest atop her jail husband and cellmate, sucking on his huge Black penis.

Reggie groaned, a low rumble of satisfaction, and Kaylah moaned in reply. “Oh… that feel real nice, baby,” he rasped. “Torres must’ve shot you up somethin’ good this mornin’. You really gettin’ into it.”

She had once loathed drugs, yet now looked forward to receiving them. Her tongue swirled over the smooth glans of her cellmate’s enormous penis, a traitor’s dance stoking her own dampness. She lapped up Reggie’s creamy release, quelling his hard-on and deriving a sick comfort from the perverted act.

The scene twisted darker, a grotesque spiral. Well over a month of repeated rapes and isolation while given highly potent and addictive drugs had bent her will, forcing acceptance of her cellmate’s intimate presence. Locked together, alone, their shared physical bond wove a fragile thread—she began to see him as a kindred spirit.

Leaning into his strong embrace, she murmured, “You cum so much, especially mornings…” Her tone wavered, a hesitant tolerance seeping through. “Men peak around twenty… is that how old you said you are?”

“Yeah, that right. I just turned twenty-one, and that felt amazin’, baby. Now you lay back—I wanna taste some sweet pussy again,” he growled, insatiable.

Reggie’s hunger gnawed ceaselessly. Closing her eyes and biting her fist, she sank onto the bed, having surrendered to him and the drugs Torres kept giving to her.

His hands parted her thighs and his tongue sparked unsought sensations—guilt-laced, yet euphoric—flickering through her. “Oh… ah… nah… shouldn’t,” she murmured, her fingers combing through her cellmate’s braids, wanting to both shove him off and latch to him, all at the same time. Images of Steve briefly flashed in her mind—many weeks apart, his safety once her fragile hope.  But her cellmate’s thumb delicately peeled back her clitoral hood with a well-practiced finesse, and her mind drowned in the sensation, Steve fading away, her cellmate chanting to her, “I’m making your pussy feel good… Say it back to me, baby.”

“Ah… ooh…” she moaned, pelvis swaying to her cellmate’s unrelenting, masturbatory rhythm, lost in a tide she couldn’t stem. “Ooh…um…my pussy… you’re making it feel good…ooh…my pussy feels so good…my pussy feels so good,” she began repeating to him in a heavily drugged fog…

Twice daily, Torres intruded—breakfast trays and humiliating probes: “Is she still making you hard? How wet did she get? Is she becoming more cooperative?  How many times did she cum for you?”

Days were an intoxicated blur for Kaylah.  She showered with Reggie always beside her, the surrounding prison walls stark in the steam, then received her morning injection while Reggie watched her get high.

Solitude filled the days, their voices hollow echoes in their isolated cell. She was given additional injections, the drugs seldom allowed to wear off. Torres brought dinner, digging deeper as she lay in their bed dazed out of her mind.

Night cloaked them in touch and sound, the tiny bed their world—  Reggie bringing a warped and growing comfort…

After playing with her clit for a while, Reggie shifted behind her, lifting her leg into his arm’s crook, spooning her with practiced ease. She guided his long, thick shaft into her slickness, a familiar position. “Should stop doing this,” she moaned. “No birth control—pull out before you cum this time.”

“Your pussy feel so good, it sometimes be hard to pull out, baby,” he rasped, straining against his own urge.

Her hand caressed his testicles, a plea in her touch. “I know it feels good, Reggie—but please try to pull out for me before you cum.” Stroking him, she asked, “Ah… ooh… You know why Torres arrested me, but you’ve never told me why he arrested you.”

“Some marijuana,” he grunted.

“Uh… ah… how much?”

“You always be so wet for me, baby—them drugs Torres giving you really mess with you.  Seem like you finally starting to like big Black dick and fucking me. Just 8 grams,” he said, thrusts deepening.

“Ooh… uh…that feels good like that, Reggie. How do you get hard so often? Why would he arrest you for something so… ah… trivial?”

“Cause of you—so beautiful—always make me hard, baby.  He corrupt. Ah… yeah, feel good like that, baby. Keep doing it.  Somethin’ ain’t right ‘bout him…”

“How long… oh… have you been here?”

Her pussy clenched around him.

“You cumin’. Feel your pussy milkin’ my Black bone again,” he growled.

“Ah… oh… yes—I’m cuming… uh… I shouldn’t… with you.  So wrong,” she gasped, shame flooding her climax.

“It feel good, don’t it? Love makin’ you cum for me… Arrested two days ‘fore you got here. I’m ‘bout to cum too,” he rasped.

“Okay… yes, I’m cumming, but pull out now, baby,” she pleaded, breathless.

But her fingers urged him on, stroking his silky scrotum, contradicting her words, making it difficult for him not to stay buried and unload inside her.

“Oh… my pussy… you’re cuming in my pussy again, baby,” she groaned.

“Ah…love you, baby. Can’t hold back—know you don’t want me pullin’ out while you still cumin’. Keep playin’ with my balls.”

“Don’t say you love me,” she cried, fondling him despite her protest, her body exploding against her will. “Hate this—you…ah…oh…oh…make me… Torres keeps…um…uh…drugging me….I want Steve, um…my real husband,” she complained, yearning to escape the irrational, drug-induced euphoria and this lie.

“You in jail with me though, baby,” Reggie growled, withdrawing his wet cock from her depths.

Kaylah’s fingers traced her cellmate’s semen leaking from her pussy, pleasure pulsing against her despair. “You need to stop cuming inside me, baby… I’m going to get pregnant,” she gasped.

“Ain’t happened yet—stop worryin’, baby,” he sneered, arm coiling around her waist, pulling her naked form close, hand kneading her pert breast, sending shivers rippling through her.

“How many women have you had like me?”

“Had? Baby, you mean loved,” he purred.

“Don’t spin this romantic—you’re sick,” she snapped.

“Don’t be mad—I can’t help it, your pussy be so tight ‘round my cock. Not many women, though,” he said, sarcasm lacing his tone.

“That’s not what Torres said. Why do you keep doing this to me?  Why do you let Torres keep drugging me if you really love me like you claim? Can’t you stop him?” she pleaded, trembling.

“You believe him now?” he smirked, mocking.

“I don’t know what to believe—but I know what the two of you keep doing to me. Why?” she pressed, quaking. “You’re both disgusting—forcing me to have sex. You say you love me, yet allow Torres to keep drugging me to turn me into a whore.” She clutched the sheet, desperate to cover herself. “Let me dress.”

“You be liking them drugs Torres be giving you.  Don’t deny it.  You know what would happen if they stopped givin’ them to you now?  You’d be going through it somethin’ nasty.  I’ll be hard again soon—gonna need to love you more,” he leered.

“Please, enough for now—I don’t want you to love me anymore today,” she begged.

“Men got needs. I went a year without pussy, then you showed up as my cellmate—think I’d resist?” he sneered. “You more naive than you look.”

His words sliced through her.

Releasing her from his embrace, he watched as she rose, sheet slipping to reveal her curves. “Have it your way, baby—but I’ll be pealing them clothes off you again soon for some more of that sweet pussy.”

Wiping his semen from her flooded vagina with some toilet tissue, Kaylah dressed—the degrading thong and bra, orange prison uniform— then huddled in the corner, more of Reggie’s cum seeping from her, soaking her panties.

“Why you over there? Don’t wanna be close with me no more?” he asked.

“I don’t want you to love me anymore today,” she trembled. “You’re going to impregnate me.  I haven’t had my birth control since I was arrested.”

“But you so beautiful—perfect body, gorgeous pussy. Can’t resist you, baby—damn, you like candy and keep makin’ me hard. No other bitch ever done that,” he leered.

“Please, stop—I don’t mean to make you hard…” she sobbed, his gaze twisting her gut.

“I know you say that, but your pussy be soakin’ and clenchin’ my cock when we fuck,” he chuckled.

“I don’t like it— doesn’t mean anything,” she cried, unable to reconcile how the drugs Torres kept giving to her and the orgasms Reggie wrenched from her felt good.

“Stop cryin’—ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of. You just confused because you like fuckin’ in spite of not wantin’ to,” he soothed.

“I’m not confused—It’s wrong and I want out of here and away from both of you. How can Torres keep drugging me and keep me with you, and not my husband?” she cried.

They both knew the truth yet Reggie refrained from repeating it to her: Torres’s sick fetish — giving the young housewife potent drugs, turning her into a junkie and preparing her for a life of sex trafficking. “We ain’t in the States—this be a shit-hole country. Laws different here, cops all be corrupt. Somethin’ off ‘bout Torres—but we need to make the best of things, take care of each other and keep each other from goin’ crazy,” he said, low and serious.

Footsteps echoed—Torres approaching with trays, sliding them through the door’s slot, a cunning smile curling his lips. He eyed Kaylah, huddled in the corner, her cellmate’s cum seeping from her vagina and forming a stain between her legs on her uniform. “I see you and Reggie are getting along well, Señora.” he taunted.

She turned away in disgust, her eyes glassy from the addicting injections she kept receiving.

“Are you in a bad mood Mrs. Jordan? Perhaps we need to give you stronger doses to spice things up more for you?  I see your cellmate didn’t pull out this time,” he remarked, observing the damp stain forming on her pants between her legs. I thought you were going to start using the withdrawal method with your partners?” he pressed, smirking.

Her cheeks burned, hands hiding her shame.

“Don’t be upset, Mrs. Jordan. After all, you’ve kept your husband safe. Now that you’ve discovered his inadequacy, you’re naturally growing to appreciate your cellmate.” he sneered.  There will be many other cocks of different sizes you will get to enjoy as part of your duties.

Tears spilled, shame drowning her. “I can’t do this—Steve’s my real husband.  I’m not Reggie’s prison wife. Why are you turning me into a drug addict and whore, keeping me here with him?  I want to be with Steve. I’ll do anything—let me go,” she pleaded, her speech slurred from the narcotics.

Torres turned to Reggie. “I think she fears having a Black child.” He nodded at the tray, voice mocking. “These gringas grow bored easily—she needs to learn something new, and a distraction from possible pregnancy.”

Clutching the prison bars, Kaylah missed the object on the food tray. “Please, don’t leave me here. When will I see Steve again? The consulate?” she begged, voice splintering.

“You will never see the consulate or leave here.  Are you not enjoying the local product we’ve been generously providing to you, and your cellmate’s special company?” Torres smirked.

Disgust crashed over her as she retreated. “No—that’s not true,” she stammered, flushed.

“Learn how to love your cellmate—or your husband pays. Clear?” he warned, menace thick.

She nodded, fear prickling.

“Come now, Señora, don’t be stiff,” he taunted, licking his lips. “Think of your ex-husband.”

Calling Steve her ‘ex-husband’ stung.  Her marriage endured, yet here she was, in a prison cell being condition for a life of drugs and prostitution by a Black man, having no choice in having frequent sex with him.

“He’s been asking about you—misses you,” Torres sneered. “I didn’t tell him how you’ve moved on and were tangled with your Black cellmate, learning your new trade at the very moment he was asking about you. I offered him a deal—if he confesses to the drugs like you did, he’ll see you again. Seems like he’s not as pliable as you—yet.  But I’ll break him—maybe the same way I broke you.”

“Please, no,” she pleaded. “I confessed—you turned me into a drug addict, put me in here with Reggie, turned me into a whore and shattered my marriage. You swore Steve would be spared—why do this to us?”

Reggie palmed the lube Torres had left on his food tray, unseen by Kaylah, as Torres grinned. “Luis is still here—wants a turn with Señor Jordan. Only you learning how to please your cellmate so you’re ready for other partners stops your husband from learning the joys of homosexuality. Clear?”

She nodded, helpless, a puppet to Torres’s whims.  How far she had fallen from her previous life as a demure, middle class woman, once a respectable and faithful Christian housewife.

Torres marched off, footsteps fading, the steel door screeching shut. The dripping faucet plinked, each drop a maddening echo of her captivity.

“Sit with me, baby,” Reggie drawled. “Watchin’ you cry gettin’ me hard again—come practice playin’ with my cock some more.”

His filth slithered over her, dampness instinctively creeping between her legs despite her revulsion—a chaos she couldn’t grasp. “Stop rubbing your penis and making yourself hard,” she snapped, defiant against his growing erection.

“Don’t be shy—I know you like touchin’ it. You my prison wife—accept it,” he pressed.

“I won’t do that with you anymore,” she shot back.

“Get over here ‘fore I spank you!” he barked.  “You need to keep practicing.”

A twisted ache flared in Kaylah.  A part of her she repressed had grown to like playing with her cellmate’s enormous black penis. She marveled at how powerfully and voluminously he always ejaculated for her, magnitudes more than Steve ever did, and imagined how good it must have felt for him. It always rendered a temporary sereneness to him afterwards where he treated her warmly. The interaction brought Kaylah a distorted comfort and escape from this cage. She edged closer, loathing the pull.

Reggie lunged, seizing her wrist, yanking her beside him, forcing her hand to his erection.

“No, stop making me touch it,” she pleaded, tracing his hardening shaft through the thin fabric of his prison uniform.

“We married in here—it okay.” he urged.

“No, you’re not my real husband.”

“You need to face reality.  Whoever you be with will be your husband or boyfriend for now on.  We locked up together and I be your jail husband, baby.  I be trainin’ you.  There be nothing you can do about it.  Reach in my pants—play with my cock more,” he growled.

Her fingers slid inside, curling around his pulsing heat, stroking.

He shoved his pants off, baring himself, and yanked her back to their prison bed as she tried to flee. “Oh no you don’t,” he snapped, peeling her uniform away.

“No… don’t,” she whimpered, exposed under his grip.

“I told you I’d be takin’ these clothes off when I got hard again—you keep firin’ me up,” he rasped.

“You’re always getting hard—what’s wrong with you?” she groaned.

“It be your fault, baby,” he sneered.

Compliance was her bargain—relinquish her body, satisfy him and reclaim her corner of the cell until he became aroused again. His weight crushed her, breath hot on her neck, freedom a lure beyond reach. Her eyes traced his dark, muscled frame, repressing the stir it now roused from her—his cock magnitudes thicker, longer, heavier than her real husband’s, oozing precum, his kneading hands on her breasts all became gnawing pulls toward her cellmate that she tried to deny.

“Lie back—keep playin’ with my cock,” he rasped, straddling her, guiding her hand.

“Please, I can’t… my husband…” she whimpered, pinned beneath him.

“Why you stuck on your ex? How many times we gotta fuck ‘til he don’t matter to you no more?” Reggie growled.

“We’ve fucked too many times—I’m betraying him,” she sobbed, tears streaking.

“Your husband won’t want you no more once he find out how you been tainted and spoiled by a big Black cock, and you know it. You’ll always prefer big Black dick now.  He can’t give it to you.  Embrace it,” Reggie sneered.

“That’s not true,” she snapped.

“You been with anyone ‘sides Steve and me?” Reggie demanded.

“Just Steve,” she whispered, shame stabbing as she stroked her cellmate’s larger, superior Black penis, further betraying her real husband.

“Virgin when you married him?” Reggie pressed.

She nodded, tears brimming—her pride as a Christian shattered.

“You gonna be with lot’s of other men soon.  What make you cum most, baby?” Reggie pushed, changing the subject.

“I’m not really your wife—I don’t like any of the things you do to me, and I don’t want to be a prostitute,” she protested.

“You still full of lies. You my wife while we here and you now a whore—tell me,” he insisted, hand possessive on her breast.

“I’m not and I won’t—This is wrong.  I want you to leave me alone,” she forced out slurring her words.

“People need physical contact.  You takin’ care of that need for me, baby, and I be teachin’ you how to take care of it for other men.  I’m gonna slide my tongue ‘long your folds, rub your clit with my cock.  I know how much you be likin’ them clit massages.  Then I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you scream,” he teased.

“No, I hate all of that—no matter how many times you do those awful things to me,” she cried.

“Too late—I’m decidin’. Somethin’ new—you’ll eventually like it,” he snarled, yanking her hand off his shaft, prying her labia wide with his fingers.

“No… what are you going to do?” she gasped.

“Look how wet you be for me already?” he sneered, sliding his slick glans up and down her slit, then over her clit, fingers splaying her pussy open.

“I can’t help it—stop it,” she mumbled, clawing at him.

“Don’t lie. You love this, baby.  I know how Steve’s dick isn’t big enough for you anymore, can’t touch you the right way.  You tell me all sort of things when Torres shoot you up with strong stuff, puts you high in the clouds and we fuck. Like how your husband can’t massage your clit like I do, because his cock too small, and how much you really like that,” he explained, making her clit stiffen, her moans fueling him.

“Ah… nah… you can’t…” she whimpered, Reggie’s humiliating statements about her husband horrible, yet somehow they had also become true because of what Reggie kept doing to her. Steve’s smaller penis probably could no longer stimulate her enough. But how could she have told Reggie those personal things, even while heavily drugged?  She was powerless, unable to avoid bending further to her cellmate’s will.

He pushed his shaft into her wet slit, then pulled out, shoving her knees to her face, exposing her anus.

“Hold your legs,” he snarled.

“What are you going to do?” she gasped, fear choking her.

“Gonna take your ass—make you mine,” he growled, teeth bared.

“No!”

Sodomy was a sin she despised as a Christian.  Both Torres and Reggie had once forced their fingers in her ass.  Not again! She thrashed, tearing free—just as his palm smashed her face, stars bursting.

“Don’t hit me,” she pleaded, shielding herself, but his blows rained—stomach, face—each a fiery lash, blood on her tongue. The grating of the distant steel door opening down the corridor announced Torres and the orderly approaching with a stronger injection— the nightmare’s cycle continuing…