Of Delusions and DesirebyLadynStFreknBed©
He watched her. It's true that he intently watched all the guards. He looked for any mistakes, any negligence of which he could take advantage. His reason for watching her was different. He wanted her.
He felt as though the system was mocking him. A convicted rapist sentenced to fifteen years behind bars without any appealing sexual outlet. He was not a homosexual, not even a part-time one like those who had homosexual relationships in jail only to go home to their wives and girlfriends. Men did not appeal to him at all despite his desperation for sexual gratification.
After isolating him from any women he could come in contact with, they assign a sweet, young thing to his cell block. Those mocking bastards! He watched her walk, studying how her pert ass swayed with each step. He watched here bend over to pick up a pen or paper she dropped. She didn't bend her knees and gracefully lower herself to the floor like a lady. She bent at the waist, proudly flaunting her ass. He sometimes thought she put on a show for his eyes only.
He could smell her when she approached his cell. Her perfume, a flowery bouquet, preceded her. He knew she wore it for him. Why else would she wear perfume to a job like this? When she worked on another block, she often relieved one of the guards who worked on his block so that guard could go on break. He knew she did this just to be closer to him.
When she would walk by his cell, she would look in and smile at him. Of course, she did this to every prisoner, but he just knew there was something special in her smiles to him. He knew she wanted him. He also knew it was absolutely impossible for him to fuck her without her losing her job. Or was it?
His mind worked in overdrive as he devised a plan. He was a rapist. He accepted that title with pride. He had no shame in freeing women from their own prisons of self-denial. He knew all his victims wanted it. They won't admit it now, because that would make them look like whores. But, behind those tears they shed in the courtroom for the sake of the judge and jury, he knew they would want him again if they had the chance.
He watched her walk past his cell. She walked quickly, her blonde hair bouncing off her shoulders. She paused just long enough to check on him with a smile before she moved on.
He lay on his bed, his finger running along the edge of the knife he had tucked under his mattress. He had earned the opportunity to work in the kitchen. He knew how to get what he wanted. He knew which people he had to please. Just like on the outside, he knew how to make women feel comfortable enough around him to allow him to use them to get what he wanted.
He had stolen a knife from the kitchen and passed it off to another prisoner during mealtime. When the knife came up missing, they searched the kitchen staff and inmates working in the kitchen, but it was nowhere to be found. He knew it wouldn't be long before they searched the jail, cell by cell for this knife. He had to act quickly.
He wasn't impulsive like most of the prisoners. He was precise and cunning. While other prisoners were caught up in the drama of who beat up whom and jailhouse romance, he plotted. He spent hours every day planning how to groom his next victim. Sometimes he thought about Stacie, the guard. Sometimes, he thought about women on the outside.
An hour later, Stacie passed by his cell again. "This is it," he thought to himself.
"Ow! Oh my God!" he screamed as he clutched his stomach and dropped to his knees. Kneeling beside his bed, he yelled, "Ow! Damn! This is the worst pain in my life!" His voice sounded sincerely distraught. He knew Stacie would be the first guard to approach his cell since she had just walked by it a few minutes ago.
"Stacie, thank God!" he declared in a pained voice. "Please, you gotta help me up and walk me to the infirmary. Ow!" he said as he doubled over, his forehead inches from the floor.
Stacie rushed into his cell. He knew she would do that. This poor creature was trusting and impulsive. "If she had been his equal, she wouldn't have been such an easy target," he thought boastfully.
As she got to him, he grabbed the knife, stood up, and held the knife to her neck in one fluid motion. This is what he lived for. He dedicated his life to this as if it were an art. Stacie screamed as he forced her up against the wall.
He heard a guard running towards his cell. "Oh, good. An audience," he whispered.
As the guard reached his cell door, he yelled, "Stop! One step closer and I slit her throat!"
The guard froze, his eyes noticeably larger than normal and his mouth gaping. "Stop and think about this. You don't want to hurt her. You'll just make more trouble for yourself," the guard said as soon as he could find the words.
"You don't think I have thought about this? You don't think I lie here watching her taunt me?"
"But, I never...," she stammered, but she knew that any way that she finished that sentence would be a lie. She had fantasized about her attacker. She had, in what she labeled her "darkest fantasies," had explosive, body-wracking orgasms imagining this very scenario. But, that was fantasy. She didn't really want it. Did she? Her mind was reeling. As much as she was denying it internally, she felt herself getting wet.
His eyes were so intense. She trembled when he pressed the knife into her throat, just enough for her to recognize the reality of the threat. With his attention turned to the on-looking guard and the knife firmly against her throat, he reached down and opened her pants, letting them fall to the floor.
He took his free hand and wrapped it around her neck, using the wall as a base for his choke hold. He then used the knife to slice through her thong. He had suspected that she wore a thong for him. The tattered thong landed on the discarded pants.
He held the knife to her throat as he lowered his pants. He saw the horror in the face of his audience. At this time, two more guards joined the show. They were whispering amongst themselves.
"Shut up!" he barked at the guards. One guard took a step towards him. "Do you need to see her blood to know that I'm serious?" he yelled. In reality, he didn't want to hurt her. He didn't want to, but he would if that's what it took to give her what she wanted.
He pressed his hard cock against her stomach while glaring at the other guards. He used his leg to part hers. She whimpered when he stepped into her and jammed his cock into her wet slit. He shuddered at the sensation of the tight wetness now gripping his cock.
He took his eyes off the guards just long enough to look at Stacie's face. Her eyes were large and begging. He quickly turned his attention back to the guards. One had been trying to inch closer to Stacie.
"Trying to be a hero will get someone killed!" he yelled at the intruding guard.
He tightened his grip on the knife and held it firmly against Stacie's neck. She gasped as he pushed his cock deep into her. "Don't worry. I won't let them stop us," he whispered.
He thrust his cock into her. She moaned. She tried not to, but the force of his thrusts and the intensity of the situation had made her feel drunk with desire. She worried that the other guards would be scrutinizing her reaction. She knew she had to hide any sign of arousal. "It's good that they have no idea how wet I am," she thought.
He monitored the guards as he continued to thrust into her. He leaned his ear close to her mouth so he could hear her panting. He smiled as he heard another soft moan escape her lips. He felt her tighten around his cock. He couldn't hold back much longer. He pounded into her, feeling her shudder and hearing her whimper as he took what he wanted. He bit her neck as he came inside her, knowing that he would be finished by the time the guards reached him.
Stacie collapsed to the floor as the guards pulled him off of her. She looked up at her attacker. He looked deep into her eyes, which seemed to say more than words ever could. Their gaze locked for seconds before a guard helped her up, draped her with a blanket, and led her out of the cell.
As Stacie left the cell, she turned and looked at him one last time. "You're welcome," he whispered.