EXTRACT FOR
Doing Time
(Jaypbee)
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DOING TIME Exclusive copyright of Jeff Breddy (written
under the pseudonym 'Jaypbee') Copyright © 2011 by Jeff Breddy
email: jaypbee@fsmail.net www.jaypbee-gay-short-stories.com All characters contained
within are entirely fictional; any similarity to any real or fictional person
living or deceased is totally unintentional. Do not read this story if you do
not enjoy reading about consensual sexual activities of an exhibitionist
nature. Otherwise read on...... Chapter
1 The
door slammed shut with a loud bang sending a shiver through me as I sat down on
the cold metal seat and looked around the tiny travelling cell. I felt
claustrophobia rise in me before I pushed it down and reminded myself that I
would only be in here for a short time. The cell was little more than two feet
wide by three foot deep and six feet high. There were no windows, only a metal
grill in the door which allowed me brief glimpses of the security officers. I
could hear a gentle hissing and when I looked in the direction of the sound I
realised it came from the air conditioning grill in the ceiling, no wonder the
cell felt cold rather than hot and stale as I had expected. There
was no hope of escape, no way of me talking or forcing my way out of this
situation I found myself in. My spirits sank as the seat vibrated beneath me
and I felt the gentle acceleration of the prison van as it left the secure
court compound for the prison where I would serve out my sentence. It was a
bumpy ride and to steady myself I wedged my shoulders into a corner and my feet
in the opposing corner. Bored and with nothing to look at I closed my eyes, a
big mistake, for instantly I was transported back to the court room where the
magistrate announced my sentence. I could still hear his pompous voice ring out
across the room like an out of tune bell, each word had jarred my nerves. "Mr Conniston, you have shown little regard for the victims of
your prolific acts of criminality and even less for the advice the police
constabulary have given you over the years. I therefore have no choice but to
sentence you to a three month custodial sentence with parole set at six weeks.
May this sentence serve as a wakeup call." With
his short speech over I was told to stand up before being quickly handcuffed by
the security guard. Too stunned by the sentencing to respond to the advice
being given to me by my solicitor (not that I ever had otherwise I wouldn't be
in this position in the first place) I simply nodded in all the right places.
The security guard led me out through the back of the court room, down a
starkly lit corridor and out into the compound where the prison van was waiting
for me. I
opened my eyes to blot out the vision and focused on trying not to get thrown
around like a lonely bean in a tin can, so it was with a mixture of relief and
fear that I realised the vehicle had come to a halt and the engine had been
switched off. For several minutes I sat there listening to the muffled voices
of the security guards as they off loaded other prisoners from the van. Finally
it was my turn and I was released from my cell, escorted off the van and across
the yard to the main entrance to the prison. As I
walked towards the keypad controlled door I could not help but smile to myself
at the irony of the notice above the door 'Welcome to HMP Weydown',
who were they kidding? No one in their right mind would want to visit a prison,
whether as a guest of her majesty or as a visitor. Certainly not me! It
was only once inside and standing before the reception desk was I finally
released from the hand cuffs. The receptionist scowled as she asked me to
confirm my name, place and date of birth. "Rhys
Conniston, Crawley, 18th June 1987." She
muttered to herself as she checked her records before she found mine and then
told the guards to take me on through. Through to where? I asked myself. I was
about to find out as the guard escorting me guided (pushed) me towards another
controlled access door, after keying in the access code he stepped to one side
and I walked into what looked like a cross between an interview room and an
airport security gate. Immediately in front of me was a metal detector loop
which I was told to step through slowly. As I did so it bleeped loudly, both my
guard and the prison officer standing by the only other door in the room sighed
loudly. Almost in unison they announced this meant a strip search, as if I had
caused them the greatest inconvenience in the world. I
was told to remove my jumper which I did and placed it on the desk before
walking back through the metal detector but still it bleeped. So off came my
T-shirt revealing the Celtic tattoo I have covering my right bicep and along
with two nipple rings. Smiling in satisfaction my guard told me to remove them
both, I went to protest but from his expression I realised that I had no
choice, either I did it or he would. With fumbling fingers I managed to remove
the rings and once again stepped through the detector. Again it bleeped,
clearly bored with this game the prison officer told me to strip down to my
briefs which I did so reluctantly taking my time to neatly fold my jeans and
stuff my socks into my trainers. Still the bloody machine bleeped and I was
getting nervous for there was little else to remove and I knew I wasn't hiding
anything. My
guard stood close beside me and growled into my ear saying "better remove those
pants of yours and we'll have a look inside to see what you're hiding". I
glanced sideways at him, gulped before I slipped my fingers into the waistband
of my briefs and pushed them down to my ankles. I stepped out of them and
placed them with the rest of my clothing before covering my assets with my
hands as best I could. Chuckling at my embarrassment the prison officer slipped
on a pair of latex gloves and removed a tube of KY from the desk drawer, then
told me to bend over and grab my knees. Following
his instructions I looked down at my feet trying my best to ignore the guards
derogatory comments and the finger busy applying the cold lubricant to my anus.
Without any consideration to my comfort he rammed his finger up inside me,
drawing a groan from me, felt all around and then just as quickly withdrew. "Okay,
there's nothing concealed up there" the officer informed me "you can stand up
again." I
did as instructed told but forgot to cover my modesty and in doing so revealed
the Prince Albert piercing hanging from my knob end. "Why
didn't you tell us about that?" the officer asked frowning. "You
never asked" I replied shrugging my shoulders. "Don't
be a smart arse in here" he whispered into my ear "otherwise you're going to
get on the wrong side of some inmates that you really don't want to and they
will make your life very unpleasant" To
emphasise the point he grabbed my balls and gave them a sharp tug downwards
causing me to yelp in reaction to the sudden pain. "Understand?"
he asked before adding "now remove the piecing in your dick." I
nodded in response as tears pricked my eyes while I fumbled to remove the
Prince Albert. Once the ring was out I stepped through the metal detector which
this time failed to sound the alarm to both my relief and theirs. With the body
search over I was allowed to put my pants back on before being issued with
prison regulation clothes; jogging bottoms, boxer shorts, socks, T-shirts and
jumpers. I was allowed to keep my trainers but all my other belongings were
confiscated and would only to be returned on my release. The final part of
kitting me out was a thin duvet and a pillow both vacuum packed together in a
polythene bag. Dressed
in my new clothes and carrying the rest of my belongings I followed the prison
officer back through to main reception and carried on walking along the
corridor to another set of controlled access doors. This time the doors were
manually locked rather than being key pad controlled, as I stepped through them
and the officer locked the door behind me my heart sank with each chink of his
keys. Somehow the sound of a key turning in a lock seemed to reinforce the fact
that I was being locked up so much more forcefully than the quiet tap tap on a keypad. He
must have noticed my expression for with a chuckle he quipped "cheer up young
man. You're only in here for three months, if you keep your nose clean you'll
be out even quicker. It's not so bad once you get used to it." I
just looked at him, unsure if to believe him or not, then forced a smile and
said "thanks". "Right
let's get you settled in, I'll take you to your cell and you can make yourself
at home" he said as he led me through a series of doors locking each one behind
me as we went through them. Deeper
into the prison he led me and as he did so the clamour from the inmates
increased until I wasn't sure if I was in a prison or lunatic asylum! Finally
we walked onto the prison wing which to my untrained eye appeared crowded and
chaotic and incredibly noisy. But as we were spotted the wing fell silent and
all eyes watched our progress along the walkway and up the staircase onto the
first floor landing. Slowly the talking resumed and the volume increased again.
Although I avoided making eye contact with anyone I could not help but be aware
that a few guys openly studied me, where that was a good or bad thing I didn't
know. Chapter
2 Finally
we stopped outside cell B48, the door was ajar and without hesitation the
officer pushed the door open wide and stepped back to allow me to enter
through. I
quickly glanced around the cell as I walked inside. It was bigger than I had
imagined it to be, enough space for two occupants judging by the two single
beds in the room. There was also a toilet, a washbasin with mirror and shelving
on either side along with two small cupboards at the foot of each bed.
Immediately in front of me was a small narrow window with bars preventing any
possible escape from within, to my surprise there were curtains on either side
of the window. For some reason I had thought curtains would not be permitted, I
guess that shows how naive I was at that point! To my left I noticed a cork
board with various photos pinned to it in the form of a collage, from what I
could tell they appeared to be family photos judging by the facial similarity
between the people in them. It
was at that point I heard a quiet rustling noise of pages being turned. Looking
in the direction of the noise, which came from behind the open door, I saw the
figure of a man (from the waist down) laying on the bed to my left. As the officer
closed the cell door behind me the man was revealed in full. I would have put
him in his fifties judging by his greying short cropped hair and wrinkled face.
He appeared to be well built verging on overweight and wore the regulation
T-shirt and jogging bottoms. At that point he was reading a well worn paperback
book until he heard the cell door click shut, with a quiet sigh he folded a
corner of a page and closed the book. Placing it gently on the bed beside him
he looked over in my direction and studied me with the same expression I had
seen on some of the other inmate's faces earlier. Felling
a little uncomfortable I smiled tentatively and said "Hi, I'm Rhys. I guess
this is my bed?" as I placed my armful of belongings on the empty bed. "You
guessed right, quick aren't you?" he replied in a tone that was just a little
sarcastic. |