Prisoned Series Box Set

by Marni Mann

  When the head of my dick was all rosy-colored, I would start pumping, and I wouldn’t stop until streams of white floated over the pool of blood.

  Satisfaction wouldn’t come over me then.

  Relief would.

  But it was short-lived because there was still so much work that had to be done.

  Like feeding time.

  It was amazing to watch how animals devoured the remains of a human. The way the blood—the same blood on my cock—would coat the fur around their lips. As I watched them gorge on flesh and muscle and chunks of hair, it would take everything I had not to come again.

  I’d learned to control it, to only reward myself when it was earned. That’d happen after the feeding and the scrubbing of the motel room when I had to wash away the only evidence that was left—the DNA that was on my body. So, as the last of the blood dripped off me, knowing it would be another year before I was coated in it again, I would squeeze my cock and relieve myself.

  Such a pretty fucking color it made as it swirled down the drain.

  This whole process went on for eight years.

  When I turned twenty, it all changed.

  As I told you, my father owned an extremely successful chain of pill mills. The more money he earned, the more enemies he made. Sometimes, those enemies couldn’t be paid off. They needed to go away.

  Permanently.

  That was where I came in.

  What better person to take care of your enemies than your own son? I would get whatever information my father needed. I would make sure the accused was dead, and then I would dispose of the body.

  The only thing I needed was a safe place to play.

  Our research led us to Venezuela, a lot directly on the water, where we wouldn’t have to travel far to dump the ashes and a boat could take us back and forth from the airport. Beard wanted to join as an equal partner, and my father gave us the money we needed.

  We built the prison in the basement. It consisted of twelve cells, three operating rooms, The Pit that housed the body parts before they went into the incinerator, a kitchen, and an office. It was perfection.

  I only wished it had lasted forever.

  When you came to live with us, we gave you your own room. Toy, who was sharing my bed at the time, found you a crib. Beard got you clothes. Diego, the third prison guard and someone Beard and I had grown up with, was in charge of getting food or formula or whatever that shit was that your mother put in your bottle.

  We were one big happy fucking family.

  Until that changed, too.

  If it wasn’t for your mother, Diego, Beard, Toy, and I would still be at the prison, torturing and killing and playing in blood. I’d still be with Toy. But that cunt ruined everything.

  Hell, she ruined things the minute she had come into our lives.

  And Beard was just a sucker who had bought it all. Pussy-whipped son of a bitch. Since he was twelve, when I’d killed his mother, all I’d ever done was try to protect him. But he was weak.

  Your mother made him weaker.

  You made him the weakest.

  He cared about you, kid. He held you and talked to you and changed you and did things a father should. He called you his son. He truly thought you were.

  Stupid motherfucker. You looked nothing like him. You had my eyes and everything.

  You know, the first time you said Daddy, I was the one holding you. We were outside, behind the prison, sitting on the beach. That was our spot. I would take you there every day for about an hour, telling you about the people I killed and the methods of torture I used. During one of those times, you put your little arms on my shoulders and said the word like you meant it.

  Funny, wasn’t it, that even you knew the truth back then?

  I never told anyone you’d said that. Not even Toy, who I told everything to. I just brought you back to the prison and handed you to your mother, so she could feed you. I always saw her pacing in front of her bedroom window, watching us down at the beach below, whenever you and I were out there. She didn’t like it when I spent time alone with you.

  Jesus, she was a crazy fucking bitch.

  I folded the letter and slid it inside the envelope. The inmate four cells down didn’t have stamps, just writing supplies, which meant I’d have to blow the nightshift guard for one. His cock had been in my mouth nine times before. It was the perfect size for giving head. A thick crown, a shaft that thinned out as it got to the base, a length that didn’t hit the back of my throat. I didn’t mind gagging. Toy’s cock had made me gag. But that was reserved for dicks that deserved to be deep-throated. The guard wasn’t one even though his cum was fucking delicious.

  Almost better than Toy’s.

  Hell, it was even better than the sweetness that had dripped from Tyler, the kid’s mother’s, cunt.

  I laughed as I thought about her pussy, and my fingers crawled inside my pants.

  Flaccid.

  There was only one image of her that would get my cock hard.

  The one that involved her blood.

  Eight

  Huck

  While I sat at my desk, I pulled up the live feed from Arin’s room. I was sure she didn’t realize there were two cameras in the ceiling—one pointing directly at the bed, another that showed the opposite angle. They were for my protection since she was sharing my personal space. But the thoughts that ran through my head had nothing to do with safety and everything to do with my cock.

  Fuck, she was one beautiful stranger.

  Every time I checked the footage, she would be in the same position—curled on her side in the middle of the bed. I assumed she was in too much pain to move. And, each visit Lawan had made to Arin’s room, she’d told me the same thing. It had been hours, and she hadn’t so much as kicked her leg out of the blanket.

  What the hell had happened to her?

  I wondered how long they’d kept her captive before they’d dumped her on the dock, if they’d only hurt her physically or if they’d raped her, too. Would she be able to get over what they had done to her, or would she let the incidents eat at her, using any substance she could get her hands on to block it out?

  I’d seen both outcomes before; however, the drugs and booze route was a much more common escape around here.

  I never asked any of my purchases what had happened to them. Never once was I curious about what their life had been like before they became my possession.

  I didn’t care.

  I just saw what they looked like when they got off the boats and shipping containers, I took them in, did what needed to be done, and sent them away.

  But, for this one, I wanted to know what had gone down.

  I had no idea why.

  Nor did I understand why I was suddenly standing outside her door. It was late, I was tired, and I barely remembered pushing myself out of the chair and my feet moving toward her room. But, now, I was knocking hard enough to wake her.

  It took several seconds before I heard, “Come in,” in a small, scratchy voice.

  I turned the knob and walked in. Setting a bottle of water on the nightstand, I stood next to her bed. “Do you know where you are?”

  Sometimes, while they detoxed, the girls would get confused. Lawan had told me that Arin hadn’t shown any signs of that yet, just shaking and puking when I’d left her in the bathroom, but I wanted to make sure that hadn’t changed.

  Her eyes never moved away from mine. “Yes.”

  “Tell me where you are.”

  “Bangkok. At least, that’s what you said before.”

  The hallway light shone straight across her face, revealing the true color of her eyes. They weren’t red and hazy, like when she had first shown up. They were blue. Ice fucking blue.

  “Do you remember any other details from Mumbai? Anything about the boat?”

  Her gaze still didn’t move. “No.”

  I handed her the water, leaving the cap on, so she knew I hadn’t tampered with it. “Drink this.”

&n
bsp; As she sat up, the blanket fell to her waist, her nipples showing through her thin white T-shirt. They were small, hard, unrestricted by a bra. When she reached for the bottle, the cotton tightened around them, giving me the full outline of her tits. They were teardrop-shaped, palm-sized. A length I could easily cover with a quick sweep of my tongue.

  Fuuuck.

  “Is this thing glued on?” She ground her hand around the cap, and I could tell it was burning her skin.

  “Do you want me to help?”

  “I usually have no problem with opening a bottle of water.”

  I took it from her, twisting off the plastic and handing it right back. “It’ll take a few days for your strength to return to normal.”

  Even though she held the water to her lips, her eyes stayed on me. “It sounds like you’ve seen this before, so what should I expect next?”

  “More tiredness.” I placed my hand on the bottom of the plastic bottle and lifted it. “Drink up.”

  Several streams of water dripped down her chin before she secured her mouth around the opening.

  “I’ll have Lawan bring you more. It will help. And, if you can get some food down, that’ll make you feel better, too.”

  She pushed my hand away when a quarter of the bottle was gone. “What do I have to do for food?”

  “Didn’t she already offer you some?”

  Arin nodded. “But you said that, in the morning, once everything was out of my system, you’d tell me what you wanted from me.”

  “It’s not morning.”

  “I know. I slept through those hours, and I kept right on sleeping.” She glanced toward the window. “A whole day has passed since I got here, hasn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  She set the water on the nightstand, freeing both hands, which she curled around her stomach. The movement caused the inside of her arms to push on the sides of her tits, shoving them together and straight into the fabric. It didn’t appear as though she were trying to get me to look at them. Just the opposite was true, I suspected. Still, I stole a glance.

  Motherfucker.

  It was perfection. Absolute fucking perfection.

  “But I don’t think you’re going to let me have food for free when Lawan does offer it again,” she said. “So, what do you want me to do for it, Huck?”

  I took out my phone, finding the flashlight, something I never used that much before Arin showed up. “Open your mouth.” I clicked on the icon, the light glowing onto the floor as I stepped closer to the bed.

  “What?”

  I didn’t stop until my shins pressed against the mattress, and then I held the light over her. “Open your mouth.”

  “You’re not serious—”

  “Open your fucking mouth, Arin.”

  Her chest rose and fell as her breathing sped up. Her eyes became wide and anxious. She reached behind her, gripping the pillow like it was a goddamn weapon, and slowly parted her lips.

  Good girl.

  There weren’t any dark fillings or metal caps on her straight teeth. Just white, white, and more shiny fucking white. No one was born with a mouth that beautiful, which told me someone had cared enough to pay for her braces. Just, at some point, she’d stopped having anything to do with them, and she no longer had anyone to call.

  I wasn’t staring into her mouth because I gave a shit about her molars or the color of her enamel. Although I’d be lying if I said her lips didn’t look hot as hell as they were spread wide, like I was about to stick my cock between them. What I was after was her submission, to see if she’d follow my demand, and to put her on edge.

  I didn’t want her to get too comfortable here. The more she worried about what I was going to do, the faster she would leave my place. I hadn’t turned her away, and I probably should have, but that didn’t mean I wanted her to stick around. Having her here reminded me of Jack and all the transactions and arrangements we’d made together. I needed to stop thinking about him.

  I sure as fuck needed to stop thinking about Arin.

  “It looks like you’d give some mean head,” I told her. “With only a little strain, your mouth is already watering. I can see it pooling on the back of your tongue. You know how good all that spit would feel on a client’s dick?” I pointed the light toward the back of her throat. “They would fucking love it, and then they would love to come all over your face and watch it drip down your chin.” I dropped the light, so it shone on her neck, giving her cheeks a little glow. “Tell me, Arin, how hard can you suck?”

  The anxiousness turned to tears, and they were already leaking out the sides of her eyes.

  I had her just where I wanted her.

  I got closer to her face, so she could feel the heat coming off my skin. “Really hard? If I’m right, then I want you to nod.”

  Again, she did what I’d asked.

  My thoughts went to how hard the inside of those cheeks could squeeze around my cock, how much of me she could take in before she gagged, how fast she could swirl her tongue.

  They weren’t safe thoughts.

  So, I focused on her bruises. They were turning a slight green, which told me they had started to heal. The cuts were all scabbed. Her face was still a mess, but I could picture what she looked like without them.

  And I liked it.

  Too much.

  “Close,” I barked, turning off the flashlight and putting the phone in my pocket.

  Within a second, her lips were sealed, and she was tugging the blanket up to her neck. It was too bad. I had really enjoyed the view of those nipples.

  “Thank you.” She wiped her face and her eyes, all the tears completely gone now.

  “For what?”

  She quickly glanced down at my dick. “For not making me do that.”

  I laughed at the way she looked at me and for what she had called my cock. In a brothel, we had much better words than that.

  “Who says I’m not going to?”

  “I-I thought—”

  “Stop thinking, Arin. It’s not going to get you anywhere.”

  I gazed at the small outline of her body under the covers. It was similar to the girls downstairs, but that wasn’t the size I liked. She needed to gain at least fifteen pounds. Then, once she had more meat on her bones, she’d really look sexy.

  If she was here for a few weeks, I’d make sure that happened.

  But not for me.

  The gain would be for her.

  “I have over forty sluts downstairs. If I wanted someone to suck my cock, I wouldn’t have to force them to do it.”

  My stare moved to her lips. They were red and suddenly a little swollen. I’d had a chub since she opened her mouth wide for me. Now, it was full-on hard and throbbing.

  “There’s nothing sexy about making a woman give me head. I want her to beg for my cock, not fear it.”

  “But isn’t that what you’re going to have me do? Sell my mouth? And my body?”

  I pulled out my phone as it vibrated in my pocket, reading the text from Lawan, telling me she needed help with someone in the lounge.

  “I’ll be back.” I walked to the door, holding the knob between my fingers. “Lawan gave you a phone that has Internet access. Use it and contact whoever you need.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  She needed to stop thanking me. All I’d given her was a place to bathe and a bed to sleep in. If she knew the thoughts that were in my head, she’d be running, not showing me any appreciation.

  I shut the door and went down the two flights of stairs, coming up behind Lawan to the backside of her desk. A monitor sat on the glass top, the screen showing a small picture of each of the private rooms. All but one was filled.

  “What do you need?” I asked.

  “The older man.” She used her head to point to the guy who sat on the far side of the lounge. “He wants you, sir.”

  “What does he want?”

  “Not sure, sir. He said he wants to talk to the owner.”

  “E
verything else okay?”

  I took a quick glance at the museum. Several of the new girls were in there, and I could tell by the way they positioned their bodies, how they were dressed and put together, that Lawan had trained them well. They were skinny, like my other girls, which was what my clients liked, so I knew they’d all do well here.

  “Fine, sir,” Lawan said. “Very profitable evening.”

  “Good.” I walked over to the man in the lounge and stood at his side while he sat, facing the museum. “Name’s Huck,” I said, extending my hand. “How can I help you?”

  He shook it. “You own this place? You’re a little young for that, aren’t ya?” His accent told me he was American. His boots and cowboy hat made me think he probably lived in one of the Southern states.

  “I’m the owner.” I crossed my arms to do something with them. “What can I get you?”

  He took his hat off, scratched the baldness on top, and then ran his fingers down his long gray ponytail. “I traveled a long way to get here, and I’d like to spend the night with someone who can take care of my needs. You get me?”

  “That’s what we’re all about here.”

  “Excellent.” He put his hat back on. “Now, show me a girl you recommend.”

  Whenever a client called me over, I was almost always asked that question. That was because it was common for brothel owners to sleep with their girls.

  Not me.

  I wasn’t like most owners.

  In all the years Serviced had been mine, I never fucked any of my employees. I respected what they did to support their families. I just wasn’t interested in sleeping with women who sold their cunts. I never told my clients that. I’d just lie through my response.