By Robmacz

Shortly after leaving Tom at the Penitentiary, Chris had driven 10 or 15 miles down the road, where he found a post office sitting forlornly on the main street of a tiny rural town.  He jumped out and put the envelope containing the four choices and addressed to Tom at the prison into the box by the car park.  Chris breathed a sigh. There was no way back from this now. His fate was in the hands of Tom. In eight months time he would either be a free man or he would be walking through the gates of the prison he had just left. However much he thought about it, he didn’t know which option Tom would choose. He didn’t think he would choose option A, unless of course he had hooked up with someone inside. But any of the other three options was possible.

Chris had already decided that while he waited to find out his fate he would try to live his life as normal. The only stipulation that his special friend had made was that he should not be away from home for more than a few days, as he would need to keep an eye on his mail, because any order to report would give him no more than two weeks notice.

Chris decided that he would take a holiday almost immediately. He after all had until the end of September for Tom’s letter to be opened and he imagined that his special friend would want to keep him on the edge of suspense for some time. So as soon as he arrived home he was packing his suitcase for a trip to Barbados for three weeks in one of the top hotels there. He knew it might be the last time that he would get to enjoy this kind of experience, so he made sure to pay for the best of everything. Chris found the trip to be everything that he had paid for, the best room, the best food, the best wines. He enjoyed the laid back atmosphere of the island, the shops, the bars and restaurants. He loved the private beach with white sands. He even managed to entice one of the hotel waiters back to his room. But there was something missing, something wrong. Was it the thought at the back of his mind that he would soon be in prison? Or was it the knowledge that what he really wanted was to be with Tom?

Chris arrived home having enjoyed his holiday up to a point, but feeling unfulfilled. He tried to get on with his daily life, but given that this was essentially built around enjoying himself he found it difficult. Very soon, his day revolved around receiving the post. He would wait patiently at the window in his condo, which looked out over the main entrance to the building. As soon as the mail had been delivered and the postman had driven away he would run down to get his mail from the doorman.  Most mornings there was nothing at all for him, not surprising given that most of his correspondence was now via email. Occasionally there would be a letter in a plain white envelope. He would open it with trepidation, only to find it was a letter from a charity or a circular from some organisation or other.

Once the post had been delivered Chris would leave the building, never really venturing far. On one occasion he found himself being tailed by a police car, and when the flashing lights came on he wondered whether his special friend had arranged for him to be arrested in the street rather than having to surrender. Chris’s heart was in his mouth and his dick was at full attention as the cop walked up to his car window. The cop was hot and the sun was glinting off the handcuffs that hung from his utility belt. Handcuffs for me? he wondered.  But the cop just wanted to let him know that his left brake light wasn’t working and that he should get it fixed. Chris breathed a sigh of relief, or was it a sigh of frustration?

The weeks came and went and still there was nothing in the post. Chris didn’t know whether Tom had spared him prison or whether he was being tormented by his special friend. He could not complain. He was the one who had thought up the game and the one who made the rules that he was now tormented by. All he could think about now was prison.

The run up to Christmas had a good deal more post, but they were mainly Christmas cards from people he had long since forgotten or had any interest in. But still no letter from the US Marshals Service. Christmas came and went as did January and February. Chris started to think of all the things he had planned to do over the previous six months, but he had essentially become a hermit, sitting at home waiting for a letter that he was not sure he would ever receive.

By 16 April Chris knew that there were less than 14 days to go until the end of the month and given that 30 April was the last date he would be taken into prison if he was given the customary notification of at least 14 days. He was now pretty sure that Tom had spared him prison. He did not know whether to be pleased or not. He knew he could not yet call his special friend to confirm. The rules of the game meant he could only make contact after 30 April, but as the days ticked by he knew that there would be no prison for him. He hoped that Tom would forgive him and that they could hook up again. He had felt a special connection with him, a connection that he hadn’t had with anyone else. He hoped too that the experience of prison hadn’t put Tom off prison role play. He looked so hot in cuffs and his jail uniform, he hoped they could at least go back to that role play jail later in the year.

By 27 April Chris was venturing out and about more.  He still checked his mail daily, but he wasn’t sitting looking out the window waiting for it. On this day he had been out to do some shopping and had stopped off for some lunch and a beer. He was feeling much better about himself now that he knew his fate.  He spent his time working out exactly what he would say to Tom. Although Tom might conceivably have chosen option A to stay in prison without him, he felt sure that he wouldn’t have done that and that he was now back in the UK, having chosen option B. He decided that once he tracked him down he would fly out there and hopefully be forgiven.

As he returned to his condo Chis ran into Charles and his wife Gloria. They were standing in the foyer with their suitcases, evidently having returned from holiday.

‘Well hello there, not seen you two in a while’, Chris said as he walked in.

‘We’ve been away on a cruise, sailed across the Atlantic and around the Mediterranean, we’ve had a fantastic time,’ Gloria said as she listed all the places they had stopped on the way.

‘Well I’m glad you had a great time’ said Chris as he started to walk away.

‘Hang on’ said Charles who was flicking through his mail. ‘I think there might be a couple of bits of mail for you in this pile. You know it’s not that difficult is it? Mr C Nash in unit 21 is not the same as Mr C Ness in unit 12.  We must have a dyslexic doorman!’

“Or senile,” Gloria said, lowering her voice so the man wouldn’t hear. “The Christmas tip doesn’t help anymore.”

Chris’s mouth dropped. Why had he not thought of this before?  Mail had been misdirected before in exactly the same way – not often but it happened. He knew, he just knew, what was coming.

‘I think there are three letters here,’  Charles said as he handed the rumpled bunch of paper to Chris.

Chris quickly looked at them. The first was clearly junk mail, the second, a plain white envelope, probably a circular, but . . . .  The third was clearly marked ‘US Marshals Service’ and dated 3 April. He quickly said his goodbyes to Charles and Gloria.  He couldn’t open this in front of them, but he knew what it contained; it was a question of when. Perhaps the moment had passed and there would be a warrant out for him!

As soon as he was through his own front door, Chris dropped his shopping and the other letters and tore open the one from the US Marshals. The words came thick and fast: ‘sentenced to 25 years’; ‘surrender at 12noon on Tuesday 29 April’; ‘Federal Penitentiary.’ Chris’s heart started to thump; his dick started to throb; he couldn’t help himself from cumming there and then in what was one of the most extreme orgasms he had ever had, with no physical stimulation at all.

He poured himself a whisky. His hands shook as he filled his glass. This was the moment he had been waiting for, not just for the last eight months but for many years. This was his fantasy come true.  But it had come as a complete shock. He sat down in a chair and read the letter again. ’25 years.’ Chris wondered why another five had been added on, though that didn’t really matter at this stage. And the date of surrender was less than 48 hours away. Chris had a lot to do. He needed to get to New York for one thing. He also needed to notify his lawyer. Fortunately, he had already signed a power of attorney, and he had already prepared a letter to send in the event he would go to prison.  He would need to drop that off tomorrow. Chris gathered his thoughts, he decided to take a shower; he needed to clean himself from all the cum that had shot into his briefs.

After his shower, Chris got down to work. He booked himself on a flight to New York leaving at 2pm the following day. He sorted out the letter for his lawyer, which had instructions to liquidate his condo, pay bills, take care of any correspondence and to arrange for $5,000 to be paid to both his cleaning lady and Joseph. He then went to his bedroom and started to think about what he would wear to travel on the following day but more importantly for his surrender to prison. This would be the last chance he got in 25 years to wear decent clothes.

Around 3pm the next day Chris’s plane touched down at LaGuardia airport. He remembered that the last time he had been here was when he came to watch Tom cuffed and shackled and on his way to prison. Chris found it so horny watching Tom like that, and he wondered if Tom had found it horny being chained up and turned into cargo.  But actually, he was sure he knew the answer to that.

Chris hired a car for the drive up to the prison.  There was a motel near the town where he had mailed the letter, and he’d booked to stay the night there. He got on the road and fortunately missed the worst of the traffic heading out of the city.  In under three hours he was pulling up to the Welcome Inn. After checking in he took a shower and headed out for the last evening meal as a free man. He found a place down the road and ordered the steak and the most expensive bottle of wine.  He then headed back to his room to prepare for what could well turn out to be the most intense day of his life.

Chris hardly slept at all that night. He eventually dozed off in the early hours but was awake again before the alarm was due to go off at 8. Once he was up he showered and took out the last normal set of clothes he would wear for the next 25 years. A crisp white shirt, suitable for business, but button cuff – he didn’t see any point in bringing cufflinks. Khaki coloured chinos, black CK briefs, khaki socks and a brown leather jacket, which had been his favourite for many years now. He got dressed and checked out of the place before 8am and put his bags in his car. He drove down the road to a diner he had seen the night before, where he would take his last breakfast. He rejected the idea of breakfast in the motel in case they wanted to usher him out as those places usually did. He thought he could probably stay here for a couple of hours.

Chris found a booth and sat down. A waitress came over with a menu and he ordered coffee. As he looked down the menu he realised there were so many things that he would not taste for years. He was not particularly hungry, but he thought it could be a long day, so he ordered a large cooked breakfast. As he was giving his order to the waitress, the door to the diner opened and four men in dark grey uniforms came in. The grey jackets had a US flag on the shoulder and a badge on the breast pocket. The men weren’t carrying any weapons and didn’t have utility belts, so they weren’t cops, but then it clicked in Chris’s head that they must work at the prison.  After all he was only a few miles away and there was no other town in between. The four officers sat down on stools at the bar and picked up menus. They were laughing and joking. To them it was another day at the office. To the guys like him who were going to surrender today it would be the biggest day in their life.

Chris sat staring at them. Two of them, one of whom seemed to be the leader and had sergeant stripes on his arm, were middle aged and slightly overweight. The other two were much younger, probably no more than 24 or 25. As he was looking over at them one of the younger officers turned on his stool and stood up. Chris noticed he wasn’t wearing a jacket like the others. His powerful arms were only just constrained by the shirt that clung to his muscular body. He was obviously going to the toilet, but he had to pass Chris on the way. Their eyes met briefly, as the waitress brought Chris his coffee.

Chris took his time over his breakfast, he wasn’t really hungry. His stomach was full of butterflies. The officers from the prison were gone within half an hour. Chris watched them closely as they climbed down from their stools and headed out the door. The younger officer who had passed him earlier gave a quick look in his direction, before following his colleagues out.  Soon that kid would be giving Chris orders.

Chris ordered more coffee and stared out the window, knowing that this was his last morning as a free man. He knew what he was getting himself into when he started the game, but did he have any regrets now that the inevitable conclusion neared? A few, but he knew that deep down he wanted this. He wanted to be confined to a cage. He wanted to be treated like an animal, too dangerous to be allowed out in the real world. But he hoped that Tom had decided that he wanted the same thing too. That would make the experience so much better.

By 10.30 Chris had been in the diner for nearly two and a half hours. He thought he had better make a move. He ordered the bill and walked out to his car. He had one more thing to do. Round the back of the diner were a number of large rubbish bins. Tom took out his overnight bag and threw in the contents and the bag itself. He had no use for it now and didn’t want to carry it around any longer. He got into his car and drove down the road in the direction of the prison.

It wasn’t long before he saw it. In the distance. A great grey edifice was rising into the grey sky. He had driven this road before just eight months ago, when he came to visit Tom, but now it seemed even bigger, even greyer than it had back then. His heart started pounding again and his cock started to twitch. He was glad he blew a load the previous night. He didn’t want to end up cumming in his briefs as he did when he read the letter. And he remembered how Tom had shot a load of cum all over the floor in the role play jail last summer before being ordered to clean it up. He didn’t know what would follow if something like that happened today.

Despite driving very slowly he reached the turn off to the prison well before 11am. Still an hour to go before he needed to surrender, but he thought he could always check in early. He turned in and drove to the visitors’ car park. He knew, because the order to surrender had told him so, that he should be dropped off at the prison and that any car left would be removed at the owner’s expense. But so what, it was a hire car and what were they going to do, send him to jail? He parked in the car park and got out to look at the information board. There was a brief but stern section on surrendering and a map pointing the area he had to report to. He couldn’t wait any longer, he wanted to get on with this. So he placed his car keys on top of the sun visor and left the car in the car park.

He walked down the road leading to the surrender office, which was much further than he had imagined. It was a grey day, even for April, and there was a chill in the air; he was grateful for the leather jacket.  Eventually he found a door with a window beside it. Below the window was a button, with a small sign saying ‘push for assistance.’ He pushed it and heard a buzzer go off in the distance. He stood there waiting. No one came. He wondered if they had heard it, so he pushed it again, hearing the buzzer go off. Another minute or so passed and he tried again.  Now he heard a door opening, then heavy footsteps and the face of a woman without a smile appeared at the window.

‘Yes’ she said, abrupt and irritated.

‘I have an order to surrender today’ replied Chris.

‘Give it to me.’ Chris handed it over to the woman.

‘You know you’re not due until noon. You won’t get the extra hour off the other end you know.’ She laughed at her own silly joke, one that Chris thought she must make regularly. ‘Wait here’ she said and was gone.

Chris stood waiting.  Standing there on his own and looking around he could see the tall metal fences with barbed wire on the top. The tall grey walls of the building. A bit further down there was a watch tower. Even though he was on his own, he felt intimidated and nervous. A chill wind was now blowing and again Chis was glad of the jacket. He did not want to be taken into custody, shivering, showing nerves, even though that is what he felt now more than ever.

Chris checked his watch and it was 11.23. He must have been waiting at least 10 minutes since the woman disappeared. Who knew the wheels of justice turned so slowly? Then he heard the door next to the window open. Standing there was the young officer he had seen at the diner. He saw the flash of recognition in the officer’s eyes as he tried to remember where he had seen Chris before, and Chris could see he remembered.

‘Nash?’ the officer said.

‘Yes’

‘Yes, Sir’ the officer said with the emphasis on the second word. He was now unclipping his handcuffs from his belt.

‘Yes Sir.’

‘Turn around and place your hands behind your back.’

To be continued…