October 2015

< News travels quickly in this place, bad news I found out travels quicker. The whispers and furtive, sideways looks at breakfast time told me that there have been a development. I could imagine what was being said, if I were in their position I would probably be thinking the same. Of course, they left it to the king to deliver her decision. >

***

“Well, the lady called,” Dolan said, standing in front of my cell door with this contented, self-satisfied grin on his face, “not really a huge surprise under the circumstances.”

“What did you tell her ?”

“Oh, the truth. You wouldn’t want us to lie to her would you Christopher. She was given the details of what she will be expected to do for us, and what would happen to you if she refused. We told her that you have already done, that you have sucked a man’s cock, and that if she didn’t comply then soon you would be put to work as one of this prison's whores. Are you aware of the service that they provide ?” I was, or at least I had heard the rumours. Men who are taken down into the boiler room or into the shower block, there they are met by a gang of inmates, I’ll leave the rest to your imagination. Those who refuse are sometimes so badly beaten that they never return. Those who do bare the scars and disabilities for the rest of their lives.

“What did she say ?” As I spoke, the words caught in my throat, and I clenched my fists in the vain hope of stemming the tears that were brimming on my eyelashes.

“She isn’t stupid Christopher, of course, she agreed. I mean having seen your physical state how could she not. Over the years I have observed a certain pattern, and from what I have been told it appears your wife is no different. I have witnessed it so many times, it has no social barrier, from the lowest scrubber, to on one occasion a high court judge's wife. That was quite a spectacular transformation, Christopher, lady muck on her knees in the drawing-room, sucking on the cock of a black man. It seems to me that all the women go a little weak at the knees when they see what’s on offer. She may act coy at first, feel that she is above all the others and try to resist, but in the end, she will submit. I told you that she would move on, didn’t I? After this, she will never be the same.”

I was numb and the part of my brain that registered relief for myself was crushed by the realisation of what it had cost. I could feel the eyes of every inmate on my wing judging me. They all knew the truth and what I had sacrificed to save my own skin, and the weeks that followed were as uncomfortable as any I had experienced there.

I had no idea what might have happened to me if either Olivia had ignored the note, or hadn’t agreed to their demands, but I could imagine. I saw the fear in the eyes of so many here, their spirit broken both mentally and physically by the constant threat.

***

< When the visitor's bell rang out again today, I didn’t want to leave my cell – how could I face her? It felt like déjà vu, sitting in the same seat, and at the same table as I had done the last time I saw her, as I had done when I betrayed her trust and like Judas, I had passed her the note. When I saw her, her face bore little expression. She looked lost, her eyes searching the room, then the familiar thin, lopsided smile of hers finally appeared as saw me. >

***

“You okay?” I ventured as she took her seat, really not knowing what her reaction would be. There was a part of me that expected her to slap my face, part of me that would have welcomed it, I for one couldn’t blame her. I had dozens of questions that I wanted to ask, but Olivia had other plans.

“We’ve come to an agreement,” she began, and immediately I felt a sense of dread wash over me as I tried to work out what exactly that entailed.

“Has … have ?”

“No.” She said shaking her head then looking into my eyes. “No.”

“Livy.”

“I know. Everything is going to be fine Chris. But I don’t want you to know anything. The less you know the better for everyone. Trust me.”

The weeks after that meeting were at best torturous. I understood the reasoning, or at least I think I did. Keeping me in the dark reduced the chances of being implicated if it all went wrong, but the silence and anticipation that accompanied it was unbearable. Every time I saw Dolan on the landing or one of his toadies, I tried to read their body language for clues. But as the days rolled into weeks there was nothing from anybody, no one was breaking ranks.

***

< Had a visit last night from one of Dolan’s mob, which immediately set me on edge, worried that something had happened to Olivia. He gave me a mobile phone which I know are banned here, in fact just having one in your cell is a major violation which could result in having your privileges suspended or worse, having your sentence extended. What the phone contained has shaken me and has brought home exactly what we have committed ourselves to. >

***

“Is she okay?” I asked in as measured a tone as I could. He didn’t reply. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the iPhone.

“Here,” he grunted, handing the phone across to me, “bet you bust a nut.” As he left, I quickly hid the phone under my pillow. Charlie was sick, he had a chest infection or something, and was at the local hospital, so I knew I would have a little privacy when I viewed whatever it was on the phone.

After lights out, I buried myself under the covers to hide the glare from the screen. Written in the back casing was what a assumed to be the phone’s passcode, 7391. I typed it in then scrolled through the apps looking for where they would have installed whatever it was that they wanted me to see.

On the second page was one titled simply, ‘vault,’ the icon was of a safe with a key inserted. I tapped it then entered the same code as the one I used to open the phone. Shazam.

It contained one video in the top left-hand corner of the screen, I stared at the small square realising the significance of this moment, my hand visibly shaking as I tapped play.

The picture showed a dimly lit bedroom, a large double bed in the middle with bedside tables and lamps on either side. The camera then became a little shaky as the phone moved quickly around the room, the person holding it in their hand was out of shot, but I could hear the rustle of the bed covers and the sound of a woman’s muffled voice. I held my breath and put the small speaker to my ear, adjusting the volume to as high as I dare.

“Do you know why you’re here?” A man’s voice asked.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“To help my husband.” A lump caught in my throat as I heard the answer, the awareness of what was happening and what she was doing for me all too clear.

“What are you here to do?” I could feel the phone sliding on my sweaty palms and used my right hand to steady it. The pause before she spoke seemed eternal. When it came, it only added to my inner turmoil as she appeared confused.

“Pardon?”

“Tell me what we are going to do.”

“Do you want me to say it?”

“Yes.”

“You’re going to fuck me.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“I want you to fuck me.” Her voice carried little emotion, sounding very much like she was resigned to whatever came next. The phone was then passed to someone else, making me realise that there were two people with her in the room. Whoever it was stepped back toward the window, the curtains were closed, the sun outside shining through, giving the room a dim crimson glow.

The film then jumped forward in a clumsy edit. There was a woman on the bed, she was naked, and her large, pale breasts hung down as she knelt on all fours. But it wasn’t my wife, this wasn’t Olivia.  In fact, the two women couldn’t have been more dissimilar. This woman was blond, voluptuous with big heaving breasts. Olivia is slim with an almost boyish frame and shoulder-length dark brown hair.

Behind her was a well-built black man who slapped her bare bottom forcefully as he fucked her. The third person was holding the camera and began to ask her questions. Questions that no husband ever wants to hear answered.

“You like, Amanda?” Her head remain bowed, buried in the white pillow. The man behind her grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her up showing her face to the camera. She was pretty, I guessed she was in her early thirties, and she looked lost in a world of her own, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was being filmed.

“Do you want him to stop?”

“No.”

“What do you want, Amanda?”

“I want him to keep doing that.”

“Doing what?” As he asked the question her body began to shake.

“I’m cumming” she whined.

“What is making you cum?”

“Mmm, his cock.” The woman was then turned on to her back, the camera pointing down her body showing the thick black cock that was gliding in and out of her, the wet evidence of her recent orgasm shining on his dark skin.

“How many times has he fucked you?” She shook her head and smiled in reply. “How many?”

“Twice.”

“Is this the biggest cock you’ve had?”

“Yes.”

“How big?” Again, she shook her head, her breasts swaying on her chest as this huge cock thrust into her, but this time she looked up into the camera’s eye.

“Big.” She breathed.

“Bigger than your husband?”

“Yes,” she nodded. The holder of the camera placed his cock over her face, his balls hanging down, rubbing against her forehead. Eagerly she took him in both her hands and guided him into her mouth.

“What do you want, Amanda?”

“I want you to cum.”

“Where?”

“Wherever you want, I don’t care. In my mouth, over my face, over my tits, in me.”

“And then what do you want?”

“I want …” the woman stopped abruptly as another violent orgasm ripped through her body. The camera recorded her outstretched legs spasming, gripped by the hands of the unseen assailant.

“And then what do you want?” she was asked again as her orgasm subsided.

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Tell me. Tell your husband what a slut he married.” I listened as her voice became strained and demanding.

“I want you to fuck me with your big fucking black fucking cocks.”

“Where?”

“I don’t care. Do it.”

“Where?”

“My cunt. My mouth. Do it.” The man removed his cock and began to masturbate over her face, aiming thick ropes of cum down over her body. This was followed by his mate who crouched over her stomach and exploded over her breasts. That was where the film abruptly ended.

My heart was pounding hard in my chest. The message that they were sending was clear. It was a cruel tease. This wasn’t Olivia, but it could have been, and soon I knew that it was going to be. I hurriedly tapped the screen again, holding the phone in my left hand while stroking my cock with my right. It was a shameless act, taking pleasure from another man’s misfortune, but it had been so long.

The phone vibrated in my hand, sending a message.

Unknown: “Bet you’ve got that little white dick in your hand. Are you wondering how Olivia reacted to having a real cock inside her?  Or maybe she hasn’t had the opportunity yet, I’ll let you decide. All white women behave the same when a black cock is offered to them. Your wife is no different.”

I read the text over again, focusing on the keywords ‘reacted,’ ‘black cock,’ and ‘no different.’ I had no control over the direction and speed that this was going, all I could do was wait and wonder.

To my shame as I replayed the film, I replaced this hapless woman’s features with that of Olivia’s, my wife’s voice saying the words that came out of this woman’s mouth.

***

< I have no way of knowing what is happening outside of these prison walls. For all I know, at this very moment, Olivia is in a bedroom with those men, locked away in here, I have no idea. One thing is apparent though – if it hasn’t already happened, then it soon will and I am powerless to do anything about it.

I find it hard to comprehend, how it has come to this. My shy, unassuming wife, the wonderful mother of my two gorgeous children, the respected school assistant, is going to be reduced to this. >