wrestlingclown
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Apr 19, 2012
- Messages
- 198
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I was thinking about the article I was going to write on the unfair conviction and imprisonment of Claudia Fleming when I got lost in the State Correctional Institute for Women. The corridors seemed like a maze, and I couldn't remember which way the entrance/exit was. I wandered for a while, smelling the strong anti-septic odor of the chemicals they used to keep the floors spotless. I went down one long empty corridor and ran into a large female prison guard coming around the corner. She was wearing a tight black skirt and a white button down blouse smartly tucked in. She stood over 6 feet tall, several inches taller than me, and she had very large bosoms.
"What are you doing here?" she asked. "No man is allowed in this part of the prison."
"I'm a reporter for the Daily Herald. I was interviewing a prisoner and got lost trying to find my way out."
She gave me a stern look. Her eyes narrowed behind her glasses as if she was suspicious.
"I don't accept your explanation," she said.
"Look. Here's my press pass," I said.
She looked at it.
"This gives you access to the visitation room, not this part of the prison."
She took her handcuffs off her belt.
"Turn around. I'm going to detain you until I can verify your story."
Much to my annoyance, I complied, and she handcuffed my hands behind my back. Then she frisked me and it tickled. I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing. This predicament gave me a boner.
She grabbed my elbow and led me back to her office. She told me to sit in the chair opposite her desk, and she took another pair of cuffs out of her desk drawer and cuffed my left ankle to the chair leg. She began walking back and forth in front of me. I could see her fat butt jiggling under her skirt. My erection returned.
"We don't allow men in this part of the prison," she lectured as she continued pacing in front of me. "It's not safe. Many of the women prisoners are desperate for a man."
She stopped walking and stared at me.
"They might kidnap a man and hide him in their cell."
"I understand. Just call somebody. They'll verify..."
"Silence. I did not give you permission to speak."
I started to get nervous. I thought it was only going to take a few minutes to make a quick phone call and I would have been out of here. Instead, it occurred to me that this woman might be psychopathic.
"The women here could kidnap you, hide you in their cell, and take turns tickling you. How would you like that?"
"I think I could escape."
She smiled at me.
"So you think you could escape. We'll put that to the test."
She locked her office door, then sat behind her desk.
"Try to escape from that chair. I'll give you 10 minutes. If you can escape, I'll let you go."
She looked at her wristwatch and set the timer.
I tried to twist and squirm free of the cuffs behind my back to no avail.
"Look, just call the front. Or call the Daily Herald."
"Silence. You do not have permission to speak."
She did paperwork and ignored me, while I struggled to get free. I felt ridiculous and wondered what was going to happen after 10 minutes passed. Would she finally make that phone call?
The timer buzzed and I was no closer to escaping than I'd been 10 minutes earlier. She put her pen down and looked at me, a slight smile on her face.
"Are you ticklish?" she asked.
I didn't answer, alarmed at the suggestion.
"I ask because on one occasion some of our prisoners held a man hostage for over a month and he was severely ticklish. How would you like it if a whole cell block of women tickled you every night? By the time we found the man, he'd gone insane."
She walked around her desk toward me. I stood and dragged the chair a little way away from her.
"Sit down," she ordered.
I felt intimidated and sat, anxious over what I feared she would do to me. She got close, her huge breasts hovering over my head. She untucked my shirt and put her hands under it. She tickled my belly. I squirmed and grunted.
"Please don't do this," I begged.
"I want you to know what it feels like to be held hostage by female prisoners. I'm just one woman. Imagine a dozen doing this to you."
Her fingers were relentless and I couldn't stop them. I burst out laughing. I stood, my head contacting her big tits. She pushed me back down and sat on my lap, her legs straddling my hips. Her weight held me down firmly--she outweighed me by 30 pounds. She put her hands under my shirt again and tickled my underarms.
"Pleaseeheehee. Ahahahahastopahahaha."
She tickled my sides and I giggled into her cleavage that appeared after a button came loose. She unzipped my fly and pulled my hard-on out. She quickly stood and pulled her panties off. She raised her skirt and sat down on my cock. She spread her lips and I reflexively humped, my penis inside her wet pussy.
She smothered me with kisses as she rode me slowly. I felt embarrassed, enjoying being completely out of control.
"I just want to discourage you from wandering around my prison...for your own good," she said between moans.
I orgasmed.
She freed me, gave me the directions out of the building, and warned me never to tell anyone about what happened or she would find me and put me in the cellblock of her prison that had the cruelest felons.
"What are you doing here?" she asked. "No man is allowed in this part of the prison."
"I'm a reporter for the Daily Herald. I was interviewing a prisoner and got lost trying to find my way out."
She gave me a stern look. Her eyes narrowed behind her glasses as if she was suspicious.
"I don't accept your explanation," she said.
"Look. Here's my press pass," I said.
She looked at it.
"This gives you access to the visitation room, not this part of the prison."
She took her handcuffs off her belt.
"Turn around. I'm going to detain you until I can verify your story."
Much to my annoyance, I complied, and she handcuffed my hands behind my back. Then she frisked me and it tickled. I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing. This predicament gave me a boner.
She grabbed my elbow and led me back to her office. She told me to sit in the chair opposite her desk, and she took another pair of cuffs out of her desk drawer and cuffed my left ankle to the chair leg. She began walking back and forth in front of me. I could see her fat butt jiggling under her skirt. My erection returned.
"We don't allow men in this part of the prison," she lectured as she continued pacing in front of me. "It's not safe. Many of the women prisoners are desperate for a man."
She stopped walking and stared at me.
"They might kidnap a man and hide him in their cell."
"I understand. Just call somebody. They'll verify..."
"Silence. I did not give you permission to speak."
I started to get nervous. I thought it was only going to take a few minutes to make a quick phone call and I would have been out of here. Instead, it occurred to me that this woman might be psychopathic.
"The women here could kidnap you, hide you in their cell, and take turns tickling you. How would you like that?"
"I think I could escape."
She smiled at me.
"So you think you could escape. We'll put that to the test."
She locked her office door, then sat behind her desk.
"Try to escape from that chair. I'll give you 10 minutes. If you can escape, I'll let you go."
She looked at her wristwatch and set the timer.
I tried to twist and squirm free of the cuffs behind my back to no avail.
"Look, just call the front. Or call the Daily Herald."
"Silence. You do not have permission to speak."
She did paperwork and ignored me, while I struggled to get free. I felt ridiculous and wondered what was going to happen after 10 minutes passed. Would she finally make that phone call?
The timer buzzed and I was no closer to escaping than I'd been 10 minutes earlier. She put her pen down and looked at me, a slight smile on her face.
"Are you ticklish?" she asked.
I didn't answer, alarmed at the suggestion.
"I ask because on one occasion some of our prisoners held a man hostage for over a month and he was severely ticklish. How would you like it if a whole cell block of women tickled you every night? By the time we found the man, he'd gone insane."
She walked around her desk toward me. I stood and dragged the chair a little way away from her.
"Sit down," she ordered.
I felt intimidated and sat, anxious over what I feared she would do to me. She got close, her huge breasts hovering over my head. She untucked my shirt and put her hands under it. She tickled my belly. I squirmed and grunted.
"Please don't do this," I begged.
"I want you to know what it feels like to be held hostage by female prisoners. I'm just one woman. Imagine a dozen doing this to you."
Her fingers were relentless and I couldn't stop them. I burst out laughing. I stood, my head contacting her big tits. She pushed me back down and sat on my lap, her legs straddling my hips. Her weight held me down firmly--she outweighed me by 30 pounds. She put her hands under my shirt again and tickled my underarms.
"Pleaseeheehee. Ahahahahastopahahaha."
She tickled my sides and I giggled into her cleavage that appeared after a button came loose. She unzipped my fly and pulled my hard-on out. She quickly stood and pulled her panties off. She raised her skirt and sat down on my cock. She spread her lips and I reflexively humped, my penis inside her wet pussy.
She smothered me with kisses as she rode me slowly. I felt embarrassed, enjoying being completely out of control.
"I just want to discourage you from wandering around my prison...for your own good," she said between moans.
I orgasmed.
She freed me, gave me the directions out of the building, and warned me never to tell anyone about what happened or she would find me and put me in the cellblock of her prison that had the cruelest felons.
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