Uncaged

by Candace Blevins

  He shrugged. “We have a few rappers as clients. Sometimes they like having a white guy in a suit hanging around, other times they don’t want to broadcast they’ve hired extra security. I can hang with them and look like part of their crew.”

  “But then you have to talk to them, right?”

  “Yeah,” he chuckled. “Sometimes I have to talk to them.”

  I didn’t want him to have to grill me about why I wanted to hold off on him doing me in the ass, so I brought it up.

  “Gallagher, the guard who made the most demands of me… he had this thing about only using prisoners orally and anally, so he could be sure he didn’t knock us up. We had to swallow so there’d be no evidence, and he never came in our ass, but he used our asses plenty. It was like he was making sure we could never have proof of what he’d done. He’d even check our mouth, and make us drink a whole bottled water afterwards, so he’d be sure we didn’t keep any hidden in our jaw or something.”

  “And he stayed with you fifteen minutes, to make sure you didn’t puke it up, I’m guessing.”

  “He’d do it in the morning while I was supposed to be getting the salon ready for the day, and then he’d stay with me the first hour. If he wasn’t going to be able to stay with me then he’d bring something to jizz into, and he’d pull out just before he went.” I looked into Darnell’s eyes. “I’m never doing ass-to-mouth again.”

  “I’d never ask you to. Did he hurt you? I mean, I know it was rape, but was he gentle, at least?”

  “He used lube on himself, but he didn’t lube us and he didn’t stretch us first.” I looked down at my plate. “Yeah, it hurt. He liked to hurt us.”

  “He’s going to pay.”

  “No!” I looked up, suddenly terrified. This was the main reason I’d been determined to keep this from him. If Darnell did something to one of the guards, they’d assume he was doing it as my agent, and I’d go back to prison.

  “I know I can’t do it, but it’s going to happen. I’ll make sure the two of us are seen in public somewhere when it happens. I won’t do anything to jeopardize your freedom, Keesh.”

  He held my gaze, gauging my reaction. I gave a small nod. “Thanks. Not just for looking out for me, but for taking care of him. It helps.”

  “Good.”

  We ate in silence a few moments before he said, “You liked anal before.”

  I nodded, and there was more silence.

  “Are you going to let him take that away from you?”

  I looked up, and he practically dared me to look away. Challenging me.

  But it was my decision. Yeah, he was goading me into it, but still — I had the right to say no. Also, he was right about not letting Gallagher ruin something I used to enjoy.

  “I’m willing to let you use a finger, maybe two. I need to learn to enjoy that again before we try more.”

  “You know I can go in skinny.”

  I shook my head. “God, I used to both love it and hate it when you’d see how wide you could go once you were inside me.”

  “It’ll be a while before we go there again, but I’d like to play around a little and get you used to liking it again.”

  “You aren’t going to have him killed, right?” I liked the idea of making him pay, but I didn’t want his death on my conscience.

  “No, but he’ll be messed up enough he won’t be able to work in the prison anymore.”

  I breathed out in relief. “Good. Maybe it makes me a bitch, but I’m happy to know he’ll be hurting soon.”

  “Makes you my bitch. I’d be disappointed if you were upset.”

  Darnell and I had both changed over the years. I think he’s always felt this way, but I’m not sure I’d have been good with it before my time in prison. Now? It was perfect. Gallagher didn’t need to be in a position of power over others. Perhaps it would’ve been good enough just to get him fired, but after all he’d done to me — I was happy to know he had some pain coming.

  Chapter 14

  Keisha

  After all the talk about anal, I’d expected Darnell to start something the next time we had sex, but it’d been a week and he hadn’t done anything.

  I was sitting on my front porch, reading a book, when my parole officer drove across the grass and parked in front of my little house one morning.

  “Premises check. Please stand with your arms behind your back. Grab your elbows.”

  I put my phone in my pocket and complied, and followed him into my home when he motioned me in. Once again, I stood silently as he pawed through my belongings. He didn’t take as long this time, and when he finished he walked me back outside.

  “I need to know where you were night before last.”

  “My son’s girlfriend is a member of Mythic Beast. I had dinner with my son and his girlfriend at a local restaurant. There are pictures online of us eating out, and then of us going to the movies, and coming out of the theater.”

  He pulled his phone from his shirt pocket, spent a few minutes on it, and looked up.

  “One of the guards at NCCIW was brutally beaten in a bar fight, and we’re supposed to establish an alibi for all recently released inmates. Looks like you’re in the clear.”

  “Who was beaten?”

  He didn’t answer and I said, “I’m sure I can do a search online and find out.”

  “Gallagher.”

  If someone came to me, I was supposed to ask enough questions I didn’t make myself look suspicious, but not so much I aroused suspicion. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I decided on speaking my mind.

  “Nasty man. There are some guards I’d have been upset to hear were beaten, but he isn’t one of them. No wonder they’re checking with people recently released.”

  “We’re just a few days from your monthly check-in. Do you want to do the formalities now, to keep you from having to come to my office?”

  “That’s nice of you to offer. I don’t have my report written yet, though.”

  “We can do the rest, so you only need to drop it off.”

  He sat and was personable as we handled it, and when we finished he said, “It looks like you’re going to be one of the minority who learns from prison and turns things around. If you feel you need help, please know you can come to me. I’m impressed with your progress so far and I don’t want to see you screw it up.”

  I googled Gallagher’s name as soon as I was alone, and discovered he’d been beaten nearly beyond recognition. Someone had taken a picture of him in the bar while they were waiting for the ambulance, and his face was a horrible mess. The reports said he had broken ribs, various internal injuries, a broken arm and wrist on one side, and dislocated shoulder on the other. His knee had been messed up badly enough he’d need a new knee before he’d be able to walk again, but he was still in critical condition so that surgery would have to wait.

  There were pictures of the man who’d beaten him — taken during the bar fight — but apparently no one had come forward with his identity. He was white, and looked to be in his late twenties. He’d been wearing gloves and was dressed as a biker but wore one of those Harley Davidson vests that looks like you’re in a club when you aren’t. He had shaggy black hair and a scraggly black beard, and he wore glasses. Gallagher never landed a punch on the man’s face, or the glasses would’ve been a problem.

  I wondered if this was one of Darnell’s Navy SEAL buddies or a friend from work — but I knew I’d never ask him.

  And maybe it makes me a bad person, but when I looked at the picture of Gallagher lying on the floor, messed up… all I could think was that it served him right.

  Darnell was due back in town around noon, and I had the day off. I texted him that I was making a big Sunday dinner, and he texted back he was looking forward to it.

  It took me two trips on the motorcycle — one to the grocery store and another to the farmer’s market — to get everything I needed, but I made him a meal fit for a king: country fried steak, real mashed potatoes, green beans cooked wi
th bacon, fried squash, turnip greens, homemade beer bread, and a chess pie for dessert.

  And I did it all on a stove with only two eyes.

  Chapter 15

  Darnell

  I’d wanted Gallagher to get the shit beat out of him before I played with Keisha’s ass. Maybe it didn’t matter, but it felt right — so I waited.

  I was also worried she might be questioned, so I hadn’t told her anything. It looked like it’d been a good call.

  Also, she had a rock-solid alibi. Granted, a white man had done it and she’d have likely been okay without an alibi, but as long as she didn’t act suspicious when she was questioned, she should be fine.

  She went all out for dinner, and I once again wished I’d given her a full-sized stove. This woman needed a much better kitchen.

  She’d have one, eventually, but in the meantime I needed to figure out a way to give her more space and better tools. I wanted to add onto her house, but she’d asked to stand on her own two feet so my hands were tied.

  Damned frustrating.

  Her bed was plenty big though, and our evening would be spent upstairs.

  “I want to blindfold you tonight.”

  Her fork was on the way to her mouth, and she put it back on her plate without taking the bite.

  “What?”

  “I want to blindfold you.”

  “Why?”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “You know I do.”

  “Good, then it’s settled.”

  “No. No, it isn’t settled. Why do you want to blindfold me?”

  “Because you trust me to.”

  “Trusting you and… trusting you are two different things. You never wanted to blindfold me before.”

  “We’re both different people now. I mean, we’re the same, but our experiences have changed us. I’ve discovered I like blindfolding women and sometimes tying their hands to the headboard. What did you learn about yourself?”

  “I’m not sure the things I learned about myself will translate into better sex with you. I learned I like to be in control. I wasn’t with the guards, but I was totally in control of the women I was with.”

  And now it was women. Plural. I figured it’d been the case, but it still bothered me a little. I knew she’d only had one long term relationship, but sex can be a form of payment in prison, and she’d had a lot of people needing to show her respect.

  I wasn’t going to be upset with her though. I’d been with a lot of people too.

  “You said you don’t mind submitting to me.”

  “You aren’t into, like, spanking and stuff, are you?”

  “Did you spank any of the women you were with?”

  She looked down and I smelled a moment of anxiety and embarrassment before she took a breath and must’ve decided she had nothing to be ashamed of, because her scent turned into something closer to stubborn and determined.

  “Yeah. Kind of. Not exactly a spanking, because the noise would’ve brought the guards. I used a broomstick as a cane, in the backroom of the salon.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “People you cared about? Or people you needed to teach a lesson?”

  She shrugged. “Both.”

  I was beginning to wish I hadn’t taken us down this road of questioning, but once I started, I couldn’t stop. I needed to understand her time in prison. All of it. I leaned back and looked at her, debating on how to ask what I needed to know.

  “How was it different when it was someone you cared about?”

  She shook her head. “The rules are different inside. If someone needs to be taught a lesson, you have to teach it. Eventually, I figured out I could do the thing with the broomstick without as much risk of getting caught. I’d have them volunteer to help sort inventory when a shipment came in, so I’d have a little privacy with them. They could choose to go this route and know I’d hurt them without sending them to medical… or they could refuse and I’d corner them away from guards and cameras and beat the hell out of them. If I had to go to that trouble, they were guaranteed a helluva lot more pain.”

  “So, they arranged to work for you for the day, and then they bent over and let you cane them — beat them — with a broomstick?”

  “Yeah.” She stared at her plate as she answered, and I smelled fear.

  She was afraid I’d… what? Turn away from her when I found out?

  “Keesh, I’ve done stuff on missions I’d never do on U.S. soil. Or, I hope conditions here never deteriorate so those things are necessary at home. I get that you do what you have to in order to survive, and sometimes people who haven’t been in that situation will never understand. I’m asking questions because I need to understand — not because I’m judging you.”

  Her fear dissipated, but there was still uncertainty.

  “What is it you want to know? Just ask. Don’t beat around the bush.”

  “When it was someone you cared about, how were things afterwards?”

  “In one case, it was over. She brought drugs in through a salon shipment, and everyone knew that was a no-no. I punished her and she never worked in the salon again. She broke my trust and that was it.”

  “And in other cases?”

  “Someone else…” Keisha sighed. “She thought she was looking out for me, but she went against my orders. I punished her, and made sure the bruises would show in the shower for a few weeks — so people would know I had no mercy for anyone. Not even people I cared about.”

  “How were things with the two of you afterwards, though? Did you take care of her?”

  Now she looked up, met my gaze, and I saw exactly how hard she’d had to be in prison. “In public, she had to wait on me more than usual. She needed to earn the right to be near me again.”

  “And in private?”

  “I took mercy on her a few times, and we of course talked, and I eventually told her we’d put it behind us and we were good. You can’t be soft inside. You just… you can’t.”

  “Okay, Keesh. Okay.” What I was talking about was something completely different, and she needed to understand. “I’m never going to want to do anything that leaves a bruise on you. A few slaps on the ass here and there, a blindfold a little more often, and your hands bound so you can’t touch me sometimes. It’s supposed to be fun. It isn’t about punishment, or putting you in your place, or teaching you a lesson. If you do something that breaks trust, we’ll talk it through. I’m not going to spank you for disobeying, much less cane you.”

  “If I don’t like the blindfold, you’ll take it off?”

  “Of course — but only once you’ve given it a chance.”

  She rolled her eyes and I added, “I can smell the difference between annoyed and distressed. You know I won’t keep doing something if it puts you in a bad place.”

  My wolf pushed up as I smelled doubt, but I pushed him down as I leaned back and asked, “You think I’d hurt you on purpose?”

  “Maybe not physically, but I wouldn’t blame you for…” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t blame you for messing with my head.”

  I sighed. “Okay. No blindfold. Not until you trust me.”

  “You’re upset.”

  “Can’t get anything over on you.” My voice sounded more aggravated than I intended, but it reflected my mood.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I ate without responding, and looked up to meet her gaze, intending to change the subject when she said, “No. Don’t say anything. I need to think a few minutes.”

  I went back to eating, and she was silent nearly five minutes before she said, “Okay. We’ll do the blindfold. It isn’t so much that I don’t trust you specifically as… well, I learned not to trust anyone. If there’s going to be an exception, it’ll be you.” She took a breath. “I trust you.”

  Chapter 16

  Keisha

  Darnell has always been bossy when it came to sex. When we were married, he’d come home from a mission all strung out and intense, and I’d be deliciously sore for weeks.


  He’s mellowed in his everyday personality, but I think he’s more intense in bed now than before. And damned bossy.

  Not that I mind. He can still make me melt with just a look.

  I thought back to the ways I’d had to discipline Kim. A few times she hadn’t shown proper respect in public. Nothing major, but your rep on the inside is all tied up with respect, and I couldn’t have my girl showing disrespect. Once I’d just made her stand in a corner during rec time in the yard, and another time I’d made her sit beside me during lunch and dinner without eating.

  Several times, I’d made her go without an orgasm for a set amount of time when she displeased me. I’d never struck her, and I never let anyone else hit her. Of course, she’d never done anything big enough in public so I lost face by not punishing her, either. She’d loved me enough not to make me have to hurt her.

  She’s the only woman I loved in prison, but I had affection for a few others. Most of those women had to be punished or disciplined at least once, and several received the broomstick caning. They all thought they were special and above reproach, and they’d had to learn the hard way.

  If you asked me how many women went down on me while I was in prison, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. Other women frequently sent their bitches to me for payment, and lots of women offered themselves when they needed something.

  When I’d been with Kim, I’d frequently let them go down on her while she did me. Sometimes, doing so would’ve been like a slap in the face to them, like I was turning down their gift, or cheapening it. Kim understood, and was never jealous. God, she’d been special.

  All this to say, once I made it to the top, I never wanted for orgasms. I’d been in control. I mean, sure, I’d had to submit to the guards, but otherwise… sex has been about me being in charge for a really long time.

  And Darnell wanted to blindfold me and tie me to the bed.

  My biggest fear was that he’d smell my anxiety and get his feelings hurt. My trust seemed ultra-important to him, but… fuck. I wasn’t sure he understood exactly why this was so hard for me.