Punch Drunk: Black Alpha Male Dominates Submissive White Couple

by Felicity Fleming

  “Yo, my story’s the same, man,” Mike Trojan nodded. “I was in county jail before I was seventeen. You know how hard it is to get a job after that? I started running with the gangs just so I could make enough to eat, yo.” Then the big man crossed his muscular arms and added: “But then I got a taste for it.”

  “Okay,” Ellie was scribbling notes. “What about you, Andre?”

  Andre looked up, his eyes big and dopey.

  “I-I dunno,” he shrugged. “I was just out with my brother when the cops questioned us. He told me to hold a bag for him and he ran off. Then the cops arrested me.” He shrugged again. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

  “You’re here because the pigs are racist, man!” Zion screamed.

  “Shit in this country is fucked up,” Mike nodded. “The only thing you did wrong was to be born black.” He turned to Ellie. “You’re trying to find out why we became criminals? ‘Cos if you’re black, that’s what you get forced into.”

  He shook his head. “Shit, you don’t need to have done anything wrong to get your ass thrown in jail. You know there are more black kids in jail than there are in college? Society makes this happen to us.”

  “When there aren't enough criminals, one makes them,” Raymond Slater quoted slowly. “One declares so many things to be a crime that it becomes impossible for men to live without breaking laws.”

  “You what?” Mike cocked his head on one side.

  “Ayn Rand,” Vladimir nodded. “Great Russian writer.”

  There was a moment’s awkward silence – which Ellie decided to end by asking Vladimir: “So when did you first end up in jail?”

  “First time was five years ago,” Vladimir hissed, turning to Ellie and looking at her hungrily. “But it was not jail that made me a bad person.” He licked his lips. “I just did what I did to support myself.”

  Ellie bit her lip. She’d read the case files. Vladimir was only arrested for drug smuggling charges, but his Russian mafia gang tattoos and the many scars on his body suggested a much more violent and bloody history than that.

  She shivered. He was a bad man.

  Vladimir smiled when he saw her shudder. He licked his lips again: “Your last name is Romanova? Good Russian name, that.” He rubbed his hands together. “I know how to treat little Russian girls like you.”

  Ellie gulped.

  Her face turning pale, she turned to the last of the group.

  “So, Raymond,” she asked. “When were you first in jail?”

  Rayond turned to her. His moustache bristled. The scariest thing about him, Ellie realized, was how normal he looked. The moustache. The receeding hairline. He could be somebody’s dad, or school teacher, or soccer coach.”

  “I did what I did for years before the police ever found me,” he shrugged. “It wasn’t until I got sloppy that they caught me.”

  He studied his fingernails – as if talking about filing his taxes, rather than the thousands of pounds of meth he’d produced.

  “Prison didn’t make me the way I am.”

  Ellie nodded.

  She scribbled some notes. She was behind schedule, but the conversations were incredibly fruitful. It looked like she’d be making good progress on her dissertation.

  Or, at least, it did until the explosion went off.

  Chapter Six

  The prison riot started at exactly 11am, with a devastating explosion that killed three people.

  Weeks later, as the authorities tried to piece together what had happened, they’d trace the explosion to a makeshift explosive device created by one of the inmates out of batteries, electrical wires and ground-up match heads.

  Whoever had built it had jammed the device amongst the gas lines in the prison kitchens, and the subsequent build-up of gas had meant the final ignition had gone off literally “like a bomb.” A common theory was that it had taken the bomb-maker with it – a convicted arsonist had been assigned to kitchen duty that morning.

  In any event, the explosion was enough to knock out power and alarms. In the following few minutes of confusion, inmates had overpowered the guards watching them and stolen guns and keys. By 11:15am, all of the cell-blocks were open and the enraged prisoners were taking over the compound like an army.

  If Kingston Correctional Facility really was “the closest thing to Hell in New York State,” the gates to Hades had just been opened.

  * * *

  Over in the chapel, of course, nobody realized what was going on at first.

  There was a muffled ‘crump’ and the walls shook. Dust and plaster came floating down from the ceiling overhead. Then the lights went out.

  “W-what was that?” Ellie cried.

  “I dunno,” there was a ‘ca-click’ as one of the guards pumped a round into the barrel of his shotgun. “All of you stay put while I check it out.”

  He turned to the other guard, who was similarly cocking his Remington. “You got this, Charlie?”

  ‘Ca-click.’

  “You bet your ass, Frank.”

  And with that, the first guard ducked out of the chapel and let the door swing shut behind him.

  That left the other guard, Charlie, alone with the six prisoners and the tiny little researcher.

  “Ma’am,” he ordered, swinging his shotgun in the direction of the six prisoners, “please get up and come over behind me.”

  Ellie clutched her notepad to her chest.

  “W-why?”

  “Ma’am, until the area is secure, I need you to stand behind me

  “B-but…”

  “No questions. C’mon.”

  Ellie nervously stood up and crossed the room to where the guard was standing.

  “Aww, shit, lady,” Malik cried. “Don’t leave us.”

  “Yeah, we ain’t gonna hurt you, girl!” Added Zion.

  “Shaddup!” Charlie snapped, covering them with his shotgun. “Keep quiet, and don’t make any sudden movements.”

  The six prisoners grumbled, but stayed where they were sitting.

  Ellie fell into step behind Charlie.

  “W-what’s going on, Officer?”

  “I dunno, ma’am,” Charlie was sweating. “Just stick close to me, please.”

  Still aiming the gun at the six prisoners, he side-stepped over to an intercom by the doorway and pressed the buzzer.

  “Yo! What’s going on?”

  There was a crackling of static, then a muffled cry of “Prison riot!” That was followed by the sound of a shotgun blast echoing down the speakers.

  Charlie went white.

  Moments later, a crackling voice reverberated over the PA system, echoing through the room.

  “This is Governor Voorhees,” a voice announced over the speakers. “Kingston Correctional Facility is currently in a state of emergency lockdown. All prisoners are to be secured. Repeat, all prisoners are to be secured. Civilians are to report to my office immediately.”

  “Shit,” Charlie muttered.

  He looked around the chapel frantically – between the six menacing prisoners and the tiny girl cowering behind him. Then he gulped.

  “O-okay,” Charlie snapped. “Here’s what’s going to happen.” He indicated the chains in the corner of the room – the ones the six prisoners had been brought in wearing. “You guys are going to chain yourselves back up again. Then we’re all going to the Governor’s office to drop Ms. Romanova off. Understood?”

  “Chain ourselves up again?” Mike Trojan sneered. “Like hell we are.”

  Charlie rolled his eyes.

  “Just fucking do it,” he ordered. “I don’t have time for this shit. You heard what it said on the PA. Secure the prisoners. Now go and fucking secure yourselves.”

  “This is some fucked up bullshit,” Mike grumbled, and the other prisoners nodded. Yet, reluctantly, Mike got up from his chair and started walking towards the chains.

  “Woah!” Charlie covered him with the gun. “Easy now! No sudden moves.”

  “Shit, dude, what
do you want?” Mike sneered. “You want me to stop moving, or you want me to get the chains?”

  “G-get the chains,” Charlie ordered. “Just do it slowly.”

  Mike sneered at him, but slowly crossed the room and started picking up the long lengths of chains. Then, rattling behind him, he dragged them to the semi-circle of prisoners.

  “P-put them on,” Charlie ordered. “Wrists and ankles.”

  The prisoners started doing as ordered, clamping their wrists and ankles into the chains one by one until…

  “Wait!” It was Vladimir.”This big buffoon has made a mistake.”

  He was standing in front of the towering Andre, and pointing at his wrist cuff. “That is an ankle cuff, you simpleton. And it’s my ankle cuff.”

  “Huh?” Andrew looked confused.

  Charlie rolled his eyes. The barrel of the shotgun trembling, he ordered: “Well, take it off the dumbass and put it on yourself.”

  Vladimir turned to him. In his thick Russian accent he complained: “I cannot take it off him without the key.”

  Charlie went pale.

  “Fuck,” he spat.

  For a moment he just stood there, frozen. Then, hands shaking, he reached to his belt for the keys.

  Holding the shotgun with one hand, he held out the keys with the other and shuffled nervously to the crowd of prisoners.

  “H-here,” he shook the keys at Vladimir. “Take them.”

  “You need to get closer.”

  Charlie shuffled one step closer.

  “Take them!”

  “Still too far.”

  And when Charlie shuffled a final step closer, it happened.

  Chapter Seven

  Andre, standing just to the left of the prison guard, snatched the shotgun right out of his hands, and then wrapped his massive hand around Charlie’s through.

  “Hyyeuuuck!” Charlie was lifted two inches off the floor, and grabbed for his throat as Andrew cut off the air from his lungs. “Hhhhyugk!”

  Ellie screamed as she watched.

  The six prisoners moved fast – like hyenas talking down a wounded gazelle. Within seconds, the shotgun was in Mike’s hands, and Malik and Zion were choke-holding Charlie and throwing him to the floor.

  Fists and feet pummeled the guard until he was barely conscious. Vladimir picked up the chains and started cuffing them onto Charlie’s prone body – until he was wrapped up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

  Ellie kept screaming, and that inspired Raymond Slater to cross the room and grab her. With one hand he gripped her arm. The other he clamped over her mouth.

  Suddenly she was helpless in his arms, kicking and screaming, but her voice muffled by his sweaty palm.

  The six prisoners surveyed their handiwork.

  Charlie was unconscious, or near to it. Face bloody, and chained from head to foot, he was thrown in an unceremonious heap in the corner.

  Mike rushed to the chapel door and peered outside for a second.

  “Fuuuuck,” he hissed, before slamming it shut and bolting it.

  “Yo, what’s going on, man?” Malik demanded. “What’s happening?”

  “It’s a riot,” Mike sneered. “They’re going fucking mental out there.”

  Ray’s hand slipped from Ellie’s mouth, and she screamed: “Why did you do that?”

  “Huh?” The six prisoners turned to her.

  “Why did you do that?” She pointed at Charlie. “He wasn’t going to hurt you!”

  Mike stomped across the room and grabbed Ellie’s jaw in his hard, calloused hand – pulling her face towards his.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? You see how that kid was trembling?” He held up the shotgun he’d acquired from the prison guard. “One of us moved to fast, or made too much noise, that kid was so wired he’d have blown our faces off.”

  Ray hissed hotly in Ellie’s ear, even as she struggled against his grip: “It’s okay. He’s okay. Just roughed up a bit.”

  “Yeah, well I can’t promise he’s gonna be okay for long,” Mike sneered. “If those rioters come in he and find him like that… Well, you know what they’ll do to him.”

  There was silence in the chapel – as if the rest of the prisoners clearly did know.

  “W-what?” Ellie asked. “What will they do to him?”

  Ray spoke in her ear: “This prison’s full of bad people, little girl. When they have a riot like this? They turn into fucking animals.”

  “The last time there was a riot,” Mike nodded, “they grabbed two of the guards and held them hostage. They cut one of their ears off,” he added, “and threatened to castrate the other guy.”

  “Yeah, and they would have,” Ray nodded, “if the SWAT teams hadn’t come in.”

  “They shot two of the prisoners dead,” Mike hissed. “It was the only way to get those animals off them.”

  Ellie went white as a sheet.

  “So listen to me, Princess,” Mike leered into Ellie’s face. “You want to stay safe? You stay with us. We’re gonna hold up here until the riot’s dealt with. We’ll give ourselves up nice and easy for the SWAT teams when they arrive.”

  “W-what about the guard?”

  “He’s safer with us than he is out there.”

  “Yeah,” Ray nodded. “Knocking him out like that was the safest thing for all of us, the twitchy little bastard. And Governor Voorhees is a piece of shit, but he’ll realize that. He’d rather have a guard with a few bruises to deal with than a dead prisoner – or worse.”

  Ellie gulped, feeling herself utterly helpless in Ray’s strong grip.

  “W-what about me?” She stammered.

  And that’s when she got scared.

  Mike leered at her, and licked his lips.

  “Well, you’re stuck in here with us for quite a while.”

  And then Ellie felt something repellent. The wet, rough sensation of Ray licking her cheek.

  “Yeah… And most of us haven’t seen a pretty little thing like you in years.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Oh God, oh God,” Ellie sobbed, as she hung helplessly in Ray’s grips. “Don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me.”

  And to her horror, she saw that the six prisoners were looking up at her, and started to creep towards her like predators circling their helpless prey.

  “Awww, we’re not gonna hurt you,” Ray leered, licking the tears from Ellie’s cheek. “We gonna make you feel good.”

  “We’re all gonna make you feel good,” Mike nodded, and he reached up and grabbed Ellie’s tiny breasts through the thin material of her blouse.

  “Unnnngh,” she turned her head away, so she didn’t have to look at him. “Please. Please, don’t do this.”

  Mike laughed.

  “Let the bitch go, Ray,” he told her, and the big man holding her did.

  Screaming, Ellie backed away from them and scurried into the corner, clutching her aching tits, where Mike had squeezed them.

  She looked at the approaching semi-circle of prisoners with terror – feeling like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

  “W-what are you going to do to me?” She stammered.

  “Aww, baby,” Malik grinned. “It’s not what we’re gonna do to you.”

  “Yeah,” added his brother. “It’s what you’re gonna do for us.”

  Ellie backed further into the corner.

  “W-what do you mean?” she screamed. “Leave me alone!”

  Mike stepped into the center of the fray.

  “Listen, bitch,” he told her, and his voice was stern enough to make Ellie freeze. “You picked the wrong day to visit prison.” He jerked his thumb towards the locked door. “There’s a prison riot going on out there – and if one those dirty animals got ahold of you, they’d tear that sexy little ass of yours to shreds.”

  “Yeah,” Malik nodded. “Man, last week they raped a new inmate – a skinny little guy – so badly he wound up in the infirmary.”

  “If we let them get ahold of you,
you’d end up raped, and murdered, and skinned or chopped up.”

  “And if you’re lucky, in that order,” Ray added.

  “So we’re gonna look out for you, Princess. But in return, you’ve gotta look out for us.”

  “W-what do you mean?” Ellie stammered.

  “We’re the good guys,” Ray purred menacingly. “The non-violent offenders, remember?”

  “Yeah, we’re gonna treat you real nice,” Mike continued. “But remember, we’re still guys who haven’t had a woman in five, six years or more.”

  Ellie gulped.

  “So we’re gonna have you,” Mike warned. “We’re all stuck here together for the next few hours, or days, and you’d better fucking believe we’re gonna make use of them.”

  “Just think of it as part of your dissertation,” Ray nodded. “This answers the question of whether or not incarceration causes non-violent offenders to commit crimes.”

  “’Cos it does,” Mike was approaching Ellie menacingly now. “Before I got locked up, you think I’d force myself on a woman? Hell no.” And then he was grabbing her – pinning her to the wall and forcing his mouth over hers.

  “But after five years in prison?” He kissed her forcefully – invading her mouth with his rough tongue. “The prison system made me do this…”

  Chapter Nine

  Suddenly they were all over her.

  Ellie couldn’t scream, because Mike’s tongue was in her mouth. Malik and Zion grabbed her wrists, and stretched her arms out until she was almost hanging off the floor. Andre grabbed the front of her blouse with one of his enormous hands and with a riiiiip tore it clean off of her.

  “Nooooo!” Ellie screamed and squirmed and struggled, as she was lifted clean into the air. “Help me! Help me!”

  And then they carried her over to the table, where her laptop and tape recorder was, and threw her down on it.

  “Oh, God, no,” Ellie wailed, as Mike tore off her bra, revealing her tiny breasts and little pink nipples. “Don’t do this! Please! Please!” And as she wailed, Malik and Zion grabbed the waistband of her skirt and pulled it down.