Prisoners who have committed crimes against the person are of particular interest to the officers. These men have no sense of shame about interfering with another person physically to get their own way. In a way it really is the only language they understand. They have abandoned any notion that you can get what you want any other way. Well two can play that game, and in truth they really have brought this on themselves.
See more at Strip Search Hell – new updates every Wednesday
Almost 90 percent of lags go into prison with the full intention of keeping their heads down and doing their bird. They hope they’ll get early parole and can then, at leisure, plan their next crime. The screws have to identify who is likely to be reformed and who is just faking it for an easy life. One thing a lag cannot fake is his age. Older lads who still wind up in jail on financial charges are very unlikely to change their ways. Both inside and outside the jail…
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Inmate Frank Jeffery gets his ass probed while handcuffed to the counter during his strip down and cavity search at GuysInLockup:
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There have been reports of drones flying contraband into the jail, but, in a surprise to no one, endless searches of cells have turned up nothing. The first recourse is to make an example of someone and let it be known that strip searches will become more common as a result of drone activity. The someone has to be an alpha on the wing or it won’t work. The warders choose someone who is respected, has more to lose by kicking up a fuss than going along with it, and who is likely to have something on him. In this case its this stoic green eyed Irishman…
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Meanwhile at CMNM.net, handsome stud Nick dreamed of becoming a famous fashion model and he imagined being paid millions while getting to grope any woman he pleased.
But when he worms his way into a special shoot, he unexpectedly finds himself at the centre of perversity more debauched than anything he imagined possible! Now there is no escaping this riotous escapade, which has left him totally exposed and vulnerable.
See more like this at CMNM — Clothed Male Naked Male
At StripSearchHell, it’s comical that he still thinks that obeying the rules is beneath him. He’s been in clink for 2 weeks, and this muscular hairy fuck hasn’t realised that it doesn’t matter what he thinks. It doesn’t matter that he was once the big man. In here, he is a little bitch that got caught and now his body is the plaything of the guards. I bet he thinks they are too stupid to even look at him naked, much less touch his ass. Maybe he’s right, but that’s the rub when you’re thrown in jail, big man!
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They take a sperm sample! At CMNM.net, chained naked and on all fours like a great big dumb beast, the administrator slides his finger up Brad’s tight arse. The blank confused look on the thick bodybuilder’s face is prices while his arse gets plunged into. Gradually with the help of a dildo his sphincter is loosened till it’s gaping wide. Meanwhile Adrian pumps his cock vigorously till its aching hot and the great hulking animal releases a stream of pent up sperm. But muscular Brad is highly trained not to waste any precious protein!
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By Joshua Ryan
I was in another tall, old room, but this one was tall and narrow. Along one wall was a set of shelves, with line after line of metal baskets on top of them. Along the opposite wall was another one of those big old-fashioned desks — only this one was loaded with computer equipment. The equipment looked strange in a room like that, almost eerie. It was like two worlds were being jammed together. . . . The tears were still in my eyes, running down my face. I was having a hard time focusing . . . “Hit the prints!” someone barked.
There was a guard sitting behind the desk, and the guard was already yelling at me. “The prints on the FLOOR!” I looked at the floor. There was a pair of yellow feet painted there. I put my freshly polished black shoes on the fading yellow feet and looked back at the guard. He wasn’t looking at me. He was writing something, and it took him a long time. That is, I think it did. Time was strange at the moment.
The guard put a stamp on a thing that must have been part of my “docs”; then he got up and strode to the other side of the desk. He was young. He was Mexican. He was short and slight. His grays were freshly washed. His hair was freshly slicked and combed. There were deep thick furrows running through it, like newly plowed earth. And he had a paddle dangling from his belt.
