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Chapter 15
Roberta Rodriguez began her career in the security profession as a Saturday night guard in the local mall, walking the dark and empty passageways and climbing the sleeping elevators while the rest of the city enjoyed the height of the weekend. As a young woman without either children or a criminal record, it was easy to find such menial work that required only a gun license. Her mother wanted her to study at the community college, but Roberta developed a taste for the isolation and the freedom of working alone at night.
Roberta applied for the assignment at the Research Centre because the prison service offered the prospect of increased pay and a pension, though she was surprised to learn she would be guarding a solitary prisoner. The short woman with blue glasses in the white coat who took her on the tour of the medical rooms told her that the prisoner was a dangerous rapist, but Roberta, eager for experience in the prison service and a regular salary, accepted the offer.
On her third night at the Research Centre the bell rang. Roberta checked her revolver before walking to the cell door to see a naked figure standing before the hardened glass. She pressed the button on the wall and told him to put on his uniform. He leant forward and pressed his button to tell her that he had no uniform. She insisted, but he too insisted that there was no uniform in this prison. His blank look at the door indicated that he could not see her through the glass. She told him to stand against the far wall, warning him that she carried a gun.
She found him leaning against the far wall, his hands pressed against the rough brickwork. The first feature she noticed was his buttocks, his taut muscles almost glowing in the pale light from the open door.
“What do you want?” she asked, trying to sound assertive while admiring his body.
“I’m thirsty, Miss. I would like a glass of water.”
She noticed that the room was warmer than the rest of the building, but she was reluctant to take him from the cell just for a glass of water.
“I have a gun.”
“I know, Miss.”
“I’m not afraid to use it.”
“I’m not dangerous, Miss. I swear.”
“They all say that.” She did not want him to know that she had never served in a prison, conscious now of being alone with a dangerous rapist.
“Just one glass of water, Miss. Please.” He turned his head and she saw that he was a young man, a handsome young man. She ordered him to turn and place his hands behind his head, allowing her to enjoy a full view of his body. She stole a swift glance at his genitals and saw that they were impressive.
“Where’s your uniform?”
“There is no uniform. I’m naked all the time.”
She was pleased to hear that he would remain naked throughout her shift, but she was conscious of maintaining a stern look as she stood only yards away from the largest penis she had ever seen. She ordered him to turn once more and place his hands behind his back while she swiftly cuffed him and guided him to sit on the bed. The temptation to fondle his buttocks was almost overpowering, but she managed to control herself long enough to plant him on his bed.
“I’ll get you a glass of water, but if you’ve moved one inch by the time I return, you … you’ll regret it.”
She found a glass and filled it to the brim, returning to find him on the bed where she left him. She considered her choices for a moment before sitting on the bed beside him and holding the glass for him to drink. The glass was nearly empty when she deliberately spilt a few drops on his chest and reached into her pocket for a handkerchief to wipe away the water. His skin rippled beneath her touch, and she struggled to remember that she was sitting beside a brutal rapist.
“Thank you, Miss.” His voice was soft and low as he spoke, and she suddenly wondered if he was exploiting his appeal. She leapt to her feet and marched to the door.
“Miss. The handcuffs.” Roberta returned to the bed, lifted him to his feet and almost threw him against the wall. Once the cuffs were removed she ordered him to remain facing the wall while she almost ran from the room.
In the days that followed she remained by her desk in the main office, struggling with her craving to see the naked captive once more. However, about a week after their first meeting Roberta arrived for her evening shift to find that the prisoner was still in the Treatment Room. The nurse invited her to witness his ‘treatment’ regime. She pretended to be uncertain, but agreed to watch him through the glass mirror in the next room. He was strapped to a table, his erection glistening from the nurses’ saliva as they interspersed fellatio with electric bursts from the generator. His erection was massive, a thick pole rising from his groin, and she envied the nurses their unlimited access to his bound and rigid penis. However, she was careful to appear disinterested as she watched him writhe on the table.
“Why are they giving him electric shocks?” she asked the nurse who was also enjoying the spectacle.
“Tremor therapy,” she explained. “It conditions him to know his place, which is to be naked and serving as a sex slave.”
“Why are they sucking him? Is that part of the therapy?”
The nurse only smiled as she left to join her colleague in abusing their prisoner until the session was ended by Moriarty and he was taken to his cell, his legs trembling beneath him as the nurses slapped his buttocks and taunting him for his helpless situation. Roberta wondered if the nurses’ treatment of the prisoner entitled her to enjoy his sensational body, but she could not overcome the feeling that, even as a rapist, he did not deserve such cruelty.
Roberta confined herself to watching him through the cameras from her desk until one evening she decided to induce another thirst by raising the temperature in the cell. She watched him twist on the bed until he finally came to the door and she heard the sound of the buzzer over the main door. She kept him waiting for a few minutes until he rang a second time before finally paying him a visit.
He was standing against the far wall, his fine buttocks facing her, as he asked for water, his hands behind his back. She felt a tremor of sexual excitement as she placed the cuffs around his wrists and set him on the bed. She returned with a glass of water that he eagerly drained. He whispered his thanks and offered her an endearing smile. She decided to be kind, even if he was a vicious rapist. She believed in redemption and now he was paying for his crimes, so she did not need to heighten his torment. There were more than enough women in the Research Centre eager to perform that role.
She left him and returned with another glass of water, having lowered the air conditioning. He sipped this glass and smiled once more, and she could not avoid looking into his deep blue eyes that almost glowed in the pale light from the corridor. Once the second glass was drained he rose to his feet and returned to face the wall, ready for her to remove the cuffs and leave. She hesitated for a moment, unsure whether she wanted to leave or finally enjoy his shackled body. Eventually she came to him to remove his chains. He set his hands against the wall and she retreated to the door, torn between her lust and her conscience. He wished her a good night, but she did not answer as she shut the door.
A few days after her second visit to the prisoner’s cell, Moriarty called Roberta to her office to offer her work as a guard for an outside visit. There was a promise of regular daily work, and mention of a permanent post. Roberta agreed, and only later realised that it was the thought of seeing him rather than the additional money that had enticed her to accept Moriarty’s offer.
The visit to the villa was to end Moriarty’s deception, and to mark the beginning of Roberta’s passion for her prisoner. The sensation had been no more than a shameful lust for a perverted rapist, but once Moriarty’s deceit was unearthed by her abject silence as she scampered from the villa her feelings became passionate infatuation. Roberta was shamed by her dismissal of his plea that he was not dangerous, and it was two nights before she found the courage to visit him in his cell.
She turned on the light and opened the door to find him standing against the far wall, his hands against the bricks.
“There’s no need for that,” she told him. He slowly turned and she beckoned to him to return to his bed. She thought for a moment how she could justify her actions, but ultimately she knew that she had to admit her error.
“Dean, I owe you an apology.” He smiled as she had called him by his name for the first time.
“I shot a man.”
“You’re not a rapist. Moriarty was telling lies.”
“It was Tiffany, Miss. She was the one who lied to Dr Moriarty.”
Roberta knew that Moriarty was responsible and had only deflected the blame to escape being exposed as the author of her prisoner’s woes. She was tempted to reveal to him all the sins she had perpetrated against him, but she feared for her job. She knew she could find other work, but now she wanted to see him every night.
He forgave her lack of trust and she sat on the chair, talking, until after two in the morning before she noticed that he was tired.
“You’ll need your strength for tomorrow.”
“Will you come again tomorrow night? I like it when you come. It’s pretty lonely in here.”
“It’s pretty lonely out there,” she sighed.
Three weeks after her apology, Roberta witnessed the scale of Moriarty’s contempt for her prisoner. They visited a university campus where he languished in the van for nearly two hours before a call from Moriarty called him forth into a small hall to find a gathering of men and women in suits and white coats. As they approached she noticed the women almost licking their lips at the sight of Dean in his costume. Roberta left him before their disdainful gaze and retreated into the shadows by the door.
Roberta was called back to remove the cuffs after they discussed and poked him as if he was no more than a caged animal, and once the chains were removed the abuse began, Moriarty leading the torment of her captive. Dean was forced to masturbate for his viewers, drawing scornful comments from the jealous men. Moriarty insisted upon Dean playing the role of arrogant porn star and slut, boasting about his sexual prowess and acting without shame before his audience, who were shocked and excited in equal measure by his lewd performance. Dean’s spectacular climax brought the first phase of the show to a close as he panted before his audience, still holding his drained shaft.
After this shameful ritual, a degrading routine perfected over months in the Performance Suite at the Research Centre, Dean was strapped to a makeshift table to be mercilessly tortured by Moriarty with electric jolts. The gag could not hide all of Dean’s screams as he writhed on the table for the entertainment of Moriarty’s educated friends. Roberta loathed Moriarty for her misuse of science, pretending that her actions were motivated by the pursuit of scientific knowledge rather than just depraved lust. Moriarty and Cindi orchestrated the abuse, encouraging their audience to torment their naked captive. Roberta was appalled, especially when Dean was required to violate himself with a metal tube while his audience filmed his disgrace. The session ended with another round of vicious abuse on the table before Dean was obliged to present his ravaged anus to his audience and Cindi caned him from the room to the mocking applause of his audience.
In the weeks following the university visit Dean endured a succession of painful injections that expanded his testicles. Roberta learnt that Dean was to be taken to San Francisco to perform before the Board of the Genesis Corporation and Moriarty was determined that he should produce a spectacular ejaculation to gratify Moriarty’s obsession with the ‘money shot’ and Dean’s porn star career. Roberta also witnessed the cruel training for his auto fellatio, watching him choke on his own foreskin as the nurses laced his back with cane marks.
Roberta told Dean of his forthcoming visit to the Board in San Francisco, and he was excited by the prospect.
“I’ll be performing for real experts.”
“You treat this like a job.”
“It is a job. I intend to make a career out of being an adult entertainment artist. I’ve finally discovered something I can do well.”
“They’ll humiliate you, as usual. You’ll be bound and naked and they will use you as a sex toy. They will make you suck your own cock. Is that a career?”
“It’s just acting. I’m an erotic actor.”
“They’re not acting when they send electric bolts up your arsehole or beat your backside raw. I think you like being abused.”
“No, but it is part of my job, for now. My work involves me performing, and all the pain is just a necessary evil. Besides, I know that nothing serious will happen if you’re with me.”
“I’m not worried about the trips. I don’t trust Moriarty. I’m worried about what happens here. I don’t think you realise that she’s a heartless bitch.”
“I know. I’m not stupid.” Roberta looked surprised by his admission. “I need to get out, and this is my best chance. Besides, she’s training me to be the greatest porn star of all time. I’ll make a lot of money.”
“She’ll make a lot of money. You’ll be used and then tossed away. She’s an absolute bitch.”
He shook his head.
“I’ve a little surprise in store for Professor Moriarty.”
“What? What are you going to do?”
“That’s my secret, for now. Why are you telling me?”
“I want you to be safe.” He moved closer and she blushed, offering him an engaging smile. He leant down for her to plant a kiss on his lips. Seconds later they were joined in a passionate embrace and a minute later she was lying on his bunk as she slipped out of her trousers and reached for the strap of her bra.
In the weeks that followed their first night together Roberta spent every night in his cell, only leaving after midnight to allow him to rest in readiness for another day of systematic abuse and ritual humiliation. She brought him books to read and he would listen to music on her player. She was surprised by his tastes.
“I would never have you marked as a Jazz fan.”
“That’s not something I want everyone to know,” he admitted. “My grandfather was a pianist in the clubs, and he met some of the greats.”
Dean also asked for books, in both English and Spanish. Roberta knew few of the writers, mostly European authors and classics from the nineteenth century. He would read sprawled on his bed while she usually sat by the door with her magazines, listening for anyone who might catch them together in the cell, a set of cuffs lying on the table in case of surprise guests.
Roberta’s precautions proved to be a wise choice, because one Friday night she heard the sound of glass doors opening and female voices. She ran to kill the music and he rose to meet her at the table, turning swiftly to present his hands to be shackled. By the time Tiffany appeared at the cell door, dressed in a bright green outfit with three giggling and inebriated friends, Roberta was sitting on the bunk while Dean squatted before her as she massaged his penis.
She gave the four visitors a casual glance, as if she frequently entertained herself at her prisoner’s expense.
“He’s all floppy. He must have been busy today.”
“My girls came to have a look, and a feel, of our research subject. Girls, this is Dean. He’s our stud.”
The girls filed into the room, captivated by his growing erection.
“I’ve a solution to his … flagging interest. Roberta, would you do me a massive favour?”
“Sure. What can I do for you?” she asked, already knowing Tiffany’s request.
“Could we borrow Dean for a couple of hours? We’ll bring him back before dawn, I swear.”
One of the girls sank to her knees in mock prayer, and her companions also dropped to the floor, though one of the visitors could not stop at her knees and fell to the ground with a stifled laugh. Roberta consented, because “I can taste his meat any time I choose.” Tiffany blew Roberta a kiss as they led him away in chains.
They agreed not to have sex again until he was a free man, and he promised that he would be free within months. The pledge lasted just three days until she came to his cell wearing her visit uniform and they enjoyed rampant sex on the bunk, the floor and the shower room. She was spending most of the night in the cell, and within a month she was bringing her knitting to sit by the door while he slept.
The night he returned from the Board meeting in San Francisco he asked a favour of his night guard and lover. It was a risky demand.
“I want you to smuggle someone in here.” She was reluctant, but he promised it would be a short visit. Once he told her it was a prison guard named Watkins she was appeased, though intrigued. She asked the reason for the visit, and was told that it was to help with his rehabilitation.
“Then why doesn’t he come during the day?”
“I don’t want Moriarty to know. It is important. Very important.”
She agreed, and three days later Watkins appeared at the main door of the building just after midnight. He came in his prison uniform and Roberta told the main night guard that he was an old friend. Watkins spent an hour with Dean, who was wearing a tracksuit borrowed from Roberta’s brother for the occasion. Dean rang the bell to invite Roberta to join them, and she was formally introduced to his guest.
“I can see, Dean. She seems like a nice girl. Why is she hanging around with a low life like you?”
“She’s only after my money.” They both laughed. “Roberta, I have one more favour. I want you to visit this lawyer. You need to pay him three hundred dollars. Harry has the money. Here are his instructions.” Watkins handed over an envelope along with thirty ten dollar bills. “Harry cannot be involved, because he’s employed by the prison service. Give these papers to the lawyer. He’ll know what to do.”
Roberta read the name on the envelope.
“John Lomax.”
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