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The Prisoner
"Three months," Paul stood, numb with shock as the judge's pronouncement echoed in his head. Immediately he regretted his feeling of defiance that had prompted him to come to court dressed as 'Pauline', his feminine persona. Now he faced going to prison wearing a skirt.
He had never expected to be found guilty, largely because he was innocent of any crime. He had accepted an invitation to a party and had the subsequent misfortune to be there when the house was raided by the police. As he had never taken any drugs apart from those freely on sale at the chemist he had naively thought that the court would believe that the tablets found in his hand bag had been put there by someone else.
A policeman approached to lead him from the dock and with an unconscious gesture that betrayed his nervousness, he wiped his sweating palms along his knee length pencil skirt.
"What will happen now?" he asked the constable, his voice breaking despite his determination to appear calm.
"We take you to prison," the man answered, not unsympathetically.
"A male prison?" Paul asked, his crimson coated lower lip quivered tremulously. He knew the answer but felt a compulsion to ask least there be any hope of hearing the answer 'no'. It didn't happen.
"Yes," the constable answered briefly.
Seated in the police van Paul considered his options but whatever way he looked at it, the future seemed bleak. Dressed in female clothes and carefully made up he knew that he passed for a natural woman, and a pretty one at that. And because of the vagaries of the British legal system which denied him the right to be treated as one, he was now on route to a male prison. Tears of self pity spilled over his mascara coated eyelashes to trickle darkly down his cheeks.
His registration was conducted in the prison office and to his temporary relief he was taken to a solitary confinement cell. It was bleak and inhospitable but at least he did not have to mingle with the general prison population.
He had been in solitary for two days before a warder came to escort him to the governor's office.
"Come in," the governor called when the accompanying warder knocked on the door and Paul was ushered in alone.
He crossed the room with a hip swaying walk that he had developed and stood attentively before a wide oak desk.
"So. You are here for ... three months," the governor said without looking up from a file that lay open on the desk.
"Yes," Paul murmured.
The governor looked up meeting his gaze for several seconds before standing and coming round to examine the new prisoner from the top of his coiffure wig to the tip of his high heel shoes.
"No make up?" the governor asked.
"I wasn't allowed to keep it," Paul explained and felt a rush of self-consciousness at being seen bare faced.
"I could change that," the governor told him, "and even get you some more clothes. I'm sure that you would like something to change into."
"Why would you do that?" Paul asked warily.
"Well of course I would expect something in return," he said. "You do know what I mean, don't you." He took Paul's hand and pressed it against his own crotch, leaving no doubt as to what was expected. "Put that pretty mouth and cute ass to good use and I will make your stay here much more pleasant."
Paul snatched his hand away. "What's the alternative?" he asked then quailed at the coldness of the look his query had engendered.
"I'll show you," he promised with menace and pushed a button on his desk.
Immediately the warder re-entered and the governor addressed him formally.
"I find no justification for keeping this prisoner in solitary confinement. See that he is moved to 'D' wing. I believe there is a spare bunk in cell 49."
Having callously returned Paul to the general prison population, he returned to his seat behind the desk. "I hope you have a chance to rethink your attitude," he said in dismissal.
Paul's heart fluttered uncontrollably as he was led away, ashen faced.
The first indication of the reception he could expect came as the barred gate of 'D' wing clanged shut behind him. A wolf whistle shrilled loudly to be joined by a chorus of cat calls and propositions as he passed a long row of cells. Finally the warder stopped at one of them and unlocked the door.
"Good luck," he said and Paul thought fleetingly that he detected a trace of pity in his voice as he felt himself pushed inside and heard the door lock behind him.
"Well it must be Christmas," the other occupant of the cell said loudly as Paul set the blankets he had been given to carry on the available bunk.
The man was large, at least 6' tall and well muscled. Tattoos covered his arms and his scalp was shaved. Paul shivered as he felt the unabashed appraisal.
"I must have done something right," he said and gripped Paul's buttock with a large hand.
"Don't," Paul jumped at the touch.
"Feisty, I like that," his cell mate said with a broad grin. "But I gotta tell you, honey, we can do this one of two ways. You can bend over and spread those cute cheeks, or I slap you around and then take you. Believe me, you won't like it rough."
Paul blanched at the crudity of the remarks and their directness but wisely refrained from saying that it would not like it any way. Clearly the Governor had placed him with this man deliberately and he could expect no help if attacked. Better not to provoke him, he decided.
The other prisoner took his silence for assent and with a gentle but insistent pressure to his shoulders bent him over until he was resting his weight on his hands which gripped the edge of the bunk bed.
His vision blurred with tears as he felt his skirt being pulled up over his slim hips and bunched around his waist. The salty drops fell as they were squeezed from eyes which shut tightly as a large hand roughly tugged his tights and panties clear of his pale buttocks.
"Please," he implored as the blunt end of the man's rock-like penis pressed between the parted cheeks to rest momentarily against the tight rosebud of his anus. "No!" He screamed as, without further warning, the thick head forced its way inside him. It seemed as though a burning shaft filled him and he jerked his hips to escape the unrelenting intrusion. But the other man had anticipated his movement and gripped his hips firmly to prevent his escape. Inch by painful inch, the man forced himself into Paul's unyielding body. Once fully inserted the thrusting started until after what seemed like an age but in reality was only a few minutes, the man gave a grunt of satisfaction and spurted his seed deep inside. Sated he pulled out his now flaccid penis and wiped it clean on Paul's buttocks before allowing him to get up.
Alone on his bunk Paul fell into a troubled sleep. He knew that the governor had intended for him to be treated in this way and that he was helpless to resist. For the first time he was forced to consider the negative aspects of femininity. He accepted, of course, that there was more to being a woman than wearing nice clothes. It was still largely a man's world and despite equal opportunities there were many areas where women were still discriminated against. Paul had considered these when he had decided to make the change to dressing as a woman permanently but he never thought that he would have been face with a sexual assault from a male. Despite his helplessness, vulnerability, and the soreness that he now felt, he still did not regret going to court as what he felt was his true self. He shuddered at the thought of what the coming weeks would have in store for him.
The next day Paul mixed with the other prisoners under the dubious protection of his new cell mate.
"Hey, white boy," a large coloured prisoner called out after the evening meal, and Paul realised that he was addressing his cell mate. "Ten cigarettes for a turn with your new bitch."
Paul stared in horror, wanting to protest but knowing that he had little say in the proposed deal.
"Fifteen."
"Done."
The man came to where Paul sat and gripped him firmly by the arm. Paul glanced around his eyes wide as he desperately sought help but no one showed the slightest inclination to come to his aid. Even the warders' attention seemed to be directed elsewhere.
"Come with me, sweet meat," the man said, and led him to his cell.
Some time later when Paul returned to his own cell he walked carefully. The man must be deformed, he thought in the relative privacy of his cell where he wadded tissue between his buttocks to soak the semen that seeped from his overly stretched and tender anus.
A full week passed before he was summoned to the governor's office. A week during which he lost track of the number of men who had used him. The governor smiled benignly when he was ushered in.
"How are you enjoying your stay with us now?" he asked.
Paul did not answer as the governor continued. "Not very much I'll bet. You certainly don't look your best. Now, do I send you back or would you rather co-operate and enjoy my protection?"
Paul wished briefly that he had the courage to tell him where to put his protection but the thought of returning to face further brutal treatment as a plaything for the other prisoners filled him with dread.
"I'll co-operate," he said in a whisper.
The governor smiled at him, evidently enjoying his triumph. "Good choice," he said then proceeded to outline his terms and expectations.
"I've arranged for you to have weekend leave. Unusual for a new prisoner on such a short sentence but you are hardly a threat to society. I'll take you home to collect some clothes then you will be staying with me."
The remainder of the afternoon passed in a flash and soon Paul was passing through the prison gates in the governor's car. A ten minute stop at his flat allowed him to pack a small suitcase before he was finally on route for the governor's home.
"There is only one bedroom as you can see," the governor pointed out as he took Paul on a conducted tour of the house. "We can share it after you have cooked us some dinner. You will find everything you need in the kitchen. You can cook?"
Paul could. In fact he enjoyed it and quickly found what he needed to make a savoury omelette and a salad. Seeing a bottle of wine in the refrigerator he opened it and poured two glasses. Then, satisfied that everything was ready, he served the food.
To his surprise the governor helped to clear up after the meal then suggested that they watch a film together and finish the wine before going to bed. The reminder of how the evening was to end caused Paul's stomach to flutter with apprehension. After the treatment he had received from the other prisoners he was prepared for the worst but his body still ached and he did not think he could withstand another vicious rape. Perhaps the governor would treat him gently if he was convinced of his full co-operation.
It was the best option he had and he excused himself to put the plan that was forming into action. Upstairs he freshened his make-up then delved into his small suitcase and took from it a satin night-gown and a matching wrap. Stripping off his clothes he put on the luxurious garments and padded barefoot back to the living room.
The governor's eyebrows raised inquiringly as Paul entered the room but he did not comment, simply shifting slightly to make room on the sofa beside him.
"Time for bed then," Paul said when the film ended. The governor looked at him strangely, as though unable to believe that the co-operation was genuine and not a trick of some sort.
Paul recognised the look. "I guess I'll just have to prove that my intentions are honourable," he said taking the lead. He deftly unzipped the governor's trousers and freed the swelling manhood. Without pausing further he ducked his head and used his lips and tongue to such effect that the governor was unable to stifle his groans of pleasure.
The next morning Paul was woken by a hand lifting his night-dress up over his buttocks. Still drowsy he responded by parting his legs and raising his hips.
What followed was not the rape he had endured in prison but a gentle lovemaking that left him fulfilled in a way that he had never believed possible. Fortunately he seemed to have affected the governor in the same way because he was a perfect gentleman for the rest of the weekend.
Back at the prison Paul was pleased to find that he had a cell to himself once again. And this time he had a portable television set and a supply of up to date magazines. He did not see the governor this week but on Friday he discovered that he had another weekend pass. This time, however, he was filled with pleasure and anticipation rather than apprehension at the though of what was to come.
This arrangement was kept for the full three months of Paul's sentence. He had become accustomed to seeing the governor at the weekends and was even sorry that their relationship would be coming to an end.
"Governor want to see you," a warder told him on the morning of his release.
"Hi," Paul said when they were alone in his office.
"Hello," the governor replied. "These are your release papers," he said and held up a file for Paul to see.
The conversation seemed stilted but Paul hoped he knew the reason why. Hoped that this was not simply a brush off now that he was free. Nothing ventured, he told himself before speaking.
"The lease of my flat is up and I have been given notice to leave. I have nowhere to go," he said bluntly.
The governor looked at him for several seconds then his face split into a wide grin.
"I could put you up," he offered, "but I only have one bed."
Paul smiled. "We'll manage," he said.
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