I’m nude, arms sleeved up to shoulders, legs frogtied back butt to heel, resting on my elbows and knees. I have pads on my elbows and knees, but I know being stuck in this fucking thing is going to get uncomfortable quick. I am wearing an open mouth gag and a black, hood ski mask; as well as an uncomfortable metal chastity cage and open mouth gag.
I’m waiting in front of Warden Adams desk as she goes through my file. “Jealous and killed your ex in a drunken rage. Months of social media showing you were stalking her and begging her to take you back. Witnesses seeing you arguing in public. A drunken argument on her porch the night she was murdered. Such a terrible crime against such a bright young woman.”
But I didn’t kill her! I went to a bar to drink it off, and was woken by the cops the next day. My defence attorney told me the security cam in the bar wasn’t working and the bartender on shift quit with no forwarding address or working contact information. Of course my fingerprints and DNA were all over the crime scene, I used to live there! Prosecutors sought the death penalty, but later changed it to life without parole and “Wardens discretion” I was just now learning what that meant. I foolishly but desperately tried to convey my innocence to Warden Adams. She said “Silence, bitch boi!” in a stern voice that brooked no argument.
I heard her get up and walk around the desk to my right. She crouches and placed a tablet under my nose. Then she attached a hard drive with a USB cable. She turned on the hard drive and played a video of me in the bar at the time established for my ex-girlfriends murder.
What the…the camera was working! She said casually “I have a great working relationship with the prosecutor’s office. I needed a new toy and thought you’d be perfect.” She disconnected the hard drive and put it where they tablet was under my face. Then one black ladies boots came down and stomped on it. “This was the only evidence that could set you free, there are no copies, anywhere. I’m incinerating the pieces just to be sure. Your sentence as life without parole. If Another Warden succeeds me, your staying here in the bitchsuit, I’ll make sure if it.”
I start mmphing angrily lifting my head to look at her. She coolly stands up and picks up a riding crop off her desk. She swats me four times and says “Silence, slave! Bow your head!” I know who’s in charge here and bow my head stewing in my impotent anger. “Let’s get something clear, I don’t care if your innocent! I’m actually turned on by the unfairness of it! You are my pet! I am your Mistress and you will address me as such. Or you can end up like my last pet. He “accidentally” got left tethered in the control booth when some angry inmates rioted and took it over. I’ll show you some footage sometime. An “accident” can happen to you just as easy slave! Got it?” I was sullenly silent. She cropped my ass hard and yelled “Got it!?!!”. I mmmphed “Yes, Mistress.”
She said “Good.” I swear I could hear the smirk I’m sure she had on her face. “Now, as you know, every inmate in prison has a job. Your job as my pet has many duties I will introduce you to in the coming weeks. But you also have to serve your fellow inmates. Many of my best trustees have no conjugal visits and no release except masturbation. I try to limit sexual encounters not approved by myself. But I know I need dedicated trustees to help me run this place. And they need an outlet for their manly desires. That’s going to be your job, helping with your fellow inmates needs.”
I lift my head to start mmphing again.
She crops me and says “Silence, head down!” I obey, what else can I do. She pushes the shattered hard drive aside and holds a roll of duct tape under my face. “We can do some breath control of you still have objections?” I mmmph “No, Mistress.” She says “Good.” Then she puts a box of condoms to my left, the riding crop in the center and a jar of KY Jelly to my right. “One of my most loyal trustees had an appointment with my old pet, before his “accident”. You’ll do as a fill in. He likes to whip ass before he fucks it, so I’m going to give him the riding crop. Be forewarned he liked to make my last pet do ass to mouth. One more thing, your new name is Slave BitchBoi, you answer to that, got it, slave?” I mmmph “Yes, Mistress.” She pats my head and says “Good BitchBoi, that’s not your only appointment today. I have the prison tattoo artist marking your ass as Slave Bitch Boi. He’ll take a blowjob as payment, his last physical came back disease free, so you swallow, bitch.” She giggled as she sat backndown behind her desk.
My Eyes shift left to the condoms, center to the riding crop, right to the jar of lube. As my eyes circle back again my mind impotently rages against the injustice of my cruel fate…
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/t7n31g/the_unjust_imprisonment_of_slave_bitch_boi_str8