Chris Cavanagh: The Prison Rape Diaries

I had been locked up for a little over a year now. I was consumed with regret for what I did, flipping drugs and shit. Just a young thug trying to make money, ya know? But I guess every dog has his day, and they finally got me, and gave me three fucking years.

I guess the main thing I hated about prison was being away from my family. I missed my happy-go-lucky dad, my cool and psychotic kid brother, and my little diva of a sister. But hey, they wrote me letters damn near every week, and visited as often as they could, so it’s not like I’d lost contact with them. But it wasn’t the same as seeing them on a regular basis, ya know? Drinking beers and barbecuing on the grill with the family, smoking up and putting on the gloves and throwing hands with Dad and Cody, chasing off guys trying to hit on Donna just for a laugh…

I missed all the tight young pussy too (no, not THAT young), so going without it had me pretty fucked up. And I had already established from day one (with my bare-knuckled fists) that I wasn’t down for giving up my ass to ANYONE…

Which I guess leads to a good thing about prison life; motherfuckers in here respected me. Whether that was because they really liked me, or because they had seen that beatdown I’d laid on that little bitch, I wasn’t sure. I only had one really good friend in there; my main nigga and cellmate, Donnie, who was doing time for involuntary manslaughter (he had caught his girlfriend’s ex raping her and had beaten him to death with his bare hands). Since I had high respect for anyone who dealt out vigilante justice, he and I got on really well. We looked out for each other on the little shit (you know, cigarettes, some Playboys, etc.), and had each other’s backs in the yard.

So I guess you could say that, compared to some other dudes, prison life was fairly easy for me, despite my regrets for even landing myself in there. I stayed out of trouble most of the time, and I was easily able to defend myself if someone wanted to start some shit with me. I never started shit with anyone. Until that day…

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It was a blazing afternoon in July. Donnie and I were out in the prison yard, pumping some iron. I was benching over 250 by now and was starting to show it. I set the barbell down and caught my breath, sweating while Donnie added a couple more weights.

“Inmate 1991420!”

I looked up at the sound of my number to see Mr. Moody, one of the prison guards, standing a few feet away. I jumped up and walked over towards him.

“Yes, sir?”

“The warden would like a word with you.”

Some of the other inmates in the yard catcalled and jeered. Usually when someone was called directly into the warden’s office, it meant they were in BIG trouble. But I could see in Moody’s eyes that that wasn’t the case here; he was one of the guards I was on good terms with, and I could usually read his expression.

“Yes, sir,” I said contentedly. Donnie tossed me my shirt and I put it on, following Moody across the yard to the main building where the warden’s office was.

As soon as the door was closed behind us, Moody let his guard down.

“Don’t worry buddy, you ain’t in trouble,” he said. “But the warden’s got something here you might wanna see.” He had a sudden serious look in his eyes that I couldn’t ignore. This was something big…

“Alright, man,” I said, giving him a buddy punch on the shoulder. He winced.

“Ow! You’ve been pumping too much iron, kid.”

“Pussy ass nigga,” I said, grinning, and he gave a small smirk too; we always fucked around like this. We reached the warden’s office door and Moody knocked.

“Mr. Moody bringing Christopher Cavanagh to see you, sir,” he called through the door.

“Send him in,” I heard the warden reply.

Moody unlocked and opened the door, and I stepped into the warden’s office for the first time. It was a small room, nothing fancy about it; it looked like just about any high-ranked person’s office. A small golden plaque sat on the desk bearing the warden’s name, Ronald Gallagher. He was a rather short, stout, middle-aged man with streaks of gray in his short, black hair. He wore glasses that in themselves looked quite professional, and his suit looked fresh out of the dry cleaners’.

“Good afternoon, Christopher,” he said in a kindly voice as I stood in front of him. “Feel free to take a seat.”

I sat down in the chair in front of his desk, wondering the reason he had randomly called me into his office. He offered me a cigarette, and I took it and lit up.

“I hope you’ve been staying out of trouble, young man,” said Gallagher.

“Absolutely, sir,” I said in the mature voice I reserved for talking to authority figures.

“I’ll cut right to the chase,” he said. “Next week, we’re getting a busload of new inmates. I believe one of them is someone you may know. Does the name Logan Dawson ring a bell?”

I gave him a puzzled look. Logan Dawson? Somehow the name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it…

“Well, as you know,” continued Gallagher, “everyone here gives a pre-interview on what they’ve done, including their past misdeeds, before they come to this prison. Well, in Mr. Dawson’s interview, he brought up something rather interesting.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, still looking at him, confused.

“Perhaps you should see for yourself,” he replied. “Now this may shock you, or perhaps even infuriate you,” he said, searching for something on his laptop. “But I feel it’s only fair that you hear it straight from the horse’s mouth.”

He found what he was looking for and turned the computer to face me. A video was playing in which a skinny, middle-aged man in shackles and an orange jumpsuit was being interviewed. There was something about his face that also looked familiar, but again, I couldn’t think what it was.

“What’s your name?” asked a voice from off-camera.

“I’m Logan Dawson,” the man replied in a low and somewhat timid voice.

“And what have you been sentenced for?”

“Possession of child pornography,” said Logan. “And having sex with children.”

Immediately I felt my insides turn to fire, and bitter anger flooded my mind. I fucking HATED pedophiles…

The interview went on for a couple of minutes where Logan went into detail about the kiddie porn tapes he watched, and the children he had fiddled around with. I didn’t know who this man was (or so I thought), but with each passing second I hated his fucking guts more and more, even finding myself subconsciously thinking of ways to torture that nigga. But then…

“And when did you first start molesting young boys?” asked the interviewer.

“I suppose about fourteen or so years ago,” said Logan. “I was working in a pawn shop with my buddy Bill.”

Suddenly my eyes went wide. Now I knew where the name sounded familiar! He was my dad’s work partner so many years ago!

“And there were a few days when he brought his two sons to work with him. I could barely take my eyes off of them, especially his older boy.”

The realization was slowly but surely coming to me, and I stiffened in the chair, my blood running cold.

“Anyway, I finally found him in the bathroom at the mall one day. I was really horny, and a little drugged up, I’ll admit. I saw that fine boy go into the stall and I followed him in there. And… and… I just couldn’t keep my hands off him. His skin was so smooth, his little mouth so wet…”

“And do you remember what his name was?” asked the interviewer.

Logan paused for a moment, contemplating. Then he said, slowly, “Cavanagh. Little Chris Cavanagh.”

I jumped to my feet, horrified, breathing deep and heavy, my stomach feeling like it was tied up in knots; I was looking at the man who had molested me in a mall bathroom when I was only nine years old.

“I—I—,” I stammered, looking from the computer to Gallagher and back again. My stomach clenched tightly. Seeing a trash can by the door, I ran over to it and puked violently for a few moments. I sank to the floor, wiping my mouth, groaning and coughing. Warden Gallagher looked over at me with a sympathetic expression on his face.

“I suppose I don’t need to do any guesswork as to whom he’s referring?” he asked.

“No,” I said in a low snarl. The initial shock was wearing off now, and was being replaced by rage. “Don’t let that fucker anywhere near me, or I’ll fuckin’ kill him.”

“Well, I was just getting to that,” said Gallagher. “I know that apart from all the drugs and stuff you were involved with, you’re an all-around good person. And one thing I’ve always said, and believed in, is that NO child deserves to go through what you did. I’d show more respect to a drug dealer than a pedophile any day. So if you want, I can set it up for you to get a little taste of revenge.”

I looked at him, interested. The idea of getting revenge on the man who had traumatized me was quite intriguing, but at the same time, I knew the things I was capable of; I had studied illegal forms of martial arts and fighting; I knew how and where to hit someone to put them in excruciating pain, and I knew how to quickly end a motherfucker’s life. I was already doing a three-year sentence, and the idea of having that extended to life for murder wasn’t exactly appealing.

“An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,” said Gallagher. “All child molesters deserve every bit of pain they have coming to them, right?”

Now the rage I felt was taking a sadistic turn. I could just imagine Logan at my mercy, screaming in agony as I inflicted beating after beating upon him, making sure he would never forget me…

I rose to my feet, giving Warden Gallagher a cold, hard look.

“You goddamn right,” I said flatly, and I extended my hand, and he shook it.

“And if you must know,” he said, also giving me an icy stare, “I know for a fact that he also molested my daughter just a few years ago when she was only eight years old, not long before I came here. I can hook you up with everything you’ll need. You just make sure he SUFFERS.”

“Don’t you worry, man,” I replied, scowling straight into his eyes so he knew I meant fucking business. “This little punk-ass nigga is gonna be in pain beyond anything he can imagine…”

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“Damn, my nigga. That’s some pretty crazy shit.”

Donnie and I were back in our cell that evening. I had just gotten done telling him about what had gone down in the warden’s office, and about what Logan had done to me so many years ago.

“You sure that dude was talking about you?”

“No bullshit, yo,” I replied. “He even said my mothafuckin’ name!”

“Man, I’m sorry you went through that shit, bro,” said Donnie, looking at me with a half-pitying, half-fearful expression.

I clenched my fists, shaking with rage. “You have no idea, dog,” I said, my voice rising steadily and growing more panicked. “That shit had me fucked up for years. I wouldn’t even let my brother or my old man touch me after that! I got in hella fights in school and shit, damn near killed a couple of dudes, gettin’ all freaked out and—”

Donnie reached over and punched me in the jaw, HARD. I was dazed for a moment, then came to my senses.

“Thanks, buddy,” I said as my panic died down. He lit two cigarettes and handed me one of them. I took a few hits and managed to calm down a bit.

“But yeah,” I continued. “That nigga fucked my life up for a while there. He fuckin’ went ghost after I told my family what he did, and we spent a good time tryin’ to hunt his ass down.”

“Well hey,” Donnie said, “ain’t it some kind of twist of fate that he’s about to walk in and see you again? You ain’t so little now, homie. Get some revenge while it’s still cold.”

I put my arm around Donnie’s shoulders and gave him a stony glare.

“My nigga,” I said icily, “when I get my mothafuckin’ hands on Logan Dawson, you’re gonna see the side of me that nobody EVER wants to see.”

For a moment, I thought he might freak out at the fact that I was gonna go psycho on a bitch ass chomo. But then I remembered; here’s a motherfucker who killed a rapist with his mere fists. I knew he understood me, and wouldn’t blame me or shame me if I tortured and beat that kiddie fiddler to death.

He grinned at me and reached his fist towards me. “Vigilante, mothafucka.”

Bumping my fist against his, I said “Damn fuckin’ straight, brother.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I spent the better part of the week leading up to Logan’s arrival either in the yard lifting weights or in the gym working the punching bags, channeling my rage into every lift, every punch, everything I did. I hardly seemed to run out of energy, which I won’t lie, scared me a little. My anger was just a fuel for the fire, and instead of burning out, it just grew more intense by the hour. And even after I was done, I still was never satisfied. It seemed like I wouldn’t fully get all this bitter fury out until I was face-to-face with my victim.

The prisoners were starting to fear me more than ever now; in the past year I had gone through a growth spurt and was getting really buff by now, not to mention the fact that I had a naturally mean-looking face, which nowadays was almost always looking pissed the fuck off. Here and there I overheard comments like “I wonder who took a big shit in Cavanagh’s Lucky Charms?” (a pun on me being of Irish descent), or “That nigga Chris looks like he could snap any day now.” If only they knew how much of an understatement their little smart-ass remarks were…

The day before Logan arrived, the warden called me in. He said his plan was to give him a decent element of surprise. He was going to put me in the hole for a couple of days so that Logan wouldn’t even know I was here. This was totally fine by me; the solitude would allow my rage to consume me, so that when I finally got my hands on that fucker, there would be no mercy. Just pure, unadulterated, fucking fury…

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Two days later, the door to the solitary-confinement cell opened, and the light from the hallway blinded me for a moment. I looked up to see Warden Gallagher looking down at me sitting on the floor.

“You ready for some payback, kid?” he asked.

Slowly I stood up, not taking my eyes off him. I was a good few inches taller than he was, and even though he knew I respected him, I could see fear in his eyes.

“I’ve been waiting for this day for fourteen years,” I said in a low snarl. “Let me at him.”

I followed him down the hall as he gave me the setup.

“We’ve got Logan locked up in a solitary cell, bound, gagged and blindfolded. You’ll find all you’ll need in there. I can’t wait to hear that bastard scream.”

“I dunno, man,” I said anxiously. “You could very well end up with a murder in your fuckin’ prison today. I REALLY feel like I’m gonna end this nigga’s life.”

“Well, you could always try some of this,” said Gallagher, and he reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of pills.

“What you got there, huh?”

“This is the shit I take when I wanna give my old lady the ROUGH work,” he said. “You say you REALLY wanna hurt him, what better way?”

I stopped in my tracks, realizing what he was getting at.

“Yo, whoa! Hold the fuck up, man. I don’t know if I’m down for that shit, now.”

“I’ll understand if you’re not down for it, because I know you don’t swing that way. But think about it,” he added, “I’m sure you’re one of the guys who’s always saying ‘child molesters deserve to get raped in prison,’ am I right or wrong?”

“Hmmmm….”

“And think about this, you were the first kid that he ever—well, you know. Why not likewise be the first to deal out some good old-fashioned prison justice? He made your life hell; you can make his seven times worse.”

“Well now…”

“And trust me, those pills make you SUPER aggressive, and they keep your dick hard for a couple of hours. They’ll be PERFECT for the state you’re in. You’ll be hurting him for a good while.”

I paused and thought about it, voices running through my head…

Is it any different from fucking a girl in the ass?… You can fuck his even harder… But I’m straight… This ain’t about sex, it’s about payback, motherfucker!… It’s what you’ve always said would happen to the pervs in prison… You built up this rage, now dump it all into Logan… Logan… Logan…

“Give me those fuckin’ pills,” I said to the warden, holding my hand out. “I got you on some smokes later.”

“Oh, no need to worry about the smokes,” he said as he handed me the pills and a bottle of water. “Logan’s screams are the only payment I’ll need.”

I gulped down the pills and chugged the water, and we continued on our way. We walked on for several minutes, going outside the main cellblock to a special solitary-type cellblock at the other end of the prison. Inmates watched us pass, looking frightened by my mean mug. I ignored the people who even said “What’s good, homie?” to me; I just stared straight ahead. My mind was focused on making this man suffer… pain…torture… And now I could feel my hormones really starting to pump up, and I was getting more and more hyped up and ready to inflict a beating like no other on this nigga…

I think it was at that point that I officially snapped…

The warden and I entered the cellblock, which only had six large cells, but in the supermax type where they have thick walls but no bars. He led me to the last door on the right. I could hear Logan’s muffled voice faintly through the door, and I clenched my fists tightly.

“He’s all yours,” said Gallagher, and he unlocked the door. I stepped into the cell, and barely had I heard the lock click back behind me, than I saw him. Sitting on the floor, handcuffed to the bed, butt-ass naked with duct tape on his mouth and a blindfold over his eyes. The man who would now reap his reward for what he put me through…

I took off my shirt, and ripped the tape off his mouth, and he grunted in pain. “W-what the hell is going on?” he yelled, panicked. I pulled the blindfold off and he blinked for a moment before realizing I was standing over him.

“Remember me, bitch?”

I drove every bit of my strength into the first punch, landing my fist on his nose, and making a satisfying cracking sound. Blood gushed from Logan’s nostrils, and the force of the blow threw him backwards.

“NOT SO LITTLE NOW, AM I?!” I roared, and I dived on him, punching anywhere and everywhere I could reach. He yelled in pain as I rained my fists down on his face, wanting to break his fucking skull with every blow. Unable to use his arms to shield his face, he squirmed around desperately, but I just kept hitting him, landing some nasty body punches too.

I grabbed him up by the hair and got up in his bloody face.

“Talk about the past comin’ back to bite ya in the ass, huh?” I yelled, and I threw him back to the ground and started stomping his gut like I was determined to put a hole in his torso. Groaning in pain, he puked a couple of times from me kicking him in the liver and stomping on his stomach, but I didn’t care. He was going to regret the day he laid a hand on me…

I stomped on the handcuffs hard enough to break them, and I dragged Logan by the hair over to the bed.

“Little child-molesting faggot!” I yelled, smacking him in the face. “You wanna do that shit to little kids, nigga? You wanna do that shit to ME, motherfucka?!”

“I-I-I d-don’t know w-what—”

“The fuck you don’t!” I snapped, throwing a haymaker down into his head. “Nine years old, nigga? NINE YEARS OLD?! MY DAD TRUSTED YOU, MY BROTHER TRUSTED YOU, I TRUSTED YOU!”

I slammed his head against the edge of the bed and he went down, totally dazed.

“You’re about to find out what happens to little punks like you that wanna mess with kids.”

I could feel the pills starting to kick in now, which pumped my adrenaline and my testosterone. Even now I could feel my dick starting to grow hard, even though I wasn’t exactly horny.

I pulled him up and bent his skinny ass over the bed, undoing my pants and whipping out my stiff dick. I grabbed his arms and used one hand to pin his wrists behind his back.

“Let’s see how much you like it now, bitch!” I growled, and I forced my thick 11-inch cock into Logan’s dry virgin ass.

Logan let out a hair-raising squeal as I tore into him, and suddenly I couldn’t stop myself. I started fucking his ass harder than I’d ever fucked any girl (which was saying something, because I was one aggressive dude when it came to fucking chicks). My hormones were in full rage mode now and were kicking my hostility up several notches. I used my free hand to mash his head down into the hard mattress, so he had nowhere to go from my firm grip. His screams were music to my fucking ears.

“Yeah, scream for Daddy, nigga!” I yelled, driving my knuckles into the back of his head.

“HELP ME! HELP MEEE!” he sobbed.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I shouted with another punch. The agony was making his ass tighten around my cock, and I can’t lie, it felt kinda good. Deeper and harder I went, determined to destroy his guts, hellbent on putting him through hell. I could feel his insides starting to bleed as I raped him. This went on for about ten minutes; I fucked him hard and fast, driving every inch of my cock into his faggot ass, smashing my fists into his skull, and he gave agonized shrieks.

I pulled myself out, and Logan lay on the bed, groaning and sobbing. Looking down at my dick, I saw that it was covered in blood and shit.

“Ah, you nasty fuckin’ bitch!” I said. “I don’t like nobody shittin’ on me. You fuckin’ clean this shit.”

I grabbed him by the hair and forced him to kneel down in front of me.

“Suck my cock, you chomo faggot!” I demanded. He looked up at me repulsively and tried to pull away, but I gave him another brutal punch which dazed him.

“I said suck it!”

“Get off me!” he said, trying to pull away again. I brought my knee up and struck him in the mouth. He fell back against the bed, clutching his bleeding lips. I reached down to my pants around my ankles and pulled from the pocket a long metal shank. I held the sharp point in between his eyebrows, and he went cross-eyed to keep it in view.

“What do you want in your head, bitch?” I said in a calm voice. “Eleven inches of man meat, or eleven inches of razor-sharp steel?”

His face screwed up and he started sobbing again. “Please…” he begged. “Please, I’m sorry, I should have never—”

I pulled the shank back and slashed a cut across his cheek. He screamed in pain and I seized the opportunity to force my filthy cock into his open mouth.

“Yeah, how you like that dirty Sanchez, ya little bitch?” I snarled as he gagged from the smell and taste of his excrement. “You fuckin’ clean my dick off, and you better fuckin’ swallow that shit.”

He attempted to push me off, but I wasn’t having that. I tossed the shank aside, and reached out and pinned his hands above his head on the bed.

“Nah nigga, you ain’t getting’ away!” I said with a sadistic laugh. “You fuckin’ work that tongue on my dick real good or I’ll kill you. Find out if I’m lyin’!”

Realizing that I meant business, he reluctantly started sucking. I groaned in pleasure as he licked up the bloody, shitty mess.

“Damn, that feels good,” I said teasingly to freak him out. “Think my mouth felt good? You got that good head game.”

All he could do was sob in a muffled voice. I pushed my cock a little deeper into his mouth, hitting the back of his throat.

“Watch those teeth, bitch,” I said, smacking him in the face as I felt his jaw contract. He choked and retched as my big dick invaded his throat. “You gonna learn to deepthroat today, yo.” I pushed myself in fully now and reached down and pinched his nose shut, cutting off his air completely. He writhed and gagged, trying to free himself, but I was too strong for him. I held myself there for about 20 seconds, watching his face turn purple as his struggling became weaker.

I finally pulled out and he fell to the floor, gasping and coughing, choked from the thick saliva that had built up in his mouth. I looked down and saw that he had managed to clean me off.

I only let him off for a few seconds, though; he was still coughing when I picked him up off the floor and threw him on the bed, positioning him so that his head was hanging off the edge. I pinned his hands to his chest with one hand, and used the other to direct my cock back to his mouth.

“Open up, punk!” I snapped. He sobbed, but parted his lips slightly. “Little bitch, acting like you can’t even take a fuckin’ dick?” I shoved myself in vehemently, and I felt my balls against his nose. “Ever been skullfucked?” I said. Without waiting for an answer, I began fucking his mouth hard, shoving my cock all the way in and partially out over and over. He squirmed around to try to get away, but to no avail. I continued fucking his face like the bitch he was, every now and then reaching down and punching him in the balls, making him yell in pain. Thick white slobber erupted from his mouth from time to time, and was starting to fill his nose, so after a good few minutes, I pulled out and gave him a chance to breathe, little though he deserved it.

By now I was actually starting to thoroughly enjoy torturing the pedo; I could feel a huge nut starting to build up inside me. I pulled Logan up and got in his face.

“Up yo ass or down ya throat?” I demanded.

“W-what do you—”

“Up yo ass or down ya throat?!” I repeated, jabbing him in the jaw.

“But-but—”

Since he couldn’t seem to decide where he wanted me to bust my first nut, I made up his mind for him; I threw him back onto the bed on his back, held his legs in the air, and shoved my cock back up his ass. He screamed again as I penetrated him. I wrapped my hands around his neck and began pounding again. I roared obscenities in his face and choked and punched him as I went, unleashing fourteen years’ fury onto the sick fuck. His screams became squeals, like an animal caught in a woodchipper, which just pumped me up to keep going.

The extreme pain was making him tighten his ass around my dick, and before long I could feel the burning in my nads and the swelling of my dick.

“Oh fuck yeah bitch, I’m gonna make ya have my baby!” I yelled. I gripped his throat tightly and plowed as hard as I could for a few moments. And finally with a guttural roar, I felt my cock explode as I released my jizz into the freak’s unwilling ass. He lay beneath me, bawling as I loaded him up. I held my cock in, making sure I dumped every bit of nut deep in his ass.

“Yeah that’s right, bitch,” I growled in his face. “Take that nut in ya tight little pussy.”

He only looked at me, his face flushed, bloody, and tear-streaked, sniveling. Once I felt that every drop had been expelled, I yanked myself out. He yelled as his ass spasmed, expelling a mixture of cum and blood all over the bed. I let go of his legs and then straddled his chest, putting my still-hard dick in his face.

“Clean that shit,” I demanded, pointing at my dick laced with blood and cum. I didn’t wait for him to open his mouth; I just went ahead and shoved myself all the way into his mouth. He choked and wailed as I invaded his throat, helpless to push me off. “Work that tongue!” I barked, and I felt him start licking with the little room he had. I held my cock in his mouth until I felt his tongue hit every inch of my dick.

I climbed off him and looked down at his cut and bruised face. His expression clearly said ‘I never thought this would happen, messing around with kids.’ If I hadn’t been so full of rage at the time, I might have actually felt sorry for him.

Dismissing my brief moment of pity, I yanked him by the hair again.

“I hope you don’t think I’m done with yo bitch ass!” I said, and I turned him around and shoved his face into the nasty puddle of blood and semen that had gushed from his butt. “Yeah, lick that shit up,” I said, rubbing his face into the sticky mess as he groaned in disgust.

I pulled him to his feet. “I’mma make sure every part of your body is in PAIN,” I snarled, and clenching my fist, I drove a heavy left hook directly into his liver. He collapsed instantly, seizing up and groaning in pain (trust me, liver shots HURT LIKE HELL).

I looked over to the other side of the cell, where there was a cabinet. Remembering what Warden Gallagher had said about hooking me up with torture materials, I went to see what was in it. It wasn’t much, but it was perfect for me to work with. The first things I picked up were a long thin cable cord and another set of handcuffs.

I walked over to the bed, where Logan was still on the floor in agony. I grabbed his wrists and cuffed his hands around the bed frame.

“Far from done, bitch,” I said in a low voice, and I grabbed the cord, folded it in half, and began whipping Logan’s back. It wasn’t until a few lashes in that he started screaming again; he writhed and twisted as the cord stung his skin over and over, leaving red welts. He was writhing so much that I wasn’t just getting his back, but his whole body. Before long, a lot of the welts had started bleeding, so now in addition to the drying puddle of puke from earlier, the tile floor was streaked with red.

I whipped him until he fell unconscious from the pain. Welts and cuts covered almost every inch of his body; chest, stomach, arms, back, legs, and ass. I figured there was no point in beating him when he couldn’t feel it, so I decided to take a break and got a cigarette out of my pocket. I sat on the bed, taking drags and thinking what else I could do to the man who molested me…

I was about halfway done with my cig, when I decided to wake Logan up in a sadistic way. I reached down and held the lit end against the head of his shriveled little baby dick. In about a second he came back to life with a squeal, wiggling.

“What’s the matter, bitch?” I yelled. “Does that hurt?”

He didn’t answer, but lay there, whimpering. I bent down to put another burn on his dick, but he writhed so hard that he ended up kicking me in the face.

I was stunned for a moment, then I stomped on his balls. He gave a loud groan of pain, and the next thing I knew, I was burning any part of skin I could reach. I left at least three burns each on every part of his body, except for his chest, which I took time to brand the word CHOMO into, so that everyone would know what he was. He was screaming the entire time, and I fucking LOVED it…

Taking a few more drags, I finally stubbed out my cigarette on his belly and walked over to the cabinet to see what else was in there. I saw more stuff for corporal punishment, but decided to pass on that; I had my rock-hard fists for that. Instead, I looked down and saw a few dildos in varying sizes. The smallest one was slightly bigger than my own cock; the largest just smaller than my muscular forearm.

I decided to use both the small and the large, and I took them over to the bed. Logan was still laying there, bruised, bloodied, burned and violated, tears streaming down his face. When he saw the two dildos I was holding, his eyes went wide.

“No!” he said, struggling against the handcuffs locked around the bed frame. “Please no!” He got halfway up, then screamed and collapsed from the pain of his injuries. I picked him up and positioned him onto the bed on his stomach, still handcuffed to the frame.

“You fixin’ to be droppin’ turds all over the place once I’m done with this pussy,” I said in a dangerous voice, grabbing the small dildo. I jumped on the bed behind him and used my knees to pin his legs down painfully. His asshole was laced with dried blood and nut juice, and had probably tightened up from the agony I had put him through thus far.

“Let’s see how much you can take, little fag,” I hissed, and I forced the dildo into his ass. He screamed loudly as the extra width suddenly stretched his hole further. I shoved it in deeper, stretching his walls out until I hit the second sphincter, and then I pushed on until it was in his ass to the hilt. His screams increased in volume as I began pumping the fake dick in and out of his ass, fast and hard. He shook with every thrust, but with his arms cuffed to the bed and his legs pinned by my knees, there was absolutely nowhere he could writhe to.

“Shut the fuck up and take it, bitch!” I yelled, punching him in the back of the head. Amid pleas for me to stop, I just kept punishing his chomo asshole. Since he didn’t stop while he was molesting me (and who knows how many other kids), his pleas fell on deaf ears.

I only stopped when he passed out again. What a weak little bitch! So I took another smoke break, surveying the damage I had done so far. I didn’t feel a single ounce of remorse looking at the wounds all over his body and the blood leaking from his ass. I wondered vaguely if any of the other prisoners could top what I had done when they met this guy (or any other child molesters); I had done a serious number on this bitch ass nigga.

Finishing my cigarette, I stubbed it out on Logan’s butt cheek, waking him back up with a yelp of pain, and he groaned as the aches on the rest of his body throbbed as well.

“Morning, bitch,” I said from behind him, and I didn’t proceed to say anything else; I grabbed the bigger dildo and began to push it into his ass. He screamed louder than ever as the biggest dick he’d ever taken invaded his anus. But because the dildo was so big, and because I had no lube, I had a little trouble at first. Didn’t fucking matter; I wanted to make damn sure this hurt like hell.

Slowly the giant dildo slid in, forcing his hole to stretch even more. It was one hell of a tight squeeze for such a little faggot. I put some serious muscle behind my thrusts and the dildo was jammed in several inches. Logan screamed at the top of his lungs as he was violated.

“Shut up, you know you like that shit!” I said, slapping his welt-covered ass hard and making him shriek again. With one more thrust, I pushed the dildo fully into his guts. He squealed and tried uselessly to get away from me. I began to fuck him just as I had done with the smaller toy; hard, rough, and deep, ripping his intestines apart, making him suffer this endless pain. He screamed and jittered and cried for help, but no help was coming for him, or any other pedophile.

I finally got tired of dildoing him, and pulled the big toy out, tossing it aside. It was then that I noticed that my dick was STILL hard. The warden was right; those pills really DID make you stay hard for a long time!

I had already dumped a load in his ass, and fucking him again would be totally redundant since the dildos were bigger than my cock. So I hopped off the bed and flipped him onto his back so that his head was hanging off the edge again. I ran back over to the cabinet and pulled out a mouth ring, which I fastened around Logan’s head, forcing his mouth wide open.

“Gimme that throat, bitch,” I said, and I forced my dick deep into his mouth. He choked as my dick slid down his throat, all the way to the balls. His legs flailed in the air in protest, and I grabbed them, holding them steady.

“You gonna swallow my fuckin’ nut, nigga,” I snarled, “whether you like it or not! You gonna get used to this shit all the time up in this bitch!”

He continued to resist, his bawling muffled through the thick cock in his mouth as I starting fucking his face. But I still wanted to hurt him, so I pulled one of his legs up and started forcing one of my heavily knuckled fists into his asshole. My fist was wider than the big dildo, so now I was stretching him out to the extreme; his squeals filled my ears like a beautiful symphony. It’s a good thing I was tall and had long arms, because I was easily able to facefuck and fistfuck him at the same time.

Deeper and deeper I shoved my arm into his guts, and over and over he screamed around my cock, sending vibrations through it.

“Fuck yeah, bitch! That feels good as hell!” I said. “You keep on doin’ that, faggot.”

Pushing hard, I forced my arm into Logan’s intestines up to the elbow. He screamed and twitched, and I felt his ripped hole squeezing around my arm. I yanked my arm out and then punched HARD back in, making him yell again. For a few minutes I punched his ass and fucked his throat until I could feel myself ready to bust again. I was pumping my arm in and out of his hole as hard and fast as I could, and shoving my cock down his throat as deep as I could.

“Come on, fucker! Here it comes!”

Resting my balls on his face, I roared as I finally nutted again, filling his throat with my sperm. He choked and groaned at the taste of it, still blubbering. I held myself there for about 15 seconds, until my cock stopped spasming. I pulled myself out, giving him a chance to breathe, but he was still groaning from the pain of my fist up his ass. I pistoned my arm in and out of his hole for a few more minutes before I finally pulled it out. My arm was streaked with intestinal blood, and I wiped it clean on the bedsheets. Logan lay there, whimpering in pain and humiliation, looking up at me glaring down at him.

“That’s what you get for fuckin’ around with kids, bitch,” I panted. And then to further degrade him, I shoved my cock back into his mouth and pissed deep down his throat, making him groan in disgust and retch. I reached out and drove my fist into his balls a few times, making him thrash about in pain again.

Pulling myself back out, I got up in his face again. “This is just the beginnin’, ya little faggot,” I said in a slow, psychotic voice. “All these other niggas in here are REALLY gonna love that little pussy of yours. Hope you don’t drop the soap… bitch.” And I gave him one last full-force punch to the head, which knocked him out cold.

A cool grin spread across my face as I put my clothes back on. For my first time fucking another dude, I actually kind of enjoyed it, not that I wanted to make that a regular thing, you know? But the pleasure from taking out my anger on the man who abused me as a child was more than I could have asked for. I lit up another smoke just as I heard the door unlock and open. I turned to see Warden Gallagher standing in the doorway, looking at me with an expression that was half-horrified and half-admiring.

“I underestimated you, kid,” he said, glancing over to where Logan lay; his injuries looked even nastier now that some time had gone by. “You really are one sick twisted motherfucker. I owe you big time.”

I grinned at him. “I had fun with this piece of shit, I won’t lie. You just wait till everyone else gets hold of him.”

“Ah well,” he said, raising his eyebrows, “I think everyone else won’t be able to top the hell you just put him through. I don’t know if you noticed the hidden camera in the cabinet door.”

I looked at him, surprised.

“There were quite a few inmates I invited to my office to watch you deal with this guy,” he continued. “I must say, they are rather impressed with you. Either that or they truly fear you now. You’ve just earned yourself a HUGE reputation.”

“Well damn,” I said conversationally. “I guess I finally got something to be proud of and shit.”

He laughed. “Come on, Chris. Go take yourself a shower and settle down.” He pulled a radio out of his pocket, calling one of the guards. “Pick up the pedophile in Cell Block C, cell #6; take him to the infirmary,” he said.

“10-4,” said a guard’s voice from the radio.

I followed Gallagher out of the cell block and back into the yard. Everyone outside fell silent as I emerged; some were looking at me in terror, others in awe.

“The fuck y’all lookin’ at?” I snapped at them. They quickly went back to their activities. As I passed, some of them still stared at me admiringly. I caught a few little comments, like one black dude saying “…craziest white boy I ever seen.” I grinned. I had indeed earned myself quite the prison rep…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night in my cell with Donnie, we were smoking cigs and talking about the day’s events.

“I woulda never thought ya had it in you, my nigga,” he said, looking at me with that same split expression that the warden wore after returning to get me. “You went straight up PSYCHO on that bitch ass pedo.”

“You know what they say, bro,” I said, taking a puff on my cig. “Revenge is a dish best served cold. He won’t be forgettin’ me anytime soon, not even after I get outta here.”

“Hey,” he said, punching me on the shoulder. “You my nigga. Trust and believe I’mma make DAMN sure he doesn’t forget you; I’ll make it my personal duty to make that motherfucker wish he was dead.”

I gave him a grin. “That’s what I like about you, man. You’re a straight up vigilante when it comes to these fuckin’ sex offenders, no fucks given.”

“Damn straight,” he said. “In my book, no sick act goes unpunished. Too bad you didn’t kill him and earn yourself a tattoo,” he added, pointing at the teardrop tattoo under his left eye. “Me and the guys are gonna make his life beyond miserable, don’t you even worry, bud. You might have to watch your step, though; all the other pedophiles in hear might be coming after you now you’ve done all that.

I laughed coolly. “Brother,” I said, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

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