Return to Mainland Excerpt

 

Excerpt 1

 

Greg held his breath as the hovercraft pulled away from the boarding pier and the buildings began to recede into the distance. He watched in cautious silence as the island steadily became smaller and smaller, until it was barely more than a speck on the horizon.

Alison was standing with her back against his chest. He could feel his cock pressing into her buttocks, both of them wordlessly praying that nothing would go wrong this time. He'd never forget the dreadful memory of that afternoon back in 2025 when Damian Parks had pretended to arrange their release, only to reveal that he'd been mocking them; hope you guys appreciate the joke. Have fun!

Almost four more years had passed since then. Four years of exploitation as unpaid bellhops at South Beach Resort; 1,409 days to be exact. Greg had counted every single bloody one of them, grinding his teeth at the memory of Major Damian Parks and Deputy Warden Sadie Shark.

But now he and Alison were really free! The hovercraft was racing toward the mainland. It wasn't going to turn back. They, and another 22 prisoners, were all saying goodbye at last to Penal Colony Nine. He was still only 30 and Alison was 29. They'd lost 5 years but had gained 5 decades! They could live again.

Well, they weren't quite free ... they were on parole. Since the Quota had been raised to 8 percent, all the Colonies had become increasingly overcrowded and Number Nine was one of the worst, with over 90,000 convicts crammed onto its nine square miles.

So, a select few were being repatriated to continue their rehabilitation on the mainland. He and Alison had been chosen out of literally thousands. Yes, they were probably going to have to work in low paid jobs and live under restrictions but - compared with Penal Colony life - it was going to be a doddle. He pulled Alison against him and kissed her ear, feeling the swell of her lovely butt against his erection.

"Oi. None of that!"

A small contingent of PC9 guards was escorting them back to the mainland. Ruthless up to the last minute, a fat 50 yr old officer surveyed Greg and Alison, with his baton dangling from his wrist.

"Who's this?" he asked Greg, staring down at Alison's chest.

"She's my fiancée ... Sir."

"Is she indeed? And you think that gives you the right to kiss her?"

"I ... I'm sorry, sir ... it was just a peck on the ear."

He smirked unkindly, pouting his rubbery, saliva-flecked lips at Alison. "Come on, give us a kiss, love."

Greg bit his tongue. What was a kiss? Nothing worth jeopardizing their release for. He removed his arms from around Alison.

He watched his fiancée tilt her head to receive the guard's kiss. As the years had passed, she'd had to suffer much less sexual usage. The Colony guards and guests had a lot of choice and they preferred the new arrivals. In a way, it felt like Alison was 'his' again.

At last, the guard pulled away and wiped his mouth. He stared at them both with conquest and cruelty on his jowly, unshaven face.

"I hope you lucky fuckers have a wonderful future."

 

 

Excerpt 2

 

As he turned the corner into the area of her office, he could already hear the sounds of the 'boys' at play. Some high pitched giggling, the slap of a hand against a bare backside, a few entreaties. He stopped outside the office and knocked. There was no answer, apart from a long squealing sound which he recognised as belonging to his dear wife.

He knocked again, and the door opened. Inside, the first thing he saw was Emily, kneeling on a desk and facing away from him with her knees spread obscenely wide. In front of her, a man was pushed up against her face and looking straight at Nigel.

"What is it, boy?"

The man asking the question, Nick Sykes, was at least ten years younger than him. As he spoke he rammed his hips forward and he heard his wife's muffled scream again.

"Hello, sir. I'm here to replace a light bulb, sir," he answered in a respectful voice.

"Get on with it then, you old fucker," said a voice to his right.

Nigel turned to the speaker, the youngest of the trio, Lance Greig.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

Nigel unhitched the step-ladders from his cart and put them up in the centre of the room. On his left, reclining in an armchair sat the team leader, Ahmed Rahman. The tall Pakistani man was grinning at him, showing his beautiful, white, even teeth.

"How's it going, boy?"

"Fine thank you, sir. Thank you for asking, sir."

To his right he could hear a mix of Nick Sykes' grunting and his wife gasping as she wrapped her lips around his straining cock.

"Thanks again for lending us your wife. You wouldn't think from looking at her, but she's quite the whore isn't she?"

"Yes, sir. I suppose so, sir."

Behind him he heard a snort of derision from Lance Greig.

"There's no 'suppose' about it, boy. She's a born cock sucker. She might be shit at typing and generally useless around our office, but the old baggage can still suck a mean cock, can't she Nicky?"

"Oh...oh...oh, yeah," gasped Nick as he thrust backwards and forwards more eagerly. "Born cocksucker, Clarke. You should be proud of her."

"Well, Clarke, what do you say when a senior colleague gives you a compliment?"

"Oh, yes Mr Rahman sir, sorry, sir. Yes, my wife is a natural cock-sucker, sir."