After two days, I had pretty much settled into jail routine. The mornings were nice; I’d wake up to the soft light at dawn, and drowsily drift in and out sleep with the sounds of the town waking up in the distance. The light would gradually bring the details of the cell into focus — the giant rivets, the steel walls, the steel L-brackets welded to the side walls, the glimpse of the cellblock through the steel bars of my cell doors. I’d become more aware of the smells of steel and concrete, and eventually I’d get up and piss a stream into the bucket.
When I was in the end cell, the jailor had to be in the cellblock to see into the cell through the bars of the cell door, and I could hear when he was entering the cellblock because unlocking the cellblock door made a loud racket. In the middle cell, the jailor could more or less sneak up from the jail portion behind the shower and look into my cell through the bars in the back wall of the cell. I wasn’t certain if I liked being more exposed or more secluded.
Since there wasn’t a table in the middle cell, and now I was supposedly a “medium security” risk, the jailor fed me my meals at the table in the cellblock area. He unlocked the padlock on the door of cell, exited the cellblock, slammed shut the cellblock door, padlocked the two huge sliding bolts on the cellblock door, then unlocked the sliding bar locking mechanism that locked and unlocked all three cell doors simultaneously. Then he told me that I could push open my cell door and enter the secure cellblock area. He pushed my cereal and banana through the handcuff slot, and I sat at the small table to eat my breakfast. I would’ve given my left nut for a cup of strong black coffee, but I knew better than to ask.
Hans was in his cell eating his breakfast, but I pretty much ignored him until I was finished, then I went by his cell door to look in on him. He was still shackled and chained to the wall, and I think he had slept in handcuffs that night also.
The jailor then locked me back in my cell, and I settled in for the day. I tried to give the jailor the minimum respect required to keep me out of additional restraints. One of the punishments he used was a prison restraint chair, which was basically a wheeled chair with restraint straps on your legs, arms, waist and shoulders. You were pretty much immobilized in the restraint chair, and I wasn’t to keen on being in it. Another punishment was the prison hogtie, which I was fine with, and of course he could chain me to the wall, like Hans, with a short amount of chain. In any event, I pretty much just wanted to enjoy being in the cell, so I afforded him the least amount of respect that I could to avoid punishment.
The time sort of blurs, but I’m pretty sure there was a work assignment that morning. The jailor let me into the cellblock, gave me a rag and some cleaner, and I had to clean the table, the sink and the toilet. But the best part of the morning was the time spent enjoying the solitude of the cell, with the occasional clankety-clank of Hans’ chains.
Sometime later that day, I heard some commotion in the intake area, and I knew that another prisoner had arrived. I could hear the jingle of keys, the rattling of shackles and four-way restraints, the slamming of the intake cell door, muffled voices as the jailor searched the new inmate, issued him a jail uniform, and took his mug shots.
Eventually the doors between the intake room and the jail opened, and the jailor escorted the new prisoner into the jail. I had gathered that he was in for draft evasion and drunk driving (remember this was 1966 in the role-play.) I’m thinking he’d have to be pretty fucked up to be nabbed for drunk driving in the middle of the day, especially in 1966.
I was watching through the bars of my cell door, and I could see a guy about my size, but maybe with a bit more muscle, in the orange uniform, but I couldn’t see his face at first. I yelled out a smart-assed comment, I think I asked him if he was a happy drunk or a mean drunk. Then the jailor pushed him in the cellblock into my view. A hard face contemptuously stared at me with cold blue eyes, a closed trimmed dark goatee, and dark hair closely braided in cornrows. A mean-looking tattoo stretched across his upper chest, visible through the V-neck of his prison shirt.
“Holy FUCK,” I thought. This guy looks mean as hell, and he definitely looks like he belongs in jail. Like I said, he was about my size with a little more muscle, good looking in a tough-as-nails way.
He didn’t say anything to me, and the jailor put him Cell #3, to my left. I heard the clanging and banging of the cell door slamming shut and being padlocked, the solid bang of the sliding bars locking all the cell doors, and the slamming shut and locking of the cellblock door. Now all three cells were occupied, with Hans in the maximum-security cell on the end, me in the middle, and Cornrows in a cell identical to mine on the other end.
At some time in the afternoon, the jailor offered us all yard time. All three of us said yes, so now the jailor had to figure out how to get us all out of the jail and into the yard securely. He decided to chain all of us together, shackled and cuffed, and he led us in a chain gang into the yard. He shackled, cuffed and chained us all together in the cellblock, then unlocked the cellblock door and the jail door to lead us into the intake room. The yard was just beyond the outside door of the intake room.
He led us out the door and into the chain link and barbed wire enclosure that was the yard. The jailor decided we three would be more secure if we stayed shackled, cuffed, and chained together in the yard, so he padlocked the yard gate shut and sat down on the steps to guard us.
Like I said before, the yard was a concrete pad, maybe 20 feet by 35 feet, surrounded by a high barbed wire topped chain link fence. There was a picnic table, but nothing else in the yard. The jailor gave us cards, so we sat down at the picnic table, all chained together, to play cards and enjoy the beautiful summer afternoon. The yard was in full view of passers-by on the street, and we noticed a few cars and pickup trucks circling around the block for another look. A guy from the gas company parked his car at the curb and came up to chat with the jailor. I was totally turned on by the public humiliation. I had no idea if these people looking at us thought we were real prisoners or just perverts who paid to be locked up. Either way, it was fucking cool to be out there in that cage of a yard, in plain view of everyone.
After a while, the jailor marched us back into the jail, unlocked us in the cellblock, and ordered us back into our cells. The rest of the afternoon was routine, being handcuffed to the cell wall for a cell inspection, but mostly just kicking back in the cell savoring the incarceration. I was horny as fuck, especially with prisoners on either side of me, and I was fantasizing about Cornrows shoving his fat cock down my throat.
At suppertime I was let out into the cellblock and ate dinner with Cornrows at the small table. Turns out that he was actually a pretty nice guy, although I’m guessing he had a pretty nasty dominant streak in him. We chatted a little with Hans, who was eating in his cell, and soon I was locked back in my cell.
Since Cornrows was a lower security inmate, he was allowed to stay in the cellblock after dinner while Hans and I were locked in our cells. He pretty much stayed to himself, and the jailor let him watch a movie on the TV that was outside the cellblock. I couldn’t see or hear much of the movie through my cell door bars and then the cellblock bars, but that was ok. I liked being locked in my cell having Cornrows in the relative freedom of the cellblock.
I was fantasizing that Cornrows could have stuck his dick through the bars of my cell door and I’d suck him off, but, unfortunately, that didn’t happen outside the confines of my imagination. The jailor certainly would not have allowed that. Although he wasn’t in the jail area all the time, he had listening devices and could hear everything that went on.
I did play with my dick though, and I enjoyed teasing myself knowing that Hans was on one side of me and Cornrows was just outside in the cellblock. Later, after Cornrows was locked back into his cell, I wanked off again. I’m not sure how loud I was, but I was turned on that Cornrows was literally inches away from me, albeit on the other side of a quarter-inch thick steel wall. I’m hoping he could hear me as I lubed my cock with spit and rubbed one out. Again, I was surprised by the volume and force of my load as I spewed cum all over my chest and abs.
Another night and morning passed, pretty much repeats of the previous two nights. I drifted in and out of sleep, with my bare skin against the plastic mattress, hearing the snoring of the other inmates, and finally I was out again for another fantastic night of sleep.
Hans was released first thing that morning. I didn’t see much of him, but he was marched past my cell on his way to the shower before he was released. I could hear him showering, and I could hear as the jailor locked him in the intake cell, which I guess was now the out-processing cell.
My sentence was up at noon. Most of the morning was spent in my cell, with the exception of a shower. Once again the jailor went through the whole unlocking the cell procedure, and first I heard Cornrows take his shower, then after he was locked back into his cell, it was my turn.
When I was released, the jailor took me in shackles and cuff out of the jail area into the processing area and locked me into the processing cell. He had me strip out of my jail uniform, and he inventoried my stuff as he gave me back my clothes, watch, keys, and wallet.
I really didn’t want to leave. I loved being locked in that jail, in the cell locked behind the impenetrable cell door, behind the equally impenetrable cellblock, with nothing but a plastic mattress, coarse wool blanket, bucket for my piss. I loved the jail showers; I loved the chain link and barbed wire fenced in yard. I loved the back and forth with the jailor, testing how far I could push him without being punished. I loved listening for the courthouse clock chimes; I loved the smell of the jail and the faint whiff of outside as someone nearby mowed a lawn. I loved the sound of the semi trucks lumbering down the main street outside the jail. All in all, it was a splendid way to spend a few days, and I wish it could have been more.
Metal would like to thank the author, Pisslurper — who is pictured locked in my cage while writing Part 3.