Is self-destruction liberation?
Ch: Welcome to the Conjugal
I’m subjected to more waiting, another search and ID check. It gives me time to process what’s happening: my dad has scheduled us a conjugal visit and listed me as his wife.
“Can you tell me a real story without the guards around, something less Disney? Any shankings or escape attempts?”
“Well, there was an attempted rape.” He senses my excitement and continues.
“We got a new guy on our cellblock, some scrawny smart ass. He took a crap while his cellmate was eating, narked on a guy for having contraband, other intolerable bullshit. I arranged to work the laundry together the same day. Me and this guy Dale got him into a blind spot. I forced him onto his knees and Dale stood behind him and held him still. I pulled my dick out and asked, ‘Would you rather take it or suck it?’”
He sticks his index finger into my open O-shaped mouth. On instinct my lips close around it and he explores my tongue and teeth.
“The guy’s crying and begging ‘Please, help!’ but you can’t hear shit over the industrial washers and dryers until you’re a few feet away. I said, ‘Shut the fuck up and choose.’ He acts like he doesn’t hear me, keeps blubbering. So I ask Dale, ‘Hey, you have any lube?’ He fishes around his pockets and pulls out something small. He says, ‘All’s I got is this packet of mayonnaise.’ He hands it over and I rip it open. Dale pulls down the guy’s pants. He tries to talk but he’s sobbing too hard to breathe, choking on his snot and spit. He finally gets out, ‘I—I—I’d rather suck iiiit.’ I called him a cocksucker and threw him on the floor like a cum rag. He’s been quiet ever since. Is that what you wanted to hear?” He pulls his finger out of my mouth.