Prison Bitch Slut

Weak, vulnerable, effeminate new fish desperately needs a friend

I'm not made for this place. The other inmates catcall and leer at me everywhere I go. Some even take out their big, hard cocks, stroking and waving them at me, telling me how they're going to make me suck them off and swallow all their cum. But when I try to tell them that I'm straight, that I have a fiance矷aiting for me on the outside, and I don't do those sorts of things, they just laugh at me and tell me to shut up, and that they're going to fuck my “sissy faggot ass” anyway. The guards are almost worse. Whenever they hear other inmates threaten me like that, they just laugh. The one who did the cavity search on me in processing jokes when we're alone that even he might take a crack at resizing my “tight, tiny, virgin hole” before I get pimped out to the whole cellblock. He pats my behind when he says it, too. The guards also think it's terribly funny to give me only pink women's panties to wear under my coveralls. When I protested this, holding back tears, the guards laughed even harder and told me my little pee-pee only fills out a pair of panties, so that's all I need. I could put them on or go without, they said, it made no difference to them since I looked like a sissy slut either way. (Of course, I put them on. What else could I do?) The cell door slams shut. We're alone now, just the two of us. You stare me down silently. You don't have to say a word. In that instant, I understand my situation perfectly. This is your cell. You're in charge here. What you say goes. I feel your eyes still on me as you begin slowly, menacingly stroking your massive, thick cock through your uniform, brandishing it at me like a weapon. My own penis twitches in my tight, pink panties, threatening to betray me. It must be anxiety, or fear. Call me, and tell me the cruel plans you have in store for me after lights out.