Conjugal Visit A story by Rich Humus "Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee........" The shrill scream rang in my ears and echoed down the hard corridor, seeping into every crevice and corner of the place. I tried to close my ears to it, but the knowledge and the memory fought its way into my consciousness. I pounded my fists in to the hard cot below me in frustration and anger as the screams rebounded down the long hallway, but there was no way to silence them. And I was the cause of them. It had all started a few weeks ago. Federal marshals escorted me to Graingerford Federal Penitentiary, where I had been sentenced to 10 years. I had been found guilty of embezzlement from my former employer, and to tell the truth, I was guilty. The old hatchet-face who ran the company barely kept his employees alive and tried every trick in the book to cheat them himself, but I suppose my attempt at retribution was no better. That's not the point. The point was, as I kept reminding myself, that I had 10 years to serve out my sentence, and then we'd have to start over. We being my wife Denise and I. No kids. No time for them. She was a fairly successful marketing consultant. Luckily, we'd had enough put away for her to keep the house and support herself while I was in prison. I remember the long drive to Graingerford. She wasn't allowed in the government car, but had followed us all the way there, and was allowed to accompany me as I was processed though the paperwork and was presented to the warden. Warden Jackson. Somehow I mistrusted the sunuvabitch as soon as I saw him. Corpulent, wearing ill fitting clothes and reeking of garlic and bad food, he seemed little better than the 3500 convicts he oversaw. "Well, mistah Palmer, ah see you have brought the lovely Mrs. Palmer along to say your last goodbye's", he almost cackled as us, winking and leering at me through his grimy glasses. I watched him look her up and down. It wasn't the first time I'd seen men mentally raping my wife. She's a stunning woman, almost 5'10" tall, with a lovely 36C-24-35 figure. She knows she looks good, and doesn't hesitate to trade that off for power and authority. She always wore short dresses or skirts to show off her legs, and sometimes I thought her blouses were just a little bit too sheer, or unbuttoned just a little too low, but never said anything. Hell, I enjoyed looking myself. She drew herself up to her full height and returned his stare. Her icy gaze seemed to deflate the pompous ass for a moment, but then he recovered and turned back to me. "Men in this facility do not have it easy, Mistah Palmer. Although there ah some 'white collar' crim'nals, such as yourself, he-ayh, a vast majority of the men here are serving longer sentances for far more violent crimes and ugly crimes - rape, murder, sexual assault, robbery, car theft..as we all know, the federal budget for incarcerations has grown through the years, but so many people ah being found guilty, why, there just isn't enough space for them all...and you know how no one wants a prison in their back yard, now do they?" "I'm given a fairly free hand in how I run this place. We've had very few escapes. And most of them didn't survive the night, ah'm sorry to report. My guards are all hand picked. They know how to handle men like you, or even men like Mr. Jonas here," he said, gesturing behind us. I turned to see the largest, meanest looking black man I'd ever set eyes on. He was at least 6' 8" tall, and probably weighed 350 pounds if he weighed an ounce. He had three pairs of shackles around his wrists, and two around both ankles. It was clear they wanted no trouble out of this guy. "Tell Mistah Palmer what you're in here for, Mistah Jonas", the warden said, almost gleefully. Several seconds went by before the black giant rumbled to life. "Double murder and rape." I heard Denise gasp below her breath. "How many rapes, Mistah Jonas?" ....."Seventeen." Another gasp, and I saw Denise's skin get a shade paler. "And how long are you going to be one of our guests, Mistah Jonas?" Jackson countered. "Life. Plus 20 years." "So you see, mistah Palmer," he said, turning back to me and waving the guards and Jonas away, "We have all kinds of 'gentlemen' here. Most are, truthfully, little more than animals. If you would not like to become the 'friend' of mistah Jonas, or other creatures like him, I'd suggest you do your time peacefully, cooperate with all of us who run the facility, and keep your nose clean. Have him processed." He finished curtly, waving us out of his office as he'd done with Jonas. Several hours later, paperwork processed and final arrangement made, I hugged Denise tightly, unashamedly in front of the guards, and whispered in her ear. "I love you honey. Please try to have a life while I'm here...." I choked up, unable to say anymore. She looked at me with her endless blue eyes. "I love you too, honey. Be careful. I'll be back soon - as soon as a visiting day comes." With that, and a brief touch of hands, the guards hustled me away and through the first of several series of clanging and banging doors until I found myself in my new address. Level 4, Block 8, Cell 26. Somehow, I'd gotten a cell with a small, 6 inch window in it. I stood on the cot and looked out. I had a view of the prison gate, and had to choke back a mixture of anger and sadness as I watched Jackson escort my wife back to her car. He leaned down into her window as she started to pull away, spoke what looked like a few words to her, then stood and watched her drive off, as I did. I watched long after her car was too far away to see. The next few weeks seemed to drag on. Prison life is indescribable to someone who's not experienced it. I see now why some men prefer death. The constant yelling and taunting, the horrible food, the sanitary facilities, all seemed like something out of a bad remake of Cool Hand Luke. I half expected Strother Martin to come by and tell me we have 'a failure to communicate'. Finally, about six weeks into my term, it was visiting day. I looked forward to seeing Denise again, even if it was through a plate glass window. I waited anxiously all day for the trustee to come and get me. I sat on my cot and waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, around 5PM, when the last of the visitors had already been escorted out, I was summoned to Warden Jackson's office. My heart sank, expecting to be told that Denise wasn't coming or that, for some reason, I wasn't being allowed to see her. The trustee opened the door to Jackson's office, and closed it behind me. Not a common thing, I understand. Jackson was rarely left alone with a prisoner. Most of them could probably tear him limb from limb if they wanted to. All I saw was the back of his chair. "Ahhh, mistah Palmer. So good to see you again. I hear you are behaving yourself. That's good. Very good." He turned in his chair to face me across the desk. "Please...sit." he said, indicating the chair in front of him. "What do you - " He held up a hand, silencing my question. "I'm afraid, mistah Palmer, that I have some ...... good news ..... and some bad news," he said, dramatically, pausing with some relish at the last words. "The bad news is that, unfortunately, your wife, the lovely Mrs. Palmer, was not able to see you today." "Why not - " Again the hand. "Oh, she did come here. All the way here. In fact, ah had a few of mah men pick her up this mo'nin' at your home. A lovely home, too, ah understand." The words dripped from his slovenly mouth like rancid butter. I sat slackjawed. "You see, Ah'm implementing a new program here at Graingerford. I hope one day, Lord willin', to see it takin' place at correctional facilities all across the nation. Come with me." He indicated the door, and took my arm as we walked out. "You've been our guest here, what, a little more than 40 days, am ah correct? Out of a ten year sentence. That means you have approximately three thousand, six hundred days to go, am ah correct?" God, the man's weasly voice was nearly driving me nuts. And I'd hardly spoken to him since I got here. "Yes." "Well, we just may have a way to reduce that long, long time just a bit, now. Yes, maybe we do." We'd passed down a long corridor that rose above the central hub of the prison. There were five long 'spokes' of cell blocks radiating out from a central location, and the administration wing was a sixth spoke. It was a floor higher than the cell block spokes, and from certain vantage points, you could look down the narrow hallways of each cell block, or almost directly below into the central hub of the 'wheel'. As we got closer, I could hear what sounded like an excited hubbub of voices, the occasional cheer or shout rising above the crowd. I couldn't understand what was going on. When we got to the overlooking glass, he pointed down to the crowd. I could see probably a hundred or so men, mostly prisoners, but also guards with rifles and truncheons standing around. There was a large crowd, maybe a dozen or so men, clustered around what appeared to be a slightly raised platform in the very middle of the space. They were packed so tightly, jostling for position and moving randomly, that I could not make out any rhyme or reason to it. A quick glimpse of white between the men stood out in stark contrast to the mainly black and hispanic bodies crowded around the platform. I stood and watched for a few minutes unknowing. Finally, Jackson rapped on the glass with his knuckle. One of the guards looked up at us, and caught his eye. He nodded at the guard slowly and raised his hand with one finger in the air. The guard pointed his rifle up and fired off a single shot. The noise was deafening in the closed in space. The men almost instantly stopped their activity, and slowly seemed to peel themselves away from the center platform. It was then that I noticed that several of them, if not totally nude, were without pants. Gradually the object of all the men's attention was revealed to me. It was a woman, by god, sprawled out spread eagled on the platform. Chains at each wrist and ankle bound her to the corners of the unholy alter. She was nude. Suddenly it hit me with the force of a tornado. "DENISE!" I screamed. "DENISE!!!" I screamed, pounding my fists on the bulletproof glass. I turned to Jackson with hatred in my eyes. He halted me with a hand, as I saw three guards move cautiously towards us. "There, there, mistah Palmer. There is nothing you can do for her at the moment. Let me explain. You see, yore wife's obvious beauty caught my eye when you were first admitted here. So I devised a plan. Her employer was convinced to give her a leave of absence for as long as she liked. Now, she didn't want to take it, but he convinced her. Especially since he will be continuing her salary for as long as she's gone. And then today, I sent a few of my best men to pick her up and bring her here. About twenty minutes ago, ah personally locked her to that table you see her on there, after first removing all her nice clothing. You see, ah didn't want it to get ripped..." I balled my fists and it was all I could do to not smash his ugly face in, but the guards held my elbows and the rifle barrel in my back was not comforting. "So here's the plan, mistah Palmer. You have three thousand, six hundred and seven days to go on yore sentence. Well, each time yore lovely wife is the, shall we say, 'recipient' of one of my men's sexual emissions, we will take one day offa yore time here. Isn't that lovely?..." I couldn't believe it. This man, this beast, was trading my wife's rape for my time. ..."You see, sexual urges ah very hard to control in places like this. It makes the men into beasts, yes it does. And when they ah beasts, they ah harder to control. But when they-ah sexual urges have been satisfied, at least fo' the moment, they ah much more docile. Don't you think?" My head pounded, I could feel my blood racing in my veins. And, curse it all, I could feel my cock stiffening. Being without sex for six weeks, it was all I could do to remind myself that that was MY WIFE down there, tied down and helpless, about to be mass raped by a prison full of convicts. "C'mon, let's go down and say hello to her." He pointed to the elevator that led down to the ground floor below. I meekly followed him and the two guards followed me. Once down there, I could see clearly what the situation was. The men were watched closely by all the guards. I walked slowly up to Denise, the men oddly parting to let me pass. I could hear their muttered comments. "Dam fine bitch she is.." "Gonna get me summa dat pussy" "I wonder can she handle this foot-long dawg o' mine..haw haw haw.." Their comments burned in my ears as I knelt next to her shivering, shaking body. I reached out a hand to tentatively touch her face, but she quaked and recoiled in horror before she realized who it was. I let my eyes wander down her magnificent body. Her breasts heaved with her excited breathing, nipples erect and juicy looking, whether from fear or excitement I couldn't, and didn't want to, know. Her trim waist still had the gold chain around it that I bought her for her last birthday. Her mound, shaved but for a small patch on her pubis, brought back memories of the hours I'd spent licking and caressing her. Was this all her fault? Had she not been so damned attractive and sexy, would the warden have not forgotten about her? I cursed myself. I looked into her eyes. Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. I could do nothing but whisper to her.. "I'm sorry..I'm sorry...I'm sorry..." I felt rough hands grasp my shoulders and pull me away. "Now then, mistah palmer, since yore so good with numbers..." Jackson seemed to gloat, "Ah'm gonna do you the honor of keeping count for us. All you have to do is make a mark down here on this tablet each time yore wife is able to 'extract' the seed from one of mah boys here, and we'll keep a runnin' tally of things. It should be fairly easy to tell when one of them has his way, don't yu'all think? " "Ah've taken the liberty of allowin' them to utilize whichever one of yore lovely wife's openings is available. We don't want that lovely pussy of hers to get totally overworked now, do we? And I do so hope she's able to swallow my boys' messy old jizzum if any of them, on the off chance, should want to 'e-jac-u-late' in her mouth?" He seemed to take fiendish pleasure in pronouncing each syllable of that horrid word. "Oh yes, and here's some rags and stuff, to wipe her down ev'ry now and then. Don't wan't mah boys getting' all messy now, do we? And now, as befittin' my status as the warden of this here facility..." I dreaded the thought. The idea of this fat, greasy worm violating my lovely wife with his obscene body nearly made me retch. I watched in horror as he undid his belt and slipped his pants down below his fat white ass. Clambering up on the platform, he roughly leapt on my wife's nude and bound body with a rebel cheer. "Yeahh!!! PUSSY!!!!!" he shouted, to the cheers from the men around us. I watched his ass pump in and out, hearing the groans from Denise as she was subjected to this awful terror. As I suspected, he did not last very long, thankfully. Just thirty or so seconds after he began pumping his vile penis into my wife I watched him shudder and stiffen, and pump jet after jet of semen into her clenching uterus. He pulled out unceremoniously, and reached down between her legs. Thrusting two fingers roughly into her, he withdrew the two slimy digits and held them up for all to see. "ONE!" he yelled triumphantly. " To be continued....
Conjugal Visits Part Two By Rich Humus Synopsis - our narrator has been imprisoned, and to help work off his term, the evil Warden Jackson has kidnapped his wife and chained her to a large platform in the central part of the jail. Read Part 1 for the full background...now, without further ado, Part 2... I held my head in shame and horror - that fat fuck of a warden had just raped my wife in front of me, and what appeared to be over a hundred prisoners in the jail. I could hear Denise softly sobbing in the background. It was only after a few minutes, with the jeers and catcalls of the prisoners ringing off the cold cement surrounding in the background that I could raise my head and absorb the full impact. The platform they had ingeniously constructed seemed devilish. Large round eyebolts were at each corner, with chains attached that lead to Denise's wrists and ankles. They were not pulled taut, but there was not much slack in them. She was effectively immobile. The platform was about 10 feet square, and about three feet thick. I noticed an odd crank protruding from one edge of the platform. A prisoner stepped to it and slowly turned the crank. I heard a grinding noise and my wife groaned. It was then that I noticed the middle of the platform bulging under her. There was some sort of cam arrangement beneath, creating a bulging center area that pushed Denise's hips and midsection up, obscenely thrusting them out and causing her body to bow upwards. The chains at her ankles and wrists tightened perceptibly. After just a few clicks, her hips where elevated several inches above the rest of her body. I looked at her again. There were cut outs in the platform that removed the area between her legs, effectively making it possible for her rapists to simply walk up and impale her, without even bending over. It was a raping machine, no doubt. The fiends who had kidnapped her had evidently planned it well. They knew just how to maximize the arousal and desire of the hundreds of men now waiting to ravage her. They must have gone through her bureau, grabbing her most private undergarments and lingerie. She was wearing a black lace garter belt with tan stockings, and a Victoria's Secret underwire bra that had the cups pushed down below the slopes of her breasts, exposing them fully. Around her neck was the velvet and diamond choker I had bought her for her last birthday. Her loveliness, even in this horrid position, was evident. I found myself guiltily looking at her splayed open womanhood. She had always shaved there, at my urging. Her lips were splayed open, turning red already from the abusive thrusting of Warden Jackson. A small trickle of whitish fluid was starting to seep out. I could only hope that she had been continuing to use her birth control pills. The amount of semen that she was no doubt about to be absorbing couldn't fail to impregnate her, if she was anywhere near her fertile period. The idea of being impregnated by a nameless felon caused my body to shudder in revulsion. "She's a beee-yooty, isn't she now, Mistah Palmer.." the raspy voice of Jackson at my ear. He grabbed my elbow and pointed at my helpless wife. "She put up quite a ruckus when mah men went to get her, they say. Kicked and screamed like a little bitch, she did. But one little nudge from our nasty friend here, and she calmed right down." With that, he brought something up to my face. It was one of those Taser guns some police use, jolting several thousand volts of electricity into a prisoner at a single press of the button. He fingered the trigger, and I saw a jolt of sparks cross betweeen the terminals, crackling and sputtering in the air like a small lightning bolt. The thought of my wife being subjected to that torture ran though me like an iron spike. He handed it off to the guard pressing his rifle barrel in to the back of my neck. "If he tries anything funny, give him a shot." Then he motioned to the other guard, who brought up a clipboard. "Here is yore score sheet. " he said, grinning evilly at me. "Ah want you to mark down every one of mah boys who makes love to yore sweet wife here." The use of "makes love" seemed to burn my ears. Heaven knows there was no love making taking place. "..and we'll just see how far 'long we get before we have to take a break for a while, okay?" He stepped away, and motioned into the crowd. The first prisoner stepped up, the second man to rape my wife in just a few minutes time. He was a swarthy Latino man, tattooed and muscular, though slight. He dropped his pants and stepped out of them. The hoots and catcalls started, the men of course acting like the beasts they were, taunting him, me, Denise, and lord knows who else...I found myself drawn to the action somehow, hating my intense desire that had overcome my better judgement. He fisted his cock as he walked up and slid it into my wife's vagina. She groaned again through her gag. His ass pistoned back and forth, fucking into her with controlled lust. He reached up and grabbed her breasts in his hands, roughly kneading them and twisting Denise's nipples. I heard him grunt and curse as he enjoyed the sport of fucking another man's wife, a beautiful wife who lay helpless beneath him. Exercising more control than Jackson just had, he seemed to pummel at her for several minutes, sometimes slowing down to enjoy the warmth and wetness of her, sometimes speeding up and jack-hammering into her like a madman. Finally, though, his ass clenched and he pushed all the way into her, and again I watched helplessley as another load of vile prisoner semen was splattered into my Denise. He leaned over to roughly kiss and bite at her left breast, and then slowly pulled himself out of her. I felt the gun barrel at my neck give a slight push, and I realized that I had to make a mark on the clipboard. I drew a small line. I don't know how I made it through the next hour. I watched in vile fascination as man after man walked up and emptied his balls in my wife. I watched black men, white men, small men, large men, all felons like me, all prisoners, thrust their cocks in to her over and over again. To my horror, I believe that after the fourth or fifth man had come and roughly spilled his sperm into Denise, she began to respond. Her body overcame her mind, and she started to respond. It was hardly noticeable at first, but as I watched penis after penis breach the portals of her vagina, her hips began to move up to meet them. Perhaps it was just that she'd given up and retreated into an almost catatonic state, and her body was simply reacting to the stimulus without any conscious regard. But it was real. I watched the growing river of cum seep out of her and drip wetly from the juncture of her thighs. Each man seemed to push more and more of the wetness out. The cam beneath her hips eleveated her just enough so that she would drain out a bit. Her pussy lips were red and bruised, but I never, thankfully, saw any blood. Some men took fiendish delight in pounding in to her with abandon. The ones with what appeared to be larger cocks, especially. I knew her delicate inner lining was getting raw from all the pounding. There was one large ogre who pounded in to her for what seemed like hours, over and over, drawing the length of his cock out of her and then shoving it forcefully back in. When he reached his peak, he suddenly yanked his cock out of her and spurted several large streams of semen up her splayed body. I watched the white clumps smack wetly into the slopes of her breasts and drip downwards, trailing white lines that seemed to cascade off her like snowy rivers. He started a trend, and several of the next dozen or so men did the same, showering her almost nude body with their seed. It seeped down her ribcage and splattered across the length of her body. It pooled in her navel. Several streamers even reached up to smack wetly against her face. Were it not for the gag, I'm sure that her mouth would have tasted their salty semen. I recorded each devilish ejaculation. Within the first hour, 32 men emptied themselves into, and in some cases, onto my wife. I had gotten one month of my sentence worked off. I looked at my poor Denise. Her body was criss-crossed with lines of drying cum. It trailed off both breasts, and lay wetly across her stomach and pubic area. Her nylons and garter belt were still intact, but both had become almost saturated with semen, from her thighs up. One garter clip had come undone from the rough pounding. Her angelic face had several large globs of semen dotting it, both cheekbones were layed with sperm, and one large drop had hit her forehead, spreading out to dry and crust on her skin.It dotted even her hair, sparkling drops of white wetness that seemed to cling like dew. I thanked god for the gag in her mouth. Denise hated the taste of sperm, it was one thing I had always resented about our lovemaking. No matter how I pleaded, she would never allow me to cum in her mouth. I knew I would feel absolutely horrible if the semen she first tasted was from a convicted criminal, instead of me. The rapes went on. Sometimes, as a man enjoyed himself between her legs, other men wold gather around her and jerk off, spraying their wet semen onto her body. But most seemed content to wait their turn at her pussy. Two hours into the ordeal, I had made 57 marks on the clipboard. What seemed like pints of gluey semen were dripping from my wife's abused vagina, and even more decorated her body. I looked around, and the crowd of men had not seemed to dissipate at all. Hundreds of prisoners were being herded in to the area, all under the watchful eyes of a dozen or more guards. I saw Jackson leering down at us from his perch on the third floor. I could hear Denise moaning under her gag as she was repeatedly gang raped. And yet, I could not mistake the sounds. She was responding to the evil sex after all. How could she? How could my wife be enjoying this terrible ordeal? I searched for answers, but found none. Time wore on. When I had one hundred marks on the board, a guard who had been watching the last few men turned and made a motion up to Jackson. I heard a siren sound, and the men pulled away from my wife for a moment. Nothing was said to me until Jackson again appeared at my side. "Well now, that's not bad. Not bad at all.." he said, motioning to the clipboard. "One hundred of mah fine specimens of manhood have delighted in the charms of yore lovely wife." He pointed at her body. Denise was twitching rapidly back and forth, her body covered with sweat and cum. The river of cum draining from her abused pussy made a small pool at the base of the platform. It drained off her body on all sides, clumping wetly. Her marvelous breasts were all but covered in it, red and raw from being pawed and handled. It pooled in the nape of her neck. I could barely even look at her face. Streams of cum lay tangled and drying, crusting on her skin. The semen clogged her eyes and nose, I could see her bubbling breath escaping her nose in agonized wheezes. "Ah think it's time to take a break for a while, don't you?" He motioned for one of the guards. The guard moved up and roughly pulled the gag away from Denise, gingerly trying not to touch the commingled sperm covering her. "uhhh..oh god....." she mumbled. She was incoherent. "Yore wife surely does have a tremendous amount of that messy jizzum all over her, doesn't she?" he cackled at me. "Wah, if I didn't know better, I'd say she's wasted a lot of it, don't y'all think? Such a shame." I could only look at him in disbelief and disgusted wonder. He nodded again to the guard. He reached down below the plaform and brought up some odd looking device. Placing it behind Denise's head, he pushed forward with it. It forced her head up and clamped down on either side. She was immobilized, unable to turn her head to either side or relax it back in line with her prone body. Her neck must have been painfully stretched to have her head tilted at such and angle. I heard her moan again. The sperm on her face that hadn't already dried to a flaky crust began to drool downwards. "Ah think we'll give her little snatch a rest for a while, huh? She must be awfully thirsty after this ordeal, don'cha think? Think she might like a little drink or two?" I could only guess at what he had in mind. "We're gonna have a little game go on now - we call it 'spray the bitch's face' - ah'm sure you'all gonna enjoy it, won't ya?" I shuddered. Denise was about to experience the very thing she hated most. End of Part Two
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