Warden's Wife Pays His Debt Ch. 01

Just outside Grant's office sat Lisa Taggert, the warden's personal assistant and basically the left half of his brain. The 63-year-old woman had worked at San Quentin for the majority of her life including the past 25 years as personal assistant to a handful of warden's. And while Grant Rawlins ran the place as tight as a drum for the inmates, he was a great boss and far and away her favorite warden. They worked together with the efficiency of a Swiss watch. And she absolutely adored his young wife.

"Oh this is a wonderful surprise!" Lisa beamed as she rose up out of her chair and gave Liv a huge hug. "I didn't know you guys were coming by here before heading to the city. Honey, I think you get prettier every time I see you! I hope this guy is taking good care of you!"

The feeling of love and admiration that Lisa felt for Liv was reciprocated by Grant's young wife. Lisa Taggert was a shining star and the older woman did everything in her power to make Liv's husband look good 24/7 365.

"Yeah, he's not making me mow the lawns or take-out the trash too often these days!" Liv joked.

They all laughed.

"Lisa, I have to make a quick call and then you can debrief me on the day..."

"Sure thing boss, but in the meantime I'm going to get caught up with your better half!"

Lisa took a step back and admired Liv's outfit. "You always look so darn cute honey, that little figure of yours probably looks good in anything you wear though!" She sighed, "I remember way back to the days I could dress like that, my old Hank used to get so excited seeing me all dolled up!"

"I'm sure he still does, you don't look a day over fifty Miss Lisa!" Liv responded affectionately.

"Oh aren't you sweet honey, but I assure you, this old body doesn't look near as good as it did when I was your age. I used to surprise him with some really naughty outfits when he came home from the docks!"

"I bet you did!" Liv giggled, suddenly mindful of the fact she wasn't wearing panties herself.

"Okay, TMI let's not forget I'm still in the room ladies!" Grant reminded with mock seriousness.

"He is such a slave driver honey; I don't know how you put up with him!" Lisa quipped. She then followed her boss into his office and gave him a complete briefing of everything that transpired throughout the day. It would have taken most admins at least ten minutes to communicate what she did in two.

"10-4 Lisa, sounds like everything is on track for my meetings next week. Why don't you bug out of here a few minutes early and beat some of the holiday traffic, I will see you on Tuesday."

"Sure thing boss, Hank will be happy to see me. Maybe we'll drink some white wine and I'll dig up one of those old naughty outfits!" She said as she looked over at Liv and winked.

"As I said before, that is 'Too Much Information', now get out of here before I change my mind and make you clean the toilets over in the C-block Mrs. Taggert."

They laughed again before she quickly packed up her stuff and headed towards the door. "You guys have fun at that show, I've seen it three times, it's wonderful!"

"Drive safe Lisa, it's raining cats and dogs out there!" They urged simultaneously. "By the way hun," Grant spoke after Lisa departed, "remind me to take off the Yakima when we get down to the car, I just got off the phone with the St. Francis and their garage has a low ceiling height."

*****

Mylo Dickenson stood by the bars inside his cell waiting for the guard to escort him to the infirmary for his afternoon insulin shot. The 42-year-old convicted serial rapist looked forward to this process each morning and night as it allowed him a brief respite from the depressing confines of one of the most notorious cell blocks anywhere in the country.

Mylo was a lifer who shared the C-block at San Quentin with hundreds of the most violent men anywhere in the country. Many of whom were on death row...Deathies as they affectionately called them at the Q. He had himself been in this hell hole for the past 18 years since right around the time of his 25^th birthday.

Now as he neared his 43rd, Mylo had seen and heard just about everything there was to know about San Quentin State Prison. The place was not a hospitable home for inmates like Mylo. Never considered a rule follower, he had incurred his fair share of personalized punishment over the years in the big house, especially since this current warden had taken the reins of the old prison six years previously.

Mylo had come to Quentin in 2001 following a plea deal that spared him from death row in exchange for a life sentence without the possibility of parole. He plead guilty to 2^nd degree murder and twenty rapes around the Bay Area from 1998 to 2000. He had been officially nicknamed the Webvan Rapist due to the M.O. by which he chose his victims.

*****

Mylo was born as Myles Dickenson in Fresno California in 1976. He was a bastard son who, following an overdose by his addict mother, bounced in and out of foster care from the time he was 5. He lived a brutal life throughout his childhood and obviously didn't have a lot going for him as a youngster except the fact that he was blessed with a surprisingly high IQ and when on the few occasions he was cleaned up, he was actually a very good looking kid.

Still, despite his intelligence he rarely went to school and actually dropped out by the 10^th grade. Myles was constantly in and out of trouble for everything from petty theft, to breaking and entering, to torturing animals. By the time he was 16 he had an arrest record as long as any juvenile in Fresno County.

Unfortunately for Myles, his home life, if you could call it that, was more fucked up than his one on the streets. The teenager was sexually abused by more than one set of foster parents. As a result, he grew up with a fucked-up respect for authority and a general dislike for family values. All of which would have been enough to retard most juveniles, but in addition for Myles Dickenson, one very unique deviation occurred in his life, which along with his other experiences, ultimately led him down a path to severe sexual deviance.

He went through puberty.

Over the course of that year, his penis grew, and grew, and grew. By the time his adolescence concluded, his huge dick was 8 inches long when limp and close to a foot when aroused. And not only was it incredible in length, but the girth compared favorably to the thickness of a grown man's wrist. In addition, his testicles dropped and formed into a massive pair of lemon-sized semen producers that nearly defied comprehension.

During his teenage years, lots of girls were drawn to his good looks and bad boy persona. Once they got a taste of his cock, they were his for the taking. He fucked a lot as a teen. Along the way he also nailed a handful of his foster moms including the current one who was a stripper at a large club in Sacramento where they'd moved to the previous year.

Now 18, Myles would accompany her to the strip joint on a nightly basis to do odd jobs and sweep the floors. It wasn't a bad gig; he made a few bucks while checking out hot, naked women every night and stealthily pounding down half-full leftover beers. On a good night, he'd discover a leftover roach in the parking lot and smoke it to his head.

The strippers were all friendly to him, not just because he was Missy's son, but he was really cute and filled out his muscle-tees nicely. It wasn't long before he hooked up with one of the younger strippers. After that first night when he fucked the young blonde senseless, word got out about the kid's incredible endowment and other horny strippers were soon sucking and fucking the young stud.

When Billy Smith, the club owner, learned of Myles' special gift, he approached the kid about a steadier job than sweeping up floors and cleaning up empty beer cups. Smith told Miles he had a stable full of horny women, each with loads of cash pouring out of their g-strings, more of which he wanted to keep in house. He offered to pay Myles $10 for every stripper he fucked and told him he could keep any tips he got in addition. "You can make as much money as those big nuts of yours are capable of producing!" Smith told the excited kid. "These ho's get two twenty minute breaks during their shift, based on what I know about most of them, I wouldn't be surprised if they'd like to sneak some big cock into those horny holes at least once a night! Can you keep it up after you nut kid?"

Myles looked at him with a confused gaze.

"After you blow your wad, can you get hard again?" Smith clarified.

"I'm not sure what you are asking Mr. Smith, I can keep it hard as long as I want."

"Wait...you're telling me you don't get soft or lose feeling after you cum?"

"No sir...as long as there's pussy around, I can keep going forever, is that not normal?"

"Shit kid, if that's true, you're like the superman of fucking. How many times can you nut in a night?"

"I don't know, probably 8-10...maybe more."

Smith laughed in amazement, "What? C'mon kid...nobody can cum that many times without their balls falling off!"

"No disrespect sir, but you're wrong about that. A couple of weeks ago, Missy brought a few of her friends over and I fucked the four of them all night long. I guarantee I nutted at least 10 times that night. One of the gals had to go to the hospital at 6 a.m. to have her stomach pumped cuz she took too much of my jis down her throat!"

Billy Smith looked at Myles incredulously. When he finally got over the shock of what the kid just told him, he spoke, "Okay, I'm going to fix up the back room. I'll get a big bed and a couch in there, when can you start?"

"Tonight if you want Mr. Smith!"

"Shit, that back room is a fucking mess right now, I'll tell you what, I'll throw a blanket down on the couch in my office, you can use that tonight until we get the other room ready. Go tell Johnny I said it was okay to pour you a beer, then go wait in my office and I'll let some of the girls know. Hopefully someone takes us up on it tonight. Don't worry about collecting cash, just mark down anyone you fuck and I'll settle up with them, take my cut, and pay you your portion. Hey and let's keep this on the downlow, no sense letting Uncle Sam get his grimy paws on any of it. Oh, one more thing, no more giving that shit away for free, every ho that wants that big thing has to pay for it from now on. If I hear you are giving it away on the side or trying to cut me out of the deal, your ass is out of here! You got it?"

"Sure Mr. Smith, what about Missy?" Myles asked, referring to his foster mom.

"You are 18 now kid; make that fucking slut pay for it too!"

"Yes sir!" Myles responded enthusiastically before heading to the bar.

The couch in Billy Smith's office got plenty of action that night...as did the back room inside the club over the next couple of years.

Despite his past experiences, perhaps due to his young age, that first couple of nights Myles had been slightly unsure of himself and somewhat tentative. But it didn't take long for him to learn that he had the attributes and skills to make these older women do anything he wanted. Much like it had with some of his foster mom's and previous girlfriend's, Myles' big cock could convert any woman into a submissive slut in no time.

Over the next two years, Myles pounded more pussy than any man in Sacramento County. Much of it came from the endless supply of strippers flowing through Billy Smith's clubs, but he also did very well on his own, fucking countless young hotties as part of his assault on Sacramento's robust nightlife scene.

It was during this time in his life that Myles also got seriously into body-building and martial arts. By the time he turned 21, he had gained an additional 30 pounds of muscle on his 6'-3" previously wiry frame. Much like his cock, his hands and feet had also grown disproportionately large for his body when he was younger. Those attributes, combined with a focused dedication led Myles to achieve a 3rd degree black belt in Taekwondo during the time he worked at the club.

Women would swoon over his muscle covered physique and once they got a taste of what was in his pants, he could demand anything in the sack.

However with so many experiences under his belt, around the time of his 21^st birthday, he began to get bored with typical one on one sex. He engaged in more and more multiple partner hook-ups, but even those did not satisfy his unquenchable thirst. He began to realize that rougher, less-consensual sexual encounters were what really got him off. He found that he loved forcing himself on initially reluctant women only to turn them into sexual glutton's who eventually could not get enough of his huge cock. But as Myles' desire for more deviant sex became more pervasive, some of the girls at the club began to complain to Billy about him. Eventually it became so bad, that the club owner had no other choice but to let his lucrative huge-cocked gigolo go.

After the firing, Myles ended up following one of the hot young strippers down to the Bay Area. Tiffany, as she was known, was one of the few girls from the club that was into the rough, kinky, reluctant, sometimes mildly violent deviance that had become the mainstay of Myles sexual appetite. They were sexual peas in a pod and initially they fucked like animals for weeks on end. One new fetish that Myles developed was a desire to videotape their sexual encounters and watch them back either together or on his own. It wasn't long before Myles built a large library of some of the dirtiest sex tapes imaginable.

But the two of them quickly learned that Tiffany's strip club job was not enough to sustain them in the expensive Bay Area, so Myles, out of work and short on cash, answered an ad for a new startup dot-com company called Webvan. And while his juvenile criminal record would never have passed their standards for employment, Webvan reviews were only permitted to look at 18-year and older backgrounds. Lucky for Myles, in spite of his sociopathic tendencies and questionable employment history, he had kept his rap sheet clean since he turned 18. He was also able to get Billy Smith to write him a letter of recommendation from one of his more reputable businesses, which helped Myles get hired by the fledgling company desperately looking for drivers.

Webvan certainly didn't know what they were getting when they hired the 22-year-old as a grocery delivery driver to work their San Francisco peninsula territory.

For the first couple of months, Myles kept his nose to the grindstone and worked as diligently as he was capable. But eventually, seeing all those young, rich housewives answering the door dressed in everything from tight workout gear to swimming pool cover-ups, was too much for the rapidly developing sexual predator to take. Myles began having ongoing sexual visions about some of the young wives he delivered to. And while he didn't share them with Tiffany, he began acting them out while fucking the hot stripper. She became the outlet for his pent-up fantasies and the only thing keeping him from actually acting out on some of his disturbing desires.

Unfortunately, the unthinkable occurred one night when he returned from work to find a couple of cop cars in front of his apartment. The cops asked if he was one of the inhabitants and when Myles reluctantly admitted he was, they asked if he knew a woman named Tiffany Blackstone. When he replied that he did, they informed him that she had been shot and killed while standing in a convenience store line in Oakland waiting to buy cigarettes.

In the days that followed, Myles didn't feel any sadness about Tiffany's death, but he did quickly realize that for the first time since he was 18, he didn't have an unending supply of pussy at his disposal.

He started hitting the bar scene pretty hard again and captured enough new quim to satisfy most men, but Myles Dickenson was not most men. He had an insatiable appetite for sex, a dirty obsession that couldn't be achieved merely through consensual barfly one-nighters. He needed more.

And he needed to feed his growing desire for control, fed only by rough, non-consensual sex.

In an effort to pacify his newly formed addiction, Myles watched a lot of the aggression-filled videotapes that he and Tiffany filmed before her death. But while masturbation relieved some of his pent-up sexual energy, Myles soon realized he wouldn't be satisfied unless he acted out his deviant sexual fantasies.

One afternoon, while making a delivery to a large mansion in Hillsborough, Myles caught a glimpse of a great set of camel-toeing pussy lips through the bikini of a hot 29-year-old stock broker's wife. The young brunette was wearing a shear mid-thigh cover-up over her skimpy white two piece, but to his delight the sexy garment parted at the perfect moment and provided Myles with a glimpse of her swollen lower lips. The encounter aroused him on a level unlike any he could remember since taking the job at Webvan. Suddenly he visualized bending the young wife over the counter, tearing off her clothes and fucking the shit out of her right on the spot.

He maintained his composure, but the encounter triggered something within him. Myles' senses were now in overdrive as he stealthily scouted around and made mental notes about the huge place. He observed the layout of the house, the location of the alarm system control panel, vulnerable window and door locations, and finally the shape of the young wife's big tits as she gave him a measly $2 tip. "This rich, stuck-up bitch lives in her fucking multi-million dollar house and gives me this shitty little tip, wait till she gets my tip, followed by my head and the rest of my cock in her tight little bitchy cunt!"

When he got back out to his delivery truck, he pulled out a notepad and made a handful of notes about his encounter. He noted that the young wife apparently had no children and since he had not delivered dog food, nor had he seen one on this or previous deliveries, he made a note of that too. Finally, he confirmed the address and the name of the young wife...Carla Youngblood.

The grocery delivery man rubbed his massive cock through his work pants. He would see Carla Youngblood again...regardless if she ever placed another order with Webvan.

Over the next month, Myles collected similar information about a handful of other hot WILF's and MILF's during the course of his in-home deliveries. He was amazed at the useful details that some women would volunteer without him even having to ask, things like: Their husband's travel schedule...what nights of the week they were out...and whether they liked to sleep with the windows open. He quickly realized some were in fact flirting with him, but he purposefully did not return their amorous advances as he needed to keep a low profile if and when he ever followed through with his plan. He did not want to give off the impression that he was there for anything other than business.

He was, but it was not the business of delivering groceries.

Myles did his best to distract himself from focusing on his intensifying sexual urges by thoroughly researching everything he could to ultimately help him carry out his inevitable plan. He studied things like improved lock and security alarm systems, the most effective restraining devices, and new incapacitation weapons known as Tasers.

Back in his thieving days, there was not a lock or alarm that Myles couldn't break, but that was in Fresno, California where most of his targets either didn't have the resources to install high level security or simply didn't have enough valuable stuff to bother. Nonetheless, he was good at his craft and while these rich San Francisco peninsula folks had the resources for better systems, they came across to him as naïve and way too comfortable in their big, safe homes. He suspected many didn't even lock their doors or engage their security alarms at night.