Ravensbourne Correctional Institution is one of the 33 prison in the state and is a minimum security institution, where the inmates are not confided to cells in tiers like in Lancaster Correctional Institution, one of the large max security prisons. The inmates were housed in army barracks type wards of which there were five at BCI. In all the wards there were steel bunk beds, tall lockers and foot lockers. Each ward housed 54 inmates each and each ward was assigned three ward officers who was supervised by a ward sergeant while the shift was run by a Lieutenant and a senior sergeant holding the rank of Master Sergeant.
Sgt. Dexter Grant reported to Ward 3 for the third shift. Midnight to 8 am. His three officers were already on post and in the officer's station waiting for their briefing. Sgt. Grant was a 6ft 6in tall African American man with a shiny shaved bald head and a neat trimmed goatee. As always he was sharply dressed in his uniform. Military creases on his starched white unifrom shirt with his sergeant chevons on the sleeve shoulder. His black pants pressed and creased and bloused into his highly polished black boots.
After briefing his officers he sent two of them out to check the ward perimeter outside and around the ward while he would make a security check inside the ward leaving one officer inside the the ward officer to monitor the phones and to perform a ward radio check to the main institution base station.
Sgt. Grant walked out of the office into the semi-dark ward. There were two rows of bunk beds one row on his right and one row on his left about twelve on each side. After years of working the night shift, Sgt. Grant could see in the dim light and he tell who was asleep and who was faking just by the sound of their breathing. By the sounds of the bunk bed's creaking he could tell who was moving in their sleep and who was jacking off in the bed. He knew everything about the ward and the assigned inmates including who were snitches, who were dealing in contraband. He even knew who was ticklish. Reaching into his shirt pocket he pulled out a ball point pin. With a sadistic smile on his face he began his rounds.
Top Bunk number 6 was Sgt. Grants first stop. The bed of Inmate Ricky Young, who was serving a six year sentence five still to do. Ricky was thirty years old, a five foot 9 in. tall Canadian man with a thin trimmed mustache. This was one of Sgt. Grant's first stops on his round. Young slept with his feet poking out of the sheets of his bed with his two size 11 sweaty feet easy targets for his pen. One time city executive had been sentenced for corruption.
Grant stood at the Ricky Young's feet and listened much like a cat. Young was fast asleep, snoring softly. Grant looked Young's feet, ten tiny toes nicely rounded. No long toe nails, which Grant hated, and very soft and tender. Using his pen, Sgt. Grant lightly traced a line down Young's tender soles. Ricky Young wiggled his toes and jerked his foot. Grant smiled and did the same to his other foot with the same reaction. Grant began moving his pen in random patterns around Ricky Young's feet alternating between one and the next. Each time Ricky Young's tender toes would wiggle and his feet would twitch and soon his soft snoring was replaced with soft giggling and sighs.
Sgt. Grant brought the point of his pen between the inmates toes and had to remove his pen quickly before his pen was caught between Ricky Young's toes as they crinkled but Sgt. Grant didn't stop as he gently poked and tickled his feet with his pen. Young jerked and twitched and wiggled and his giggles were becoming laughs. Not too loud but audible. Ricky worked his feet against the onslaught as he wiggled and moved his feet trying to get away from the vicious, tickling attack. He giggled and laughed in his deep sleep and Sgt. Grant stopped and replaced his fingers with the pen and began slowly dragging his finger nails up and down the feet. Rick Young jerked his feet so much that he should have woke up but Grant knew how hard a sleeper Rick Young was and he had no worries. Sgt. Grant stopped his assault and moved on with his round.
The next bunk bed he reached was bed number 8. The bed of Inmate 236578...Desmond Wilson. Desmond Wilson was one of the younger inmates at Blackville. He was 19 years old mixed race American - Jamaican so having a lightly tanned complexion and doing five years on possession of crack. He was tall, 6ft 3in and a lean body from playing basketball. His hair was dredlocked and he sported a goatee but he still had his boyish face. Sgt. Grant had wanted to tickle Wilson's feet since he transfered to Blackville two months ago but usually his bed was so tightly made and tucked in at the foot of the bed that Grant would have to untuck the sheets and he wasn't about to do all that but this night, young Wilson's sheets were untucked much to Sgt. Grant's delight. Putting his pen back into his pocket he pulled back the sheet from around both feet and much to his chagrin Wilson was wearing socks on his size 14 feet. Though he could have tickled his feet through his socks, Sgt. Grant didn't want to do that. He had come this far and he was not going to wait. Reaching up to the top of the right sock he slowly began to pull it off, careful not to wake him up. As the sock slowly slid of his right foot it revealed a very warm and sweaty foot. With a smile he removed the other sock, not as slowly and when the sock slid off, Wilson flexed and wiggled his stinky toes.
Sgt. Grant went to work on both feet with his fingers touched and tracing lines around his tender soles. Desmond Wilson's feet jumped and jerked so violently that Grant had to look around to see if anyone woke up. He then returned to his task as he wiggled his fingers over Wilson's toes. Wilson's body wiggled and he moaned and giggled. This drove Grant on as he continued to tickle both young tender feet with his fingers and the young inmate laughed and wiggled. Grant stopped tickling Wilson's feet and as he looked at them he moved in close and began licking them with his tongue. Wilson's reaction was not as explosive but it was clear that it tickled and when he worked his tongue in between Wilson's toes, the young inmate yelped in a burst of laughter. Sgt. Grant continued his tongue tickling as Wilson continued to moan and laugh and wiggle until he woke up.
"Hey Sarge!? Whatcha doin' tickling me?" Wilson demanded.
Sgt. Grant remained cool as he stepped back and removed his walkie talkie.
"Ward 3 officers report to ward 3 bay area. Ward 3 to Supervisor 2." Grant spoke.
"Supervisor 2 here." came the voice through the walkie talkie.
"Sergeant Collier. I have one for special management unit." Sgt. Grant said.
"Okay, Sgt. Grant. You know the drill. Hook' em, cook' em, book' em. I will contact SMU. Need any back up?"
"Negative. We have it under control." Sgt. Grant said.
"10-4. See ya in SMU."
"Yes sir. Out." Grant said.
"Hey? What's up with all that? What's goin' on?"
"Wilson you are going to my special little space in SMU where I can continue what I started." He said with a sinister smile.
The two officers appeared next to Sgt. Grant with in minutes and soon Desmond Wilson was handcuffed and on his way to SMU. Sgt. Grant couldn't wait because he had plans for the handsome lad
Special Management Unit or SMU is where inmates who break the rules of the institution and the agency or whose presence amongst the inmate population is a risk to the safety and security of the institution, fellow inmates, the staff, and/or the general public.
The special management unit is a seperate housing unit away from the general population of the Blackville general population inmates. SMU houses a total of 12 inmates on a short term basis, which is no more than 30 days. Longer terms in SMU require transporting the inmate to Lancaster, North or one of the other 20 max or medium max prisons.
Desmond Wilson still did not know why he was going to SMU or as the inmates on the yard called it, Lock Up. One minute he was fast asleep having a nice dream about him and his boy kicking it like they use to on the DL. Then, in the dream, his boy, Q, jumps on him and begins tickling his feet and shit except it felt to real to be a dream. When he opens his eyes there is Sgt. Grant with his toes in his mouth and his tongue tickling him and he asked the only question he could. Wassup?
Next thing he knows he is being handcuffed and taken to lock up. When they took him in front of Lieutenant Maxcy Leigh, he considered snitching on the sarge but who was going to believe him when he told them that. They handed him his copy of the charge paper and sent him on his way with two officers to SMU.
They arrived at the special management unit and one of the officers rang the buzzer to SMU and within seconds another officer arrived at the door and opened it. They escorted him inside SMU and Desmond was facing two big sergeants. One was Sgt. Grant, the one locking him up. The second was Sergeant Luther G. Collier called Big C by the inmates on the yard and there was no doubt about it. Sergeant Collier stood 6ft 5in tall and well over 300 pounds of solid mass and muscle. He was a stern, grim faced black man with a trimmed full beard and mustache with flecks of gray. He also sported a bald head though his hair was growing back. No one crossed Big C and no one question him either. It was well known that the chain of command at Blackville was the warden ran the institution but Big C was The Man.
"Welcome to SMU, Desmond Wilson." Collier said, his voice deep and powerful as James Earl Jones and as friendly as a shotgun.
"Hey Big C..."
"WHAT!" rumbled Sgt. Grant, "You address him by his rank and name inmate Wilson. Master Sergeant Collier."
"I'm sorry, Sir Sergeant Collier, Sir, why am I being locked up. I didn't do nothing." Wilson pleaded.
Collier and Grant laughed.
"Inmate Wilson," Collier replied, "You are being locked up because you are a threat to the safety and security of the population and the insitution."
"Man...I mean, Sir, I didn't do anything. I was asleep and the next thing I know..."
"I don't want to hear what you have to say," Collier said cutting him off. "Crying to me won't help you at all. SMU is your home for at least the next two weeks until the hearing officer hears your case."
"This isn't fair." Wilson cried.
Collier loomed over him and looked down at the smaller inmate. "Mr. Wilson, Sgt. Grant has informed me that not only are you a threat but that you are a danger to yourself. Therefore, after Officer Harrison is finished strip searching you, you will be placed in our suicide cell. No linen, no clothing, and shackled hands and feet, four point restraints as it were. Now, you have any more questions?"
Wilson looked into Sgt Collier's cold dark eyes and shook his head. Collier flashed an unamused gold toothed smile.
"Good. Harrison, strip' em and shackle 'em down for the night." Sgt. Collier ordered. As the massive sergeant made his way to the door he stopped and looked back. "Sgt. Grant, the regular SMU Sgt. is out sick and Officer Harrison is leaving early. I'm gonna reassign you to SMU for the remainder of the shift with officer Wayne. Call me if you need me or LT." Sgt. Collier left.
Desmond Wilson went into the shakedown room with Officer Harrison and after the strip search was done he has handed a paper gown to wear and he was handcuffed again. They came out of the shakedown room to find Sgt. Grant holding the cell keys.
"Officer Harrison, why don't you get on out of here. I can put Inmate Wilson in his cell."
"Are you sure, Sir?" Harrison asked already grabbing his things.
"Yeah, cut out and tell Officer Wayne to take his break. I'll call Sgt. Collier or the Ward 5 Sgt. if I need anything." Grant said.
"Okay. Well, have a good shift sir." Harrison said heading to the door.
"Good night, Harrison."
Cell #1 in SMU was designated as the suicide cell. It was here that they kept inmates who demostrated suicidal tendencies. It was in this cell that they were placed and observed every fifteen minutes. In extreme cases they were placed in four point restraints. Laying on their back spread eagle with their wrists and ankles cuffed.
Sgt. Grant escorted Inmate Wilson into the cell and shackled him down in the restraints. He then stood over the young inmate a smile on his face.
"Hey Sarge? Wassup, man? Why are you doing this?"
Sgt. Grant reached down and ripped off the paper gown exposing Wilson's naked body.
"Hey! Hey, man! Wassup? Why are you doing this?" Wilson demanded, panic in his voice.
"Why Wilson, why? Simply because....I can."
Sgt. Grant pounced on Wilson tickling and poking his ribs and stomach. Wilson roared with immediate laughter.
"Ahhhhhhh hahahahahahahahaha! NOOOOOOOOOOOO! STOP! STOP! STOP...HA HA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Wilson screamed and laughed as he tried to fight against the restraints holding him. Sgt. Grant's fingers danced all over his ribs and stomach and he screamed and begged for mercy. He had been tickled before but not like this. Not restrained and unable to escape or protect himself. He was 100% helpless. All he could do was laugh and scream and beg.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OOOOOOH! OOOOOOOOOH! PLEASE...HEHEHEHEHEHEHE.....P..P..PLEA...HEHEHEHEHEHEHE...HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Sgt. Grant wiggled one of his fingers in Wilson's belly button and the lad yelled as if he was being murdered.
"OOOOOH NOOOO! No! NO! Not my belly button! hahahahahahahahaha! Pleeeeeeeeseeeee! Pleeeeeeeeseeee! ...oh no stop! hahahahahahahahahahahaha! Oh shit! Oh shit! oh shit! hahahahahahahahahahaha! NOOOOOOOOOO! Not my belly button.....anything...oh! hahahahahahahahaha!"
Sgt. Grant's unforgiving tickling didn't let up as he tickled Wilson's belly, ribs and up to his armpits. Desmond Wilson screamed and laughed as he tried to catch his breath between laughing and screaming. He wanted it to stop, it was hellish!
Suddenly Grant stopped and moved to the foot of the bed. Wilson looked down and he knew what was about to happen.
"Oh no, man. Please. Do my belly button. Do anything but not my feet....oh please, man. Anything but that."
Grant looked at Wilson and then shook his head as he sniffed both feet deeply and began tickling his feet. Wilson tried to bust loose from his restraints but he couldn't.
"Hahahahahahahahaha! no..no...no...not...m..my...feeeeeeeeet!...no...hahahahahahahahahahaha! stop...stop....oh...please...stop! hahahahahahahahahahahahaha!"
Sgt. Grant's fingers dancing over his feet was driving him out of his mind. He couldn't stand it. It was just too much.
"hahahahahahahahaha! hehehehehehehehehehehehe! OOOOOOOH G...G...God! hahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Oh Man! OH MAN! OH MAN! hahahahahahahahahahahaha!"
Grant's fingers danced and tickled his soles and in step and between his toes and around his ankles and heels. Wilson twitched and wiggled and screamed and tried to fight it off but he couldn't.
"Hahahahahahahaha! hehehehehehehehehehehe! hohohohohohohohohohhoho! hahahahahahahahahahahahaha! AHHHHHHHHHHH! Pleeeeeeeeeeeseeeeeeee! Pleeeeeeeeeseeeeeeee! STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!"
The tickling didn't stop and as he yelled and laughed and begged for mercy Grant told him how his sweaty warm feet excited him, their size, their smell, their ticklishness but his curiosity was how did they taste? Wilson couldn't believe what was happening as Grant was licking his secured soles and sucking his toes and nibbling and licking in between them all and making certain his tickling was vicious all over his body but a real fixation for his feet. Wilson screamed and laughed and giggled and begged and then Sgt Collier appeared outside the cell door.
Grant let him in and they whispered and then Collier spoke into the shoulder mic of his walkie talkie. "Interrogation Team this is Supervisor 2."
"Supervisor 2 this is I Team."
"Report to SMU ASAP. You know the cell."
"10-4."
"Sgt. Grant, bring the tools we will need for interrogation. Supervisor 2 out."
Wilson looked up at Sgt. Collier. Interrogation Team? He had never heard of an Interrogation Team. He was concerned but he wasn't going to show it.
"Hey, you gonna get me some clothes or am I going to be in this paper gown during this interrogation?" he said defiantly.
Collier stepped out of the cell and shut the door without speaking. Wilson restrained and unable to move as the realization of his situation and fear slowly over took him. Sgt. Grant and Sgt. Collier returned to the cell 10 minutes later with two other men but a corporal and an Officer First Class, both new faces strangers to Wilson. The corporal carried an aluminium brief case which he set down on the floor.
"H..hey what's going on here? You brought in your goon squad, Big C?" Desmond Wilson sneered.
Master Collier lowered his large frame into the only chair in the cell. "Officer Adams, Corporal Jackson begin setting up everything. There is an outlet in the hallway where you can plug in the power strip."
"Yes sir." Cpl. Jackson said as he and officer Adams went to work.
Cpl. Jackson and Officer Adams opened the case and pulled out a power strip which Sgt. Grant took and plugged it into the wall socket in the hall. Poet tried to see what they were doing.
"Sgt. Grant, Wilson is being nosy. Blindfold him please." Master Sgt. Collier said.
Sgt. Grant removed a blindfold and tied it around Wilson's head and covered his eyes.
"Hey! What y'all doing to me!?" Wilson demanded.
"Don't worry. You will know soon enough. You will find it interesting." Collier said.
The members of the Interrogation Team continued setting up. They removed various devices from the case to include a hand held heater, a drill with various specially designed drill bits that were made out of feathers, another had soft bristles, another had hard bristles and another made of hard plastic that resembled small fingers in a claw position. They also removed various tubes as well. The Corporal signalled to the Master Sgt that they were ready.
"Fine. Gentlemen. Heat them up." Collier ordered.
Officer Adams took the hand held heater and turned it on and aimed it at Wilsons exposed feet.
"Hey! What's goin' on? What's that you're doing?" Desmond Wilson demanded.
"Right now they are preparing you for interrogation." Collier said. " A special type of interrogation. Once I get the information I want...well, it will end."
Wilson could feet the soles of his feet heating up and all he could do was wiggle his toes and feet.
"Hey! Stop it! That's hot." Wilson protested.
Collier signalled them to stop. "Okay gentlemen let's get this done. Sgt. Grant and Officer Adams take your positions."
"What's going on?" Wilson demanded as the officers took their position at his feet. Unable to see, Wilson could not help feeling afraid. "Hey! Talk to me! What's going on!"
Collier nodded to the two officers who stood at Wilson's feet and immediately they began tickling his sensitive high arched feet.
"Hahahahahahahahahahaha! OOOOOOOOOH NOOOOOOOO! N..N..No..No tickling...hahahahahahahahahahaha!"Wilson screamed and roared with laughter as his feet were attacked by the fingers of two men. It was unimaginable the sensations going through hahahahhahahahahahahahaa him."Hahahahahaha..hehehehehehehehehe...OH GOD!! Pleeeeeeseeeeee....hahahahahahahahaha!hahahhahahahahahahhahhahahahhahahahaha
Not...N...Not....hahahahahahaha...N..N...Noooooooo.....ohohohohohohohohohoho!"
"Okay Wilson Answer me. Did you enjoy it when Sgt. Grant tickled you and yes especially on your feet?"
"F....F.....F....uck Youuuuuuuu....hahahahahahahahahahaha! Hahahahaha! ahhhhhhhhhhh! hehehehehehehehehehehe! hahahahahahahahaha! Pleeeeseeeeeeeee! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
"Cpl. Jackson, I think it's time for the drill." Collier ordered.
"D...Drill??? hahahahahahahahahaha! W...W...What...hahahahahahaha.....are....hahahahahaha...NOOOOOOOOO!!!!" Wilson yelled screamed and fought with no way to escape.
Cpl. Jackson handed Sgt. Grant the drill with one of the feather bits on it. He then started the drill and he brought the spinning feather bit to contact with his foot.
"YEOOOOOOOW....HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OOOOOH MYYYYYY GOD!!!!" Wilson exploded. "Pleeeeesseeeeee! Pleeeeeeseeeeeeee!"
"Tell me what I want to know. Answer my question." Collier said.
"I.....I.....hahahahahahahahaha.....P...P....P....Pleeee..hehehehehehehehe!" Wilson wanted to say it. He wanted to stop the tickling but he couldn't speak through all the laughing. He couldn't believe this was happening. Then suddenly he realized something. He was getting a hard on. At first he wasn't too concerned until he realized that he was wearing the paper gown.
"Hmmmmm," Sgt. Collier said, "It seems that Desmond Wilson is enjoying this after all. Is that the case? Tell me and it will stop."
Wilson couldn't speak. All he could do was laugh as the drill and the fingers went to work on his feet. He desperate for the insidious torture to stop! He tried to fight his restraints but he still could not free himself.
"Cpl. Jackson with these rising developments I think you need to replace Officer Adams at Wilson's feet. Officer Adams your on. It seems you were right about Mr. Wilson."
The two men traded positions. Officer Adams reached into the pouch on his side and removed a pair of rubber gloves. He then picked up one of the tubes which contained lube and applied some to his hand. He then ripped the paper gown off Wilson's body and revealing a lean and muscular tanned body and his throbbing and thick cock. Officer Adams gripped Wilson's cock and the young man gasped and his cock twitched and slowly the Officer began stroking his cock.
Desmond Wilson was losing his mind. Someone was jacking his dick and with his feet being tickled he was sure he was going to die. As the lubed hand slide up and down his cock, his feet were still being tickled. He couldn't form an intelligent words and it was hard to think with all this tactile stimulation. He tried to fight the feelings and sensations and to free himself but he couldn't. His laughter was now mixed in with moans and groans.
"Inmate Wilson. Do you want this to stop?" Collier asked.
"Hahahahahaha....ooohhhhhhh.....ahhhhhhhhhh...hehehehe!"
"Hmmm, sounds like a no to me. Oh well. " Collier said as he sat back and watched.
Wilson gritted his teeth and worked his hips as he felt the feeling that he knew well. He was about to cum. He moaned and groaned and laughed as the hellish torture continued.
"Ahhhhh! ahhhhhh! OOOOOOOh Shit!!!! hahahahahahaha....OH OH OH hehehehehehe!"
"Inmate Collier? Are you ready to end this? Do you want this to end? Then answer my question." Collier demanded.
Wilson yelled "Fuck You! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I'M CUMMMMMMMMMMMMINGGGGGGGGG!"
Wilson arched his body as his cock erupted hot blasts of cum into the air and onto his stomach and on the gloved hand of the officer. Wilson lay there panting and breathing heavily. Master Sgt. Collier slowly rose to his feet and leaned close to his ear.
" I am not done with you. You are mine. You are mine to torture as I please and the next time, you won't cum until I am ready for you to." Sgt. Collier stood up and addressed the officers.
"Gentlemen you may go and Grant you stay and clean him up and have fun with him and especially his feet!"
Desmond Wilson shuddered seeing Collier and Grant winking and smiling with each other!
Sgt. Dexter Grant reported to Ward 3 for the third shift. Midnight to 8 am. His three officers were already on post and in the officer's station waiting for their briefing. Sgt. Grant was a 6ft 6in tall African American man with a shiny shaved bald head and a neat trimmed goatee. As always he was sharply dressed in his uniform. Military creases on his starched white unifrom shirt with his sergeant chevons on the sleeve shoulder. His black pants pressed and creased and bloused into his highly polished black boots.
After briefing his officers he sent two of them out to check the ward perimeter outside and around the ward while he would make a security check inside the ward leaving one officer inside the the ward officer to monitor the phones and to perform a ward radio check to the main institution base station.
Sgt. Grant walked out of the office into the semi-dark ward. There were two rows of bunk beds one row on his right and one row on his left about twelve on each side. After years of working the night shift, Sgt. Grant could see in the dim light and he tell who was asleep and who was faking just by the sound of their breathing. By the sounds of the bunk bed's creaking he could tell who was moving in their sleep and who was jacking off in the bed. He knew everything about the ward and the assigned inmates including who were snitches, who were dealing in contraband. He even knew who was ticklish. Reaching into his shirt pocket he pulled out a ball point pin. With a sadistic smile on his face he began his rounds.
Top Bunk number 6 was Sgt. Grants first stop. The bed of Inmate Ricky Young, who was serving a six year sentence five still to do. Ricky was thirty years old, a five foot 9 in. tall Canadian man with a thin trimmed mustache. This was one of Sgt. Grant's first stops on his round. Young slept with his feet poking out of the sheets of his bed with his two size 11 sweaty feet easy targets for his pen. One time city executive had been sentenced for corruption.
Grant stood at the Ricky Young's feet and listened much like a cat. Young was fast asleep, snoring softly. Grant looked Young's feet, ten tiny toes nicely rounded. No long toe nails, which Grant hated, and very soft and tender. Using his pen, Sgt. Grant lightly traced a line down Young's tender soles. Ricky Young wiggled his toes and jerked his foot. Grant smiled and did the same to his other foot with the same reaction. Grant began moving his pen in random patterns around Ricky Young's feet alternating between one and the next. Each time Ricky Young's tender toes would wiggle and his feet would twitch and soon his soft snoring was replaced with soft giggling and sighs.
Sgt. Grant brought the point of his pen between the inmates toes and had to remove his pen quickly before his pen was caught between Ricky Young's toes as they crinkled but Sgt. Grant didn't stop as he gently poked and tickled his feet with his pen. Young jerked and twitched and wiggled and his giggles were becoming laughs. Not too loud but audible. Ricky worked his feet against the onslaught as he wiggled and moved his feet trying to get away from the vicious, tickling attack. He giggled and laughed in his deep sleep and Sgt. Grant stopped and replaced his fingers with the pen and began slowly dragging his finger nails up and down the feet. Rick Young jerked his feet so much that he should have woke up but Grant knew how hard a sleeper Rick Young was and he had no worries. Sgt. Grant stopped his assault and moved on with his round.
The next bunk bed he reached was bed number 8. The bed of Inmate 236578...Desmond Wilson. Desmond Wilson was one of the younger inmates at Blackville. He was 19 years old mixed race American - Jamaican so having a lightly tanned complexion and doing five years on possession of crack. He was tall, 6ft 3in and a lean body from playing basketball. His hair was dredlocked and he sported a goatee but he still had his boyish face. Sgt. Grant had wanted to tickle Wilson's feet since he transfered to Blackville two months ago but usually his bed was so tightly made and tucked in at the foot of the bed that Grant would have to untuck the sheets and he wasn't about to do all that but this night, young Wilson's sheets were untucked much to Sgt. Grant's delight. Putting his pen back into his pocket he pulled back the sheet from around both feet and much to his chagrin Wilson was wearing socks on his size 14 feet. Though he could have tickled his feet through his socks, Sgt. Grant didn't want to do that. He had come this far and he was not going to wait. Reaching up to the top of the right sock he slowly began to pull it off, careful not to wake him up. As the sock slowly slid of his right foot it revealed a very warm and sweaty foot. With a smile he removed the other sock, not as slowly and when the sock slid off, Wilson flexed and wiggled his stinky toes.
Sgt. Grant went to work on both feet with his fingers touched and tracing lines around his tender soles. Desmond Wilson's feet jumped and jerked so violently that Grant had to look around to see if anyone woke up. He then returned to his task as he wiggled his fingers over Wilson's toes. Wilson's body wiggled and he moaned and giggled. This drove Grant on as he continued to tickle both young tender feet with his fingers and the young inmate laughed and wiggled. Grant stopped tickling Wilson's feet and as he looked at them he moved in close and began licking them with his tongue. Wilson's reaction was not as explosive but it was clear that it tickled and when he worked his tongue in between Wilson's toes, the young inmate yelped in a burst of laughter. Sgt. Grant continued his tongue tickling as Wilson continued to moan and laugh and wiggle until he woke up.
"Hey Sarge!? Whatcha doin' tickling me?" Wilson demanded.
Sgt. Grant remained cool as he stepped back and removed his walkie talkie.
"Ward 3 officers report to ward 3 bay area. Ward 3 to Supervisor 2." Grant spoke.
"Supervisor 2 here." came the voice through the walkie talkie.
"Sergeant Collier. I have one for special management unit." Sgt. Grant said.
"Okay, Sgt. Grant. You know the drill. Hook' em, cook' em, book' em. I will contact SMU. Need any back up?"
"Negative. We have it under control." Sgt. Grant said.
"10-4. See ya in SMU."
"Yes sir. Out." Grant said.
"Hey? What's up with all that? What's goin' on?"
"Wilson you are going to my special little space in SMU where I can continue what I started." He said with a sinister smile.
The two officers appeared next to Sgt. Grant with in minutes and soon Desmond Wilson was handcuffed and on his way to SMU. Sgt. Grant couldn't wait because he had plans for the handsome lad
Special Management Unit or SMU is where inmates who break the rules of the institution and the agency or whose presence amongst the inmate population is a risk to the safety and security of the institution, fellow inmates, the staff, and/or the general public.
The special management unit is a seperate housing unit away from the general population of the Blackville general population inmates. SMU houses a total of 12 inmates on a short term basis, which is no more than 30 days. Longer terms in SMU require transporting the inmate to Lancaster, North or one of the other 20 max or medium max prisons.
Desmond Wilson still did not know why he was going to SMU or as the inmates on the yard called it, Lock Up. One minute he was fast asleep having a nice dream about him and his boy kicking it like they use to on the DL. Then, in the dream, his boy, Q, jumps on him and begins tickling his feet and shit except it felt to real to be a dream. When he opens his eyes there is Sgt. Grant with his toes in his mouth and his tongue tickling him and he asked the only question he could. Wassup?
Next thing he knows he is being handcuffed and taken to lock up. When they took him in front of Lieutenant Maxcy Leigh, he considered snitching on the sarge but who was going to believe him when he told them that. They handed him his copy of the charge paper and sent him on his way with two officers to SMU.
They arrived at the special management unit and one of the officers rang the buzzer to SMU and within seconds another officer arrived at the door and opened it. They escorted him inside SMU and Desmond was facing two big sergeants. One was Sgt. Grant, the one locking him up. The second was Sergeant Luther G. Collier called Big C by the inmates on the yard and there was no doubt about it. Sergeant Collier stood 6ft 5in tall and well over 300 pounds of solid mass and muscle. He was a stern, grim faced black man with a trimmed full beard and mustache with flecks of gray. He also sported a bald head though his hair was growing back. No one crossed Big C and no one question him either. It was well known that the chain of command at Blackville was the warden ran the institution but Big C was The Man.
"Welcome to SMU, Desmond Wilson." Collier said, his voice deep and powerful as James Earl Jones and as friendly as a shotgun.
"Hey Big C..."
"WHAT!" rumbled Sgt. Grant, "You address him by his rank and name inmate Wilson. Master Sergeant Collier."
"I'm sorry, Sir Sergeant Collier, Sir, why am I being locked up. I didn't do nothing." Wilson pleaded.
Collier and Grant laughed.
"Inmate Wilson," Collier replied, "You are being locked up because you are a threat to the safety and security of the population and the insitution."
"Man...I mean, Sir, I didn't do anything. I was asleep and the next thing I know..."
"I don't want to hear what you have to say," Collier said cutting him off. "Crying to me won't help you at all. SMU is your home for at least the next two weeks until the hearing officer hears your case."
"This isn't fair." Wilson cried.
Collier loomed over him and looked down at the smaller inmate. "Mr. Wilson, Sgt. Grant has informed me that not only are you a threat but that you are a danger to yourself. Therefore, after Officer Harrison is finished strip searching you, you will be placed in our suicide cell. No linen, no clothing, and shackled hands and feet, four point restraints as it were. Now, you have any more questions?"
Wilson looked into Sgt Collier's cold dark eyes and shook his head. Collier flashed an unamused gold toothed smile.
"Good. Harrison, strip' em and shackle 'em down for the night." Sgt. Collier ordered. As the massive sergeant made his way to the door he stopped and looked back. "Sgt. Grant, the regular SMU Sgt. is out sick and Officer Harrison is leaving early. I'm gonna reassign you to SMU for the remainder of the shift with officer Wayne. Call me if you need me or LT." Sgt. Collier left.
Desmond Wilson went into the shakedown room with Officer Harrison and after the strip search was done he has handed a paper gown to wear and he was handcuffed again. They came out of the shakedown room to find Sgt. Grant holding the cell keys.
"Officer Harrison, why don't you get on out of here. I can put Inmate Wilson in his cell."
"Are you sure, Sir?" Harrison asked already grabbing his things.
"Yeah, cut out and tell Officer Wayne to take his break. I'll call Sgt. Collier or the Ward 5 Sgt. if I need anything." Grant said.
"Okay. Well, have a good shift sir." Harrison said heading to the door.
"Good night, Harrison."
Cell #1 in SMU was designated as the suicide cell. It was here that they kept inmates who demostrated suicidal tendencies. It was in this cell that they were placed and observed every fifteen minutes. In extreme cases they were placed in four point restraints. Laying on their back spread eagle with their wrists and ankles cuffed.
Sgt. Grant escorted Inmate Wilson into the cell and shackled him down in the restraints. He then stood over the young inmate a smile on his face.
"Hey Sarge? Wassup, man? Why are you doing this?"
Sgt. Grant reached down and ripped off the paper gown exposing Wilson's naked body.
"Hey! Hey, man! Wassup? Why are you doing this?" Wilson demanded, panic in his voice.
"Why Wilson, why? Simply because....I can."
Sgt. Grant pounced on Wilson tickling and poking his ribs and stomach. Wilson roared with immediate laughter.
"Ahhhhhhh hahahahahahahahaha! NOOOOOOOOOOOO! STOP! STOP! STOP...HA HA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Wilson screamed and laughed as he tried to fight against the restraints holding him. Sgt. Grant's fingers danced all over his ribs and stomach and he screamed and begged for mercy. He had been tickled before but not like this. Not restrained and unable to escape or protect himself. He was 100% helpless. All he could do was laugh and scream and beg.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OOOOOOH! OOOOOOOOOH! PLEASE...HEHEHEHEHEHEHE.....P..P..PLEA...HEHEHEHEHEHEHE...HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Sgt. Grant wiggled one of his fingers in Wilson's belly button and the lad yelled as if he was being murdered.
"OOOOOH NOOOO! No! NO! Not my belly button! hahahahahahahahaha! Pleeeeeeeeseeeee! Pleeeeeeeeseeee! ...oh no stop! hahahahahahahahahahahaha! Oh shit! Oh shit! oh shit! hahahahahahahahahahaha! NOOOOOOOOOO! Not my belly button.....anything...oh! hahahahahahahahaha!"
Sgt. Grant's unforgiving tickling didn't let up as he tickled Wilson's belly, ribs and up to his armpits. Desmond Wilson screamed and laughed as he tried to catch his breath between laughing and screaming. He wanted it to stop, it was hellish!
Suddenly Grant stopped and moved to the foot of the bed. Wilson looked down and he knew what was about to happen.
"Oh no, man. Please. Do my belly button. Do anything but not my feet....oh please, man. Anything but that."
Grant looked at Wilson and then shook his head as he sniffed both feet deeply and began tickling his feet. Wilson tried to bust loose from his restraints but he couldn't.
"Hahahahahahahahaha! no..no...no...not...m..my...feeeeeeeeet!...no...hahahahahahahahahahaha! stop...stop....oh...please...stop! hahahahahahahahahahahahaha!"
Sgt. Grant's fingers dancing over his feet was driving him out of his mind. He couldn't stand it. It was just too much.
"hahahahahahahahaha! hehehehehehehehehehehehe! OOOOOOOH G...G...God! hahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Oh Man! OH MAN! OH MAN! hahahahahahahahahahahaha!"
Grant's fingers danced and tickled his soles and in step and between his toes and around his ankles and heels. Wilson twitched and wiggled and screamed and tried to fight it off but he couldn't.
"Hahahahahahahaha! hehehehehehehehehehehe! hohohohohohohohohohhoho! hahahahahahahahahahahahaha! AHHHHHHHHHHH! Pleeeeeeeeeeeseeeeeeee! Pleeeeeeeeeseeeeeeee! STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!"
The tickling didn't stop and as he yelled and laughed and begged for mercy Grant told him how his sweaty warm feet excited him, their size, their smell, their ticklishness but his curiosity was how did they taste? Wilson couldn't believe what was happening as Grant was licking his secured soles and sucking his toes and nibbling and licking in between them all and making certain his tickling was vicious all over his body but a real fixation for his feet. Wilson screamed and laughed and giggled and begged and then Sgt Collier appeared outside the cell door.
Grant let him in and they whispered and then Collier spoke into the shoulder mic of his walkie talkie. "Interrogation Team this is Supervisor 2."
"Supervisor 2 this is I Team."
"Report to SMU ASAP. You know the cell."
"10-4."
"Sgt. Grant, bring the tools we will need for interrogation. Supervisor 2 out."
Wilson looked up at Sgt. Collier. Interrogation Team? He had never heard of an Interrogation Team. He was concerned but he wasn't going to show it.
"Hey, you gonna get me some clothes or am I going to be in this paper gown during this interrogation?" he said defiantly.
Collier stepped out of the cell and shut the door without speaking. Wilson restrained and unable to move as the realization of his situation and fear slowly over took him. Sgt. Grant and Sgt. Collier returned to the cell 10 minutes later with two other men but a corporal and an Officer First Class, both new faces strangers to Wilson. The corporal carried an aluminium brief case which he set down on the floor.
"H..hey what's going on here? You brought in your goon squad, Big C?" Desmond Wilson sneered.
Master Collier lowered his large frame into the only chair in the cell. "Officer Adams, Corporal Jackson begin setting up everything. There is an outlet in the hallway where you can plug in the power strip."
"Yes sir." Cpl. Jackson said as he and officer Adams went to work.
Cpl. Jackson and Officer Adams opened the case and pulled out a power strip which Sgt. Grant took and plugged it into the wall socket in the hall. Poet tried to see what they were doing.
"Sgt. Grant, Wilson is being nosy. Blindfold him please." Master Sgt. Collier said.
Sgt. Grant removed a blindfold and tied it around Wilson's head and covered his eyes.
"Hey! What y'all doing to me!?" Wilson demanded.
"Don't worry. You will know soon enough. You will find it interesting." Collier said.
The members of the Interrogation Team continued setting up. They removed various devices from the case to include a hand held heater, a drill with various specially designed drill bits that were made out of feathers, another had soft bristles, another had hard bristles and another made of hard plastic that resembled small fingers in a claw position. They also removed various tubes as well. The Corporal signalled to the Master Sgt that they were ready.
"Fine. Gentlemen. Heat them up." Collier ordered.
Officer Adams took the hand held heater and turned it on and aimed it at Wilsons exposed feet.
"Hey! What's goin' on? What's that you're doing?" Desmond Wilson demanded.
"Right now they are preparing you for interrogation." Collier said. " A special type of interrogation. Once I get the information I want...well, it will end."
Wilson could feet the soles of his feet heating up and all he could do was wiggle his toes and feet.
"Hey! Stop it! That's hot." Wilson protested.
Collier signalled them to stop. "Okay gentlemen let's get this done. Sgt. Grant and Officer Adams take your positions."
"What's going on?" Wilson demanded as the officers took their position at his feet. Unable to see, Wilson could not help feeling afraid. "Hey! Talk to me! What's going on!"
Collier nodded to the two officers who stood at Wilson's feet and immediately they began tickling his sensitive high arched feet.
"Hahahahahahahahahahaha! OOOOOOOOOH NOOOOOOOO! N..N..No..No tickling...hahahahahahahahahahaha!"Wilson screamed and roared with laughter as his feet were attacked by the fingers of two men. It was unimaginable the sensations going through hahahahhahahahahahahahaa him."Hahahahahaha..hehehehehehehehehe...OH GOD!! Pleeeeeeseeeeee....hahahahahahahahaha!hahahhahahahahahahhahhahahahhahahahaha
Not...N...Not....hahahahahahaha...N..N...Noooooooo.....ohohohohohohohohohoho!"
"Okay Wilson Answer me. Did you enjoy it when Sgt. Grant tickled you and yes especially on your feet?"
"F....F.....F....uck Youuuuuuuu....hahahahahahahahahahaha! Hahahahaha! ahhhhhhhhhhh! hehehehehehehehehehehe! hahahahahahahahaha! Pleeeeseeeeeeeee! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
"Cpl. Jackson, I think it's time for the drill." Collier ordered.
"D...Drill??? hahahahahahahahahaha! W...W...What...hahahahahahaha.....are....hahahahahaha...NOOOOOOOOO!!!!" Wilson yelled screamed and fought with no way to escape.
Cpl. Jackson handed Sgt. Grant the drill with one of the feather bits on it. He then started the drill and he brought the spinning feather bit to contact with his foot.
"YEOOOOOOOW....HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OOOOOH MYYYYYY GOD!!!!" Wilson exploded. "Pleeeeesseeeeee! Pleeeeeeseeeeeeee!"
"Tell me what I want to know. Answer my question." Collier said.
"I.....I.....hahahahahahahahaha.....P...P....P....Pleeee..hehehehehehehehe!" Wilson wanted to say it. He wanted to stop the tickling but he couldn't speak through all the laughing. He couldn't believe this was happening. Then suddenly he realized something. He was getting a hard on. At first he wasn't too concerned until he realized that he was wearing the paper gown.
"Hmmmmm," Sgt. Collier said, "It seems that Desmond Wilson is enjoying this after all. Is that the case? Tell me and it will stop."
Wilson couldn't speak. All he could do was laugh as the drill and the fingers went to work on his feet. He desperate for the insidious torture to stop! He tried to fight his restraints but he still could not free himself.
"Cpl. Jackson with these rising developments I think you need to replace Officer Adams at Wilson's feet. Officer Adams your on. It seems you were right about Mr. Wilson."
The two men traded positions. Officer Adams reached into the pouch on his side and removed a pair of rubber gloves. He then picked up one of the tubes which contained lube and applied some to his hand. He then ripped the paper gown off Wilson's body and revealing a lean and muscular tanned body and his throbbing and thick cock. Officer Adams gripped Wilson's cock and the young man gasped and his cock twitched and slowly the Officer began stroking his cock.
Desmond Wilson was losing his mind. Someone was jacking his dick and with his feet being tickled he was sure he was going to die. As the lubed hand slide up and down his cock, his feet were still being tickled. He couldn't form an intelligent words and it was hard to think with all this tactile stimulation. He tried to fight the feelings and sensations and to free himself but he couldn't. His laughter was now mixed in with moans and groans.
"Inmate Wilson. Do you want this to stop?" Collier asked.
"Hahahahahaha....ooohhhhhhh.....ahhhhhhhhhh...hehehehe!"
"Hmmm, sounds like a no to me. Oh well. " Collier said as he sat back and watched.
Wilson gritted his teeth and worked his hips as he felt the feeling that he knew well. He was about to cum. He moaned and groaned and laughed as the hellish torture continued.
"Ahhhhh! ahhhhhh! OOOOOOOh Shit!!!! hahahahahahaha....OH OH OH hehehehehehe!"
"Inmate Collier? Are you ready to end this? Do you want this to end? Then answer my question." Collier demanded.
Wilson yelled "Fuck You! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I'M CUMMMMMMMMMMMMINGGGGGGGGG!"
Wilson arched his body as his cock erupted hot blasts of cum into the air and onto his stomach and on the gloved hand of the officer. Wilson lay there panting and breathing heavily. Master Sgt. Collier slowly rose to his feet and leaned close to his ear.
" I am not done with you. You are mine. You are mine to torture as I please and the next time, you won't cum until I am ready for you to." Sgt. Collier stood up and addressed the officers.
"Gentlemen you may go and Grant you stay and clean him up and have fun with him and especially his feet!"
Desmond Wilson shuddered seeing Collier and Grant winking and smiling with each other!
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