Prison Island Illustrated Prologue Ch. 01

Prison Island Illustrated - Prologue

~Daemon D. Hart~

Copyright © 2022 Daemon D. Hart

Prison Island Illustrated - Prologue is a work of fiction. Any names, places, events, characters and everything else mentioned in the book are the result of the author's imagination, and are purely used for fictitious purposes. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, events and everything else is a pure coincidence.

Gay Erotica/Intended for Mature Audiences Only

This work contains graphic depictions of sexual activities between men, such as unprotected anal sex, rough handling, anal creampie, sloppy seconds, verbal humiliation, and others.

Prison Island Illustrated - Prologue - 1

Francesco woke up to the sound of water running. It was so hard to make sense of anything. At first, he thought he couldn't move his body. Just forcing his eyes open was a drag.

One of the first thing that registered with him was that he was completely naked. Looking around, he understood that he was inside a large shower area, big enough to serve dozens of people. How the hell had he ended up there? As much as he tried to make sense of the haze inside his mind, he came up with nothing. Except that... yeah, he had punched that asshole--

The sound of approaching footsteps startled him. He wasn't alone.

Looking up from his kneeling position, his eyes met a man in his forties dressed in a police uniform. He was holding a black baton in his hand, swinging it dangerously, as if the man was just waiting for an occasion to take it on someone's back.

Francesco tried to pull away as the man touched his chin with the menacing rubber stick. "Before anything crosses that pretty head of yours, I'm asking the questions here. Nod if you're not stupid."

His heart wanted to leap into a race, but everything felt laggy. Francesco nodded while throwing a fearful look at the guard.

"Good, good," the guard praised him. "Now, let's see, how good you are at sucking my stick." He laughed at his own joke.

Francesco hesitated. Was that man for real? He tried to pull away again, but the guard just pushed his baton into his cheek. For now, it was better to go along, while his mind got back its bearings. He touched the stick, feeling its hard texture.

"Come on, come on," the guard egged him on while holding the stick, "lick it good, use your tongue. You have to get good at sucking. You'll need the skill where you're going."

"Get busy with that tongue, boy," the guard barked at him. "You won't like it if you don't lick it good."

Francesco was well aware of the obscene slurping sounds he was making while trying to get the stick wet. The guard had to be a fucking sadist, trying to push the thing to the point of making him gag. What the fuck was that guy all about? Francesco squirmed, trying to bring his thighs together. As he sucked, something strange was happening to his body.

At last, the man decided that it was enough and pulled the thing out of Francesco's mouth. Then, he towered over him with a strange expression in his eyes.

His ass would know? The fuck was that supposed to mean. Francesco didn't have to wait long to find out. The guard gestured for him to walk toward the wall. "Put your hands on the wall. Spread your legs. Open those ears, 'cause I don't like to repeat myself."

His pulse was not yet normal, as he pressed his palms against the wet wall. The guard caressed his back with the stick, slowly, insisting on his ass. "Should I give your ass a little caning? Nah, I'm not in the mood. I'd rather do something else to you."

Francesco wanted to know what, but he didn't dare to speak. He trembled slightly as the man brushed his baton against his butt cheeks and then, suddenly, he pressed it against his ass. He inhaled sharply while the man pushed the thing inside. "If it's wet enough, it's going to work," the guard said and laughed again. "Oh, boy, you're taking it. Yes, like this. Fuck, you're a good cunt, aren't you?"

There was no way, no way could he take that, not so much. He grunted and pushed against the wall. Could he try to break free? Make a run for it? But where? There were doors left and right, but Francesco was sure he wouldn't make it, not with how weak his knees were.

The thing moving inside his ass didn't make things any better. Francesco squeezed his eyes shut and grunted. The guard was having a field day, torturing his ass like that. "Please, please," he breathed out, "take it out. It hurts."

"Come on, you're a tough punk," the guard teased him. He pushed a little more, and Francesco keened in distress.

That finally seemed to make the fucking asshole reconsider. Francesco heaved as the guard removed the baton from his ass. Then, the man took him by the shoulders, so gently that it would have been easy to mistake it for something else. Maybe it was over.

"I did what you ask. Now let me go," Francesco begged.

The guard caressed his cheek. "Aww, don't tell me you're crying now. I'm not done with you. No, not by far. I'm doing you a service, you know?"

Francesco didn't know. He had no idea what the fucker was talking about. What other humiliations had the guard in mind for him? He would have to endure it all, for now.

The man probably just wanted to have a laugh. Francesco placed himself on all fours, ass in the air.

"Ah, that's nice," the guard commented in a thick voice. "I see that you know how to present your ass for fucking. Got fucked before? Eh, punk?"

Francesco kept his mouth shut. What was the fucker going on about now? There was no way he would admit to that, to admit to how it felt to have a man's throbbing cock up his ass, making me feel so good that it could drive him nuts.

What? Why? Francesco inhaled sharply as the man knelt between his open legs and slammed something hard and hot right on top of his crack.

As if it would have been possible not to feel that thing. Francesco could feel sweat pooling on the small of his back. The guard was either just trying to tease him, or he was going to do it. There was nowhere for him to run, no possibility. This kind of thing just kept happening to him.

"Let's see how well you open up after trying my stick for size," the man said and laughed. "Oh, it's going so nicely in... Do you like it?"

It was too late. As his ass stretched to accommodate the man's large tool, he forgot himself and let out a moan.

The guard just pushed in a little more.

If he hadn't been so dizzy, he would have put up a fight. As he was now, it was completely useless. And his voice was betraying him, going higher with each inch the guard put inside him. It took him some time to put all that monster cock in, but eventually, he was there.

His moans and the guard's satisfied grunts as he fucked him bounced off the walls and came back at him multiplied. It was just a matter of time until his body betrayed him completely. The guard pulled back suddenly.

"Too bad I can't keep you here long," the guard commented. "It's time to get it, punk."

The man slammed back inside him, hard and fast, making Francesco's knees buckle under him. It didn't matter, though. The guard held him tightly by the hips and bottomed out inside, over and over, making his entire body shake. Francesco squeezed his eyes shut and tried to bite his tongue to stop himself from making all those shameless sounds, but he couldn't stop.

The guard's breath above him grew more and more labored, went in and out sharply. Francesco felt his own cock, half-hard, swinging between his legs.

Thank fuck. The guard stilled and kept him close, the rough fabric of his pants rubbing against Francesco's ass. When he moved, Francesco felt his ass pulsing at the loss, and then the gushing of something hot and liquid pouring down the inside of his thighs.

tbc