(Welcome to the Block)
Special Agent Troy was speaking with one of the bureau’s best DNA analysts. Mark Wright had refused to give a sample, and a quick hearing was held with three federal judges, who had ordered it anyway. She was getting the results now.
Her partner, Flemming, and a special FBI prosecutor flown in from Houston were present with her. The DNA Specialist, Dr. Jannet Bowers, was a familiar face in the field office on the outskirts of Southern Chicago, a place that buzzed with activity and tension.
Today was Thursday, and all the lab personnel who did not go out in the field wore Hawaiian T-shirts. Dr. Bowser had long black hair, wore thick glasses, and was a consummate professional. She was thorough, so woe be it to the defense attorneys facing her in a courtroom. They battled with tricks, guile, and lying, but Dr. Bowser cut through all that with sheer inescapable scientific proof.
Special Agent Troy asked, “Well, Bowser, what’s the story?”
The black-haired PhD never stopped working as she talked.
She answered, “As you know, as Mountains, we are getting older than dirt. It is a match and a rather strong one. You know, as often as you have been in the courtroom, anything that equals 200cM or more is a strong match. Well, this sample is almost 300 cM. You would have to hit the Powerball twice for that not to be a match. That subject is your guy, and I will destroy anyone in court with those numbers. It seems he was already in the CODIS database, something to do with getting rough with someone before, but they clammed up, and so no charges were filed.”
The federal prosecutor, named Joseph Sharpe, said, “Well, you had better bet your sweet ass there will be this time. The judges denied bail, so boo-hoo. His family has money, and he is defined as a flight risk. Let’s go shake his tree with this, and if he's still not talking, find someplace to store him till I can get this little shit in a courtroom.”
Mark Wright was handcuffed to the center of the table in Interrogation Room 12A. His lawyer, a balding man with a mustache named Dennis Hoxby, was with him.
The door opened, and Agent Troy and Prosecutor Joseph Sharpe entered the room. Troy tried to be neutral in her job, but there was no escaping it. She did not like Mark Wright or his lawyer either. She had been in criminal investigations for too long, and this tree bore rotten fruit.
They sat down, and she smiled. “I would like you to meet Federal Prosecutor Joseph Sharpe. Now, Mark, your lawyer will probably tell you that when you are handcuffed to the table in an interrogation room in an FBI field office, and a Federal Prosecutor shows up, that is a rather good indication that charges are going to be filed. Anything you would like to add before we continue?”
Mark Wright did as he had been told, “I will have to defer to my legal counsel on that one.”
She looked at the scruffy man who said, “My client is pleading the 5th Amendment and defers to answering any questions at this time.”
Sharpe added, “Be careful with that, as failure to cooperate now. There will be no plea deals once I get you into a courtroom and you do not play ball. I would be sure.”
Mark and his lawyer talked briefly; Mark could be heard saying, “I don’t know. It seems they are hanging me out to dry here.”
They talked briefly, and his lawyer said, “Again, as to any questions, my client is invoking his 5th Amendment rights.”
Agent Troy said, “In that case, the panel of Federal Judges had denied you bail. Normally, we would have you held at a federal holding facility until you are prosecuted. We are reasonable, though. We will hold you in a place where your college work will be interfered with. It is tailored especially for young men such as yourself. We have a gentleman here who is willing to tell you about it. I will find out what happened, with or without your cooperation.” They got up and left the room. A second later, the door opened, and Warden Kenneth Stanton entered the room with a pleasant look and a smile.
Just before Sharpe had left the room, “When court starts, just remember, you were offered a chance.”
Mark Wright had arrived at the Stanton home for youthful offenders and was being processed. The state-run facility had just received substantial federal funds, so they could hardly deny the request.
In Richard Koufax’s cell, he was sitting on the bottom bunk with his slave between his knees, slowly sucking his enormous cock. His cell phone rang, so he reached and answered it.
He listened briefly and said, “They say good things never happen. Thanks, man.”
His slave finished him off and swallowed his load and then carefully worked him and got him good and cleaned up.
He said, “Okay, you can stop.”
Max got up and sat on the bunk beside him. Since his assault, his Master had not been using restraints on him. He was worried he might still be traumatized a little.
The big man said, “You would never guess who’s being processed in?”
Max demonstrated his intelligence: “I would bet it’s Mark Wright. They are taking the long route, and he would have been provided with a good lawyer who has convinced him to stay quiet for now. It will be of no benefit in the long run.”
The Master looked at him and said, “No wonder I am always saying I never need to call upon Sherlock Holmes. Hell, he lives here and serves me. It’s a shame as we haven’t had an incident in the yard for some time now, afraid that is about to change up.”
Max looked at his muscular Master and said, “I must ask you something. I never do that. Please hear me out?”
His master looked back, leaned over, and kissed him for several minutes. He said, "There is nothing you have to say that I won't listen to."
His slave asked him, “Master, please promise me that you or none of the rest of the gang will hurt Mark Wright. For starters, if someone does and is caught, they will get serious time in the big house for it. Secondly, I need him in one piece for my plan to succeed. You can make life rough on him, which will help. Just please don’t hurt him.”
His Master thought and said, “Okay, although he deserves it. The Stanton Home will show him a little hospitality.”
An hour later, he had been processed, had a physical, and then put in a cell on the newer block.
The Master yelled, “Clyde Owens!”
Big Block & Tackle came into the cell a minute or so later.
He said, “Yes, Boss?”
The Master said, “Get with Eubanks. One of you, get Laurent and bring him up here. Also, a new guy has just been processed, Mark Wright. I would like you to go and bring him up here personally.”
Clyde said, “You got it.”
He set out to find Eubanks and go and get whomever this was.
Max's heart sank. The person they were about to get was one of his friends. They had let him take all the blame for what they had done, especially for what had happened at the Governor's summer home. Max couldn't understand why someone would act in such a way.
A few minutes later, Laurent entered the cell with Johnny Eubanks behind him.
The master said, “Hang around, Eubanks. Make yourself comfortable over there. You are going to go and help someone move.”
He replied, “Sure thing.”
Laurent said hi to everyone, and they all said hello back.
A few minutes later, gigantic Clyde shoved him into the cell, the epicenter of what had uprooted Max’s life. Mark Wright looked scared. Max knew that feeling because he was out of his place. He looked from face to face wildly and realized how tiny he was in comparison to most of them. His eyes settled on Max, and he began to look more scared.
Max Stapleton said to what had pretended to be his friend, “Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair! -Ozymandias.”
Max got up, walked over to their refrigerator, and got a can of Coke. He showed it to Mark for a second.
He asked, “What do you think, Mark? Should I do to you what you did to me with the beer? Slowly pour this onto the floor, and have you lick it up? Everyone here would certainly like for me to do so. Do you remember what I told you about our differences? I have taken responsibility and grown, as you have not. Here.”
He handed the person who had called him his friend the cold can of cola. He said, “I know you must be thirsty. They make you sit up there forever and never even offer water. That gesture alone shows you what I meant back at that house.”
He sat back down beside his Master on his bunk. This place had its form of justice and was out of his hands. Mark had to thank only one person for the position he was currently in. Look in the mirror, buddy, as your cold, evil actions led you here.
Richard Koufax said, "Laurent, this is our new friend, Mark Wright, who I assume will be here until he gets a court date. I don't think his cell was adequate. I am curious. What do you think, Clyde?”
Big B&T said, “I think you are right, boss. We can find a better one for him.”
The Master said, “Laurent, why don’t we put Mark in one of the outfits looking for someone to hang around with? He looks like he would go for that.”
Laurent said in his effete accent, “Javier’s crew has been on the waiting list forever.”
The Master said, “Well, Jonesy is on today, so let’s get him moved into better accommodations. B&T, you and Eubanks both see to it, please.”
Max felt acid rise into his mouth from his stomach. He despised this sensation. It seemed pointless, but his Master insisted on action. He was aware it could be worse. He was angry and maybe wanted payback, but it did not make him hate Mark Wright.
They all departed, leaving the Master with his Slave.
His Master said, “It’s okay, Max, to have a kind heart like you do. Except where you are concerned, the world has removed most of mine.”
His slave said, “I must go to medical. They are removing the sutures. Oh, I dread it, but it will be fine.”
Master said, “Go on then.”
Max left the cell and walked down the stairs to the guard's office at the bottom of H-Floor. He then entered the medical clinic, which was open. Dr. Rahman escorted him to the examination room, where he was asked to take off his pants and underwear and lie on his stomach on the exam table.
The cheerful Indian said, "I understand this may be embarrassing, but don't worry. Doctors see a lot and are used to it. I need to take some digital pictures before and after the procedure for the FBI. You'll need to sign a form for them. It won't be painful. It will feel like pressure, and the tissue is mostly healed.”
He took the preliminary photos, sat the camera aside, then gloved up. He came over and told Max to relax and took some forceps, then began to remove the sutures from his anal region. It took him only a little time. He took his gloves off and washed his hands. Then he took the after set of pictures. He removed his gloves and washed his hands.
As he had been working, the slave said, “I have been having a problem with stomach burning. Acid coming into my mouth, heartburn, that sort of thing.”
Rahman said, “You can put your clothing back on, Max. I am not surprised by the amount of stress you have been under. We will start you on a medication called Lansoprazole. That will sort it, I think.”
When Max had them back on, he handed him a clipboard with a set of FBI documents and a pen.
Rahman said, “You can just sit in that chair over there and fill those out.”
While Max read the paperwork and signed it, he cleaned his exam bed with Clorox spray. Then he pulled a chair over close to his and sat down. He accepted the clipboard and sat it in his lap.
He said, "Listen, Max, you have been through quite a bit. I can give you Trintellix and Clonazepam, and that is fine. However, I am becoming concerned about you as an internist and general practitioner. I am not qualified to do everything for you that I feel I should at this point. Yes, I can manage the stomach medicine for acid reducer. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, there is a trauma team here. It consists of a psychiatrist and a psychologist. They work hand in hand, share notes, and consult with each other. I want to put you on their schedule, but you must agree. We cannot mandate treatment protocols for you. I think it would be a good idea."
Max thought about this carefully as there was, at times, a great deal of stigma associated with seeing doctors like that.
Finally, he said, “I trust your judgment, Dr. Rahman. It's tough to come by in this place. I will see them if you think it is best.”
Rahman grinned at him, “I'm glad to hear that. No one knows you will see them, and it's completely confidential. The psychiatrist can adjust those medications better than I can. It's what they’re trained for.”
He grabbed a laptop and pulled up a scheduling screen. Then he asked, “Do you have anything on Tuesday at 10:00 a.m.?”
Max shook his head to indicate that it was clear.
The Doctor said, “The first appointment will be with the psychiatrist, Michael Fischer. He is a good man and very skilled, and everyone loves him. I will give you a pack of preliminary paperwork to fill out for him. Please have that completed before your appointment.”
Max said, “Yes, Dr. Rahman.”
The doctor said, “What does your Thursday look like at 9:00 A.M.”
Max said, “Normally, I am tutoring, but I can move that.”
Rahman said, “That will be your first appointment with Dr. Susan Ensign. It looks like the naval rank, but she says it like the word enzyme. This pack of paperwork is for both. Have it done before you see Fischer.”
The slave said, “Sure thing, Dr. Rahman. Where do I go to?”
Rahman said, “They are in the clinic on the other side of the building. It is much larger. You won’t need an escort, but you must badge in with the guard at the main entrance from here. The juveniles think you are all hardened criminals from over here, so just ignore them. They will ask you to bring cokes, candy, and everything else from here, and please don’t. If you see a fight or the like over there, please don’t intervene. Let the staff deal with it.”
Max said, “Got you.”
Rahman said, “One last thing, Max, I know what this place is and what sometimes happens here. Don’t let this embarrass you, but no anal sex for one more week. That tissue needs to heal.”
He got up, unlocked the pharmacy room, and went back inside. He came back with three big bottles.
Rahman said, “These are refills for your Trintellix and Clonazepam. The stomach medicine is once daily. If Dr. Fisher changes your prescription, bring back any unused medication. Okay?”
Max answered, “Yes, doctor.”
The Indian remained standing, “Now, that’s it, I will see you in one month unless you need me before then.”
Max left and returned to the cell, where they had lunch trays. He put his medication in its lock box, set up his Master’s tray, and then got his own. He brought them fresh cokes, and the Master joined him, and they began to eat.
He asked Max, “So what did the sawbones say?”
Max took a bite of a burrito and replied, “He took pictures and removed the sutures. Things can return to normal on the sex front fully in one week. I must start seeing two brain doctors, a psychologist and a psychiatrist.”
His Master looked at him and said, “Don’t think anything about it, Max. They're just doctors, too. It was hard for me not to bounce Mark’s head off the floor several times.”
His slave said, “I know, but just because other people are shitheads doesn’t mean we have to be too. You think you will be charged back up after we eat?”
His Master grinned, “I am always charged up.”
The slave said, “You can start using the handcuffs and stuff again. I am okay. I know you like it, and I don’t mind.”
The Master said, “Well, if you are going to be that difficult about it, I suppose I could.”
When they finished eating, the slave put their tray away. He had much left to do this evening. He also had one tutoring appointment and had to work two hours in the administrative wing. They brushed their teeth and swished with America’s greatest secret weapon, blue Listerine. Max undressed next to his bunk as the Master closed the privacy curtain.
He came over and undressed as well, “Lay on your back, slave, with your head towards the foot of the bed. As his slave obeyed him, he went and got his set of handcuffs. He came over and put them on before him, letting him ease back into it. He laid down on top of his slave so their heads were facing in the same direction, to begin with.
He put his mouth down over his slave’s, and the slave opened, and he ran his tongue into it. They lay there and kissed heavily for several minutes. His muscular Master continued to kiss him heavily, then pulled away. He got up, turned in the opposite direction, and lay atop him again. He reached around and took his big dick, then slid it into his slave’s mouth. He began lightly rocking his hips. Then he went faster and leaned down and took his slave’s cock into his mouth.
He laid on top of his slave, sucking his cock as he fucked the slave in the mouth. He was driving down into the slave’s throat. He was not rough, just authoritative about it. He knew his slave enjoyed him doing it, and it also felt good. He was also enjoying sucking his slave’s cock. This one had been through so much. He wanted to make him feel good as well. This one served him flawlessly, and one cared for someone like that.
He worked his cock at a steady pace and continued fucking his mouth at a steady rhythm.
His slave was enjoying it, “Uh-Uhm.”
They had gone recently, so it would take them a bit longer. The Master continued to drive on down into his throat and was running most of the length of his cock in and almost out of that mouth. His slave, since his hands were cuffed in front of him, had slid them up and was using those to play with his balls as he ran his cock in and out of his mouth. This made him hotter and made him suck his slave’s cock faster. It was so different with this one than with any other.
Yeah, cum control was a kink of his, but it was becoming less critical with Max. He had always been an I am getting mine, and who cares so much about yours. He could not be that way with this one. It was essential to make this one feel as good as he could.
He lay atop his slave, and they were sixty-nine ’ng each other.
Special Agent Troy was excited by what she saw at the local field office. She carefully reviewed the security tapes and verified that Maxwell Stapleton had not been at the Stanton Home. She had pulled Mark Wright’s credit card records during that period. Two entries stood out. He had ordered take-out pizza delivered to a home about forty-five minutes south. The house belonged to Gerald Khan, the Governor of Illinois.
She showed it to her partner, “Now what about that?”
Now, she had visions of becoming the assistant director of the FBI in the future. Then maybe the big chair. This was a once-in-a-lifetime case and damned if she would not make it. Her intelligent eyes roamed over the information she was looking at, and they didn’t miss much.
She said to herself, “Well, hello, Mr. Governor.”
Flemming looked at her, and she looked like the cat that ate the canary.
He said, “So, that is interesting.”
She smiled hugely and said, “Fuck yes, it is.”
She called the pizza parlor, and the manager answered. She asked him who had delivered to this address on those dates. One driver had made several deliveries. YES!!!! She verified their address and told the manager she needed to talk to this driver sooner rather than later.
He would call him in if they could head that way, and then they almost ran from the place. Wonder what all that driver would have seen? She was sure as fuck going to find out. And whose card/s that pay for the other orders? Just as Max had told his Master, he torpedoed the fuck out of them.
In situations like this, Special Agent Troy was a skilled investigator. She uncovered corrupt state officials and listened to the metallic clang of bars as they closed and locked. It’s what motivated her to lace up her shoes each morning. A governor may wield power, but a young man in a state facility might think twice. Not her, though, because she was the representative of the Federal Government.
The Master was face fucking his slave at a good tempo now and was sucking his cock like he was hungry for it. He most certainly was. If he had known what had just occurred, he might spontaneously come.
Beneath him, Max went, “Uhm-Uhm.”
On top of that, his Master was getting blast after blast of precum, and his Max would come for him. Plus, he was burning, too. He just went faster and slid up and down on his slave’s dick more quickly. His slave folded and began to flood his mouth with his cum, and he swallowed it and didn’t slow down one bit. He was about to erupt and tingle all up and down his spine.
His slave was good at this. They had done it repeatedly, and he had the sequence down just right. When the Master drove deep, he paused his breathing temporarily. When he pulled up, he quickly swallowed the saliva and precum. It was a process he followed repeatedly. Then his mouth was being filled with his Master’s cum, after he had just blasted his. He was feeling so good and swallowed as fast as he could.
Richard moaned out, “Oh, yeah, take that load, my hot slave. I know you like it.”
He pushed all the way down into the tight and hot throat and left it down in there shortly. His slave could handle that easily as he sucked the last from his cock.
Soon, they were sitting beside one another on the bottom bunk, and the muscular Master had his arm around Max, hugging him close.
He told his slave, “Damn, that was so good, you make it feel incredible.”
His slave looked at him, “So do you, Master.”
It was shower time. After a shower, Max headed out for his evening class and tutoring appointment. The Master had also showered and gone to battle Calculus, which he was now making a solid A in.
The sleek FBI cruiser pulled up 45 minutes to the south before Guido’s Pizza. Agents Troy and Flemming went inside. They met the manager and were introduced to Billy Henshaw, a short, curly-headed twenty-two-year-old. They showed him their IDs and sat at a back table for privacy.
Agent Troy wrote down the delivery address, and they told him the dates. He seemed an intelligent young man, and yes, he did remember. One tended to remember stuff like that.
Agent Troy asked, “What made it memorable?”
He blushed and said, “I made several deliveries there over the weekend. There were a few young men, and all that was normal. One of the young men had always been naked and seemed out of it. Would you believe they were even calling him......”
He blushed again.
Agent Troy said, “It’s okay, you are among friends here. What were they calling him?”
Billy Henshaw spoke softly, “They were calling him prison bitch. I thought at first they might be into kink or the like. They were not being good to this guy. Awful.”
Agent Troy was infuriated. “Oh, we believe you, Mr. Henshaw. Would you know them if you saw them?”
[Loads tubes 1 and 2, match bearings for a firing solution, and fire!]
The young man said, “I surely would, ma’am.”
[Torpedoes in the water and active!]
