Randall Penitentiary - Shower Submission

“Well what the fuck are you waiting for? Get it over with so I can kill myself man!” Chico’s screamed words echoed in the otherwise empty room.

Good question. What was he waiting for? Here he was trying to reason with a guy who was about to know every last inch of him. What did he expect, that the guy was going to just agree? He could easily cleave his dick in there and there wasn’t a damn thing the spic could do about it. So what was stopping him?

Then something new happened that raised the tension a notch or ten. Troy’s cock, which had been squished between himself and Chico’s right ass cheek started to unfold and harden. They both felt it go from a rubbery, wet, almost unnoticed object, to a slowly hardening reminder of why they were both here.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Troy howled, and readjusted himself so that it was lying in the cleft of Chico’s ass.

Chico found himself unable to move. It wasn’t like he didn’t have control of his muscles, it was that Troy had tightened his grip to such an extent that he just had no leeway.

Now the focus went deeper, blowing right past sex and lost manhood, straight to domination and control. Not being able to move brought forth so much frustration that Chico did not know how express it. The more he flexed his muscles to try and move, the tighter the hold became.

It was like this for a full twenty minutes, until Chico was defeated, mentally and physically. He felt as if the rape had already happened. This was worse than handcuffs and leg restraints. He felt so powerless that there was nothing to do but cry.

Conversely, Troy felt like an all-powerful boa constrictor. He felt more alive than he had in his life. He had raped many people, almost all of them older than he, but the intensity of this situation was unlike anything that had happened yet.

By now, he normally would have been well on his way to coming deep inside his conquest and would be on his way. He found himself enjoying the connection to Chico so much that he didn’t quite know what to do himself.

Chico felt the tears rolling down his face, and Troy felt them on his arm. They were sharing a potent moment, as one man was being forced to admit defeat, and another was learning how to graciously prevail.

Troy drooled a large amount of saliva into his free hand. He normally didn’t bother too much with lubrication, but found himself comparing the present circumstances to that of war, when the winning side treated prisoners of war with a certain amount of mercy.

He smeared the spit on both the head and part of the shaft of his eight inch, thicker than normal, dick. “Don’t fight it, or you’ll end having to have it sewed.” He whispered

Chico couldn’t answer, as the tears continued to come. He had been expecting pain, but was truly unprepared for just how extreme it would be. “OHHHHH OOHHHHHHH NOOOOOOOOOO!” he wailed as he felt his ass burn as if hot oil had been placed just inside his anus.

Troy continued to feed his cock in until he was buried to the hilt. Then he stayed still. His arm was still firmly around Chico’s neck, but he had now flattened himself so that his body made total contact with the thinner Latino.

Troy had never felt so close to another person. It felt ancient and familiar. He felt as if he had taken Chico’s very soul. He knew that by not moving, he would give the other man’s body time to accept the intrusion, and that much of the pain would dissipate.

Again, he was not sure where this knowledge came from. He had hardly cared in the past how his victim felt. This was different because he could relate to this guy. He somehow just knew that they were more alike than different. “Its all the way in” he said, for no good reason.

“OH GODDDDD! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” It was a howl of such unrestrained anguish that it actually started Troy with its depth. He still did not feel any guilt at all. This concept was as old as time. Nature had integrated it into every last corner of the earth. The strong had to prevail.

Now he slowly withdrew himself even slower than he had entered. The sensation on his cock made this more gratifying than it ever had been before.

Chico had begun to adjust somewhat to the assault on his body, and was now dealing with the psychological aspects of what was happening as he felt the skinhead entering him again at a faster rate of speed.

Their bodies were still pressed tight and were still wet, but not so much from the residual shower water. Their sweat was acting like a conduit, which allowed the electricity to pass from one to the other. Together they were like a finely tuned musical instrument. Tight strings.

As Troy started to fuck in earnest, his breath grew heavy in Chico’s ears. While the sounds were more like guttural moans and exhalations, they moved through Chico’s existence as if they were spoken. He felt Troy humping him rhythmically as their bodies moved together toward the natural conclusion.

Troy’s iron hard cock plunged into Chico’s slick ass, and then back out again like a piston. It began to feel to both of them like a contact sport, as Troy’s muscles were moving to assist in the penetration, and Chico’s to accommodate it.

Chico no longer felt like a tough urban street kid, he now felt like a dog, or lion in the bush. He felt as if he was being mated, not raped. The close contact between them, as well as the athletic exertion caused him to develop the an erection, as if the human contact ignited something he could not will to go away.

Then he felt the steel-like object inside him begin to convulse as Troy had his orgasm. At that moment, Troy loosened his grip for the first time during the event, as he shot his seed into Chico’s bowels.

Chico couldn’t have fought back now if he tried.

Troy collapsed on top of him and for reasons that neither of them understood, resumed his death grip on Chico. They spent the next half-hour, with Troy still on top of Chico, holding him so tightly that the Latino boy had no hope of movement.

Chico sobbed for the loss of more than his manhood, he cried for a feeling of powerlessness that he now suspected had always been there, but had now been brought under a white, hot spotlight.