Amazing Grace

"But Clarisse is the one who identified you, why are you coming after me for just doing my job?" I asked.

"Oh I will get to her, too," he said, cockily. "She's moved out of state, but her time will come. But you," he pointed at me, sticking the 9 mm pistol right up to my chest, "you made it your own personal mission to put me away and keep me there. I could feel your hatred toward me during the trial and at every parole hearing since. I would have been out a long time ago if it wasn't for you. Now take your fucking clothes off, because I won't be nice about it if I do it!"

"I- I- I really have to pee," I told him, which wasn't really a lie. I was damn near hyperventilating and I needed to calm down and just think for a second. "Can I just... can I just go do that first before you..."

"Before I rape you?" he asked flippantly, then smiled. "Sure."

I thought I'd have a minute to collect my thoughts and strategize for how to get out of the house and call the police, but my cell phone was in my purse, and of course he followed me into my master bath. Hearing his footsteps behind me, I cursed under my breath the whole way. When I reached the toilet, I hesitated before pulling down my panties and having a seat. I just couldn't do this in front of him.

"Can't I just have any privacy?" I asked, annoyed.

"You think I'm stupid?!" he laughed. "Not a chance. I'm not letting you out of my sight for one second so if you have to take a piss, you best go ahead. I'm 'a stand right here and watch."

I sighed in exasperation and contemplated my options. My bladder really was full, so there was no use in delaying the inevitable, I reasoned. I reached under my skirt and pulled my panties down to mid-thigh, just above the hem of my skirt and high enough to keep hidden. I tried my best to do so without showing any skin above my knees. Once I had managed that maneuver, I pulled up the back of my skirt and took a seat. Of course nothing came out. I was just too nervous for my bladder to release with an audience.

"I thought you said you had to pee," he said accusingly, as if I was plotting something.

"I do, but it's hard for me to go with you standing there watching me."

"If you don't hurry up and piss we're going back to the bedroom. I got a lot planned for you tonight," he informed me. I shivered.

"It's coming just... just give me a second, ok?" Augustine said nothing but eyed me suspiciously. I knew he was starting to get impatient. To my initial relief he decided not to push the issue and let my bladder operate on its own time. Instead he began looking around, eyeing all my makeup supplies, my big whirlpool tub, and all the candles and sea shells I had positioned around the rim.

"Humph," he grunted, picking up one of my candles and testing its scent. "Must be nice." Then something else caught his eye, and he began to walk toward my walk-in closet, which had doors leading into it from both the bedroom and the bath. Right in the open doorway was my hamper. Augustine made a beeline for it and took a peek inside.

"What do we have here?" he mumbled as he rummaged through my dirty clothes. I gasped when I saw him extract a small piece of fabric and press it to his face. He inhaled deeply from what turned out to be a teal thong that I had worn the previous day. He turned the garment about until he found its gusset, then pressed it up to his nose and inhaled deeply again. "Ahh, fuck yeah," he said to himself, barely audible to me. It made me wonder just how long he had been craving that smell. He then took another long whiff. "Mmmm. I'm gonna really enjoy this shit."

"Ewww, gross!" I spat at him, mortified at the thought of what they must smell like, taken off at the end of a long workday. But Augustine wasn't put off in the least which I found... strange.

"Whatever," he shrugged. "I'll take a fresh pair then. Those you have on will do nicely." I just stared at him. "If you want to put up a struggle, I can come over there take 'em from you," he grinned. God, I hated that smirk on his face, but I slowly turned away from him so he wouldn't be able to see between my legs, then reached under my skirt to pull down my panties. They were peach and black with a lacy transparent front, one of Garry's favorites. It felt like a betrayal handing them over to Augustine.

"That's more like it." He slipped the teal thong into his pocket and reached for the one in my hand. He found the gusset and pressed it to his face, right under his nose. His chest swelled as he filled his lungs with my scent. "Damn, you got a sweet pussy," he groaned, "and so warm." Subtle movement just on the edge of my peripheral vision caught my eye. I looked down to catch a menacing tent growing in his jeans while he continued smelling my panties. A fresh wave of panic hit me and I thought about running, but his eyes were on me like a hawk. A hungry one at that. I really had to go but my pee just wouldn't come with the way he was watching me. There was a mixture of seething anger and raw lust, all mixed together in his features. He continued to take deep inhalations of my scent as the tent in his pants continued to grow.

I'd never seen a person have such a strong reaction to smelling my pussy before. I felt grossed out yet weirdly proud that my scent could produce such a response, more than ten hours since my last shower. Then I began to contemplate what it must feel like to take a man in his sexual prime, his sex hormones coursing through his body, and lock him away from the one thing he is craving more than anything else in the world. He was no longer the lanky 19 year-old I put away 12 years prior. In prison, all that unused testosterone got transferred into muscle from pounding weights. The man who now stood before me had a big barrel chest with muscles bulging from his arms and thighs. I shuddered in fright at the thought of all the pent up sexual energy roiling just under his skin that he was going to release upon me.

"Please don't do this to me." I begged, tears starting to form in my eyes. He let out a sinister chuckle before his face went dead serious.

"Relax. I'm only going to do to you all the same things that were done to me," came his reply. "I'm gonna show you what happens to teenagers who get sent to maximum security prisons with grown-ass men."

"I'm so sorry," I cried. "I thought I was doing the right thing."

"And your being sorry is somehow supposed to give me back the last twelve years of my life? Is it supposed to give me back the respect that I lost from my family? Is it supposed to give me back my college scholarships? Is it supposed to give me back my grandmother's funeral that I missed? Is it supposed to give me back my dignity? Is it supposed to give me back my future?"

My head sank. "No... I can't give you back any of those things," I cried softly.

"Damn right you can't!" he said angrily, grabbing my jaw and forcing my head up to look into his eyes. "There's only one thing you can give me -- three things really," he snickered, "and I plan to take each one of them."

I couldn't do it. I couldn't ask what he was insinuating. In my heart I knew what was in store for me, but my mind... I just couldn't hear confirmed all the different ways that he planned on violating me. I was scared to death, and that's when my pee finally came, splashing into the bowl while I cried.

"Stop crying like a scared little bitch. You were acting all hard and tough at my parole hearings, where's all that toughness now?" he threatened.

"What do you expect?!" I yelled. "You're in my house with a gun pointed at me! It's not too late to stop though. If you leave now and don't hurt me, I promise not to report you. You've put the fear of god in me and taught me a lesson, isn't that enough?" I begged. He laughed.

"Not by far. We're just getting started. And besides, knowing who you are, you're probably gonna enjoy what I'm gonna do to you, despite my best efforts to make it as painful as possible."

My anger took over. "For someone supposedly innocent, you're sure sounding like a rapist."

"You say that only because you don't know who you really are. I'm sure your mother never told you."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked, wondering if he had gone crazy, too. He crooked his head to the side then stared at me incredulously for a moment before he spoke again.

"You stupid, ignorant bitch, you don't even know who I am, do you?"

I scoffed at him. "Of course I know who you are. You were my first big case. I've worked so hard over the years to keep you locked up because I know exactly who you are, or at least I thought I did..." I trailed off.

"No, you really have no idea, do you?" he asked rhetorically. "But that's ok, I didn't really know who I was either before I went to prison."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked again, still confused. "So you're not really a rapist. Why become one now that you've been exonerated and go back to prison?" I hoped he could see reason. His look was unchanged. "If you let me live, I'll report you. If you murder me, they'll know who did it. Plus, my husband's a parole officer -- he'll hunt you down and kill you. Going back to prison will be the least of your worries." Maybe intimidation could still work. He ignored my threats and just kept on speaking.

"After the trial I was transferred to the Wynne unit in Huntsville," he told me. Huntsville is about 150 miles south of Dallas on I-45, where many of the perps I prosecute end up. It's an older prison, built in the 1880s not long after the Civil War. "Even though there're some newer wings of the prison, including this gorgeous chapel that everybody there is so fucking proud of, the older housing units feel haunted with all the souls of prisoners past," he conveyed, eyes staring off into the distance.

"When I got there, I was assigned work detail in their agricultural operations, harvesting field crops. That's a nice way of saying I was assigned to pick cotton... for $0.15 an hour. Even though there were other work details that I was better suited for, I later found out that all new inmates get assigned to agg, but out of all the different jobs in agg, only the Black ones are made to pick cotton." Hatred simmered in his eyes. I had memory flashbacks.

You won't see them if you stay on I-45 as you past through Huntsville on the way to Houston from Dallas. But Texas has all these funny-named "farm-to-market" roads, and the Wynne unit sits along one of these, FM 2821. Driving down these country roads in Huntsville in the late summers with my family as a little girl, we'd see the dark men in green jumpsuits -- sometimes orange -- out there picking cotton. I didn't know they were prisoners back then, I just thought it was their work uniform. None of us paid them much mind, except for our mom. She watched them intently but with a saddened look of dread mixed with some other emotion that I couldn't quite comprehend. It was as if she was desperately searching for someone, but afraid she might find him.

"I told the guards to go fuck themselves, that I wasn't picking no god-damned cotton, but 60 days in seg will change your attitude real quick." Administrative segregation, or solitary confinement as it's known to the outside world. It's supposed to be used only for inmates who pose a risk to themselves or others, but we all knew that it was routinely used for disciplinary purposes even though it is a violation of prisoner's rights and international organizations consider it a form of torture. It never bothered me before -- I sent bad people away expecting them to be punished -- but hearing how it was used to make Augustine pick cotton -- basically returning him to the antebellum south -- turned my stomach. I could only imagine his rage.

"I'm sorry," is all I could manage to say. I reached for a wad of tissue to wipe myself but stayed seated after. I was too afraid to stand, too afraid of what would come next.

"Yeah, I bet you are, but you don't even know the half of it yet. Now move," he ordered. "I need to take a piss, too."

I stood and moved to the side. I thought for a brief second that with his back turned to me while he peed I would be able to make a move of some sort. Augustine could see the wheels turning in my head, though, and wasn't about to slip up that easily.

"Kneel," he commanded, nodding to a spot on the cold tile floor right next to the toilet. I hesitated just long enough for him to give me a threatening look before I complied. "You think I'm that stupid?" he chastised me. I shook my head. Then, with his gun pointed right at my temple, he made me take his cock out of his pants. Even though he had lost some of his erection talking about prison, his intimidating flesh was still warm and thick in my hands, mere inches in front of my face. His manly smell assaulted my senses, filling my nostrils. I could tell he had showered recently, but it wasn't enough to mask the raw scent of lust coming off of him. I felt my nostrils flare involuntarily.

"Yeah... smell it," he said, "and rub it across your face." I looked up to see if he was serious. One look in his eyes told me he was deadly so. In humiliation I bent to my task. Augustine's reaction was immediate and I felt him begin to grow in my hands. The intense heat seared the sides of my face as his cock took on added heft. As he continued to swell so did my nervousness. It was going to be a struggle to make that thing fit in my body. With a sudden yank of my hair, Augustine pushed my face down into the wiry hairs at the base of his cock, bringing my focus back to the present task. Struggling for air, I couldn't help but breathe in deep. His primal musk flooded my senses and set off all kinds of chemical reactions in my brain, throwing my neuro circuitry into conflict.

"Get used to that smell," he warned me. "I want your nose there on every down stroke while my dick's in your mouth, or else. You understand?" I nodded in fear. "Good girl," he said, releasing my hair. "Now hold it steady while I pee, I wouldn't want to make a mess for you to have to clean up."

Miraculously, I somehow managed to aim him perfectly without making a mess of my bathroom floor. After he was done peeing, I reached for a wad of tissue to wipe off the tip. "Don't you dare," he admonished me. "Clean it with your mouth."

"That's fucking sick!" I protested. "I'm not do—" my speech was cut off by the ringing in my ears from the heavy slap that came down across my face.

"Don't fucking test me, Grace," he warned, his hand poised to strike again. "I am not to be fooled with or disobeyed. When I tell you to do something, it's not a request. Now clean it!"

With tears in my eyes I took his dripping tip into my mouth and swirled my tongue around the spongy head. Total humiliation washed over me as I felt him swell to full mast, stretching my lips to accommodate his girth. His raw male flavor took over my taste buds as I laved the pissy tip with my tongue, afraid to show my revulsion. Augustine moaned and let his head roll back while I attended to him, and the silky feel of his pre cum gradually replaced the salty taste of urine.

I breathed a sigh of relief as he relaxed his hand and let the gun fall to his side, no longer pointed at my temple. I realized in that moment that pleasuring him was how I was going to get him to let down his guard. If I had any chance of getting out of this alive, and without any more blows to my head, it was going to be from getting him to relax enough and put down that gun. I redoubled my efforts and felt him continue to swell in the warm and wet confines of my mouth. Fresh panic set in from seeing his full size, though. I knew I was in for a rough ride.

"Mmmm, that's more like it," he groaned. "Whenever my dick needs cleaning, you do it with your lips and tongue, you understand?" I nodded with his fat head stretching my lips while I used my tongue to tease the underside. That brought a fresh shudder to his frame.

"Enough foreplay, I think it's time for you to get to work for real," he said, pulling out of my mouth. "Come on." I stood and followed him into the bedroom. "Now strip, and let me see what you've got hiding under there."

It was the moment of truth and I knew there was no escape. I started off slow, but Augustine looked at me like I was doing some kind of strip tease. Finally I just said 'fuck it' and hurried removing the rest of my clothes.

"Nuh uh, don't cover up," he told me when my arms reached to hide my breasts and the junction between my legs. I took a deep breath and let my arms relax. Augustine smiled and licked his lips as he devoured me with his eyes. He looked like he wanted to eat me alive. I could feel the adrenaline pumping through him as he began to remove his clothes. When he stood fully naked in front of me my breath caught in my throat. He was like a textbook example of perfect manhood: muscled, toned, very well endowed, and defying gravity with excitement. His tumescent flesh bobbed up and down as he stood there, violating me with his stare. Fixed frozen I stood like a doe caught in headlights.

My heart was about to beat right out of my chest when Augustine closed the distance between us. He took my hand and dragged me over toward my California King bed where he took a seat on the corner. At eye level with my breasts, I thought for a second that he was going to pop one of them into his mouth as I stood between his legs. But I guess he had more control than that. Damn.

"Ok, Grace. I'm gonna sit here and you're going to give me the best blowjob of your life. You have 15 minutes to work the cum out of my balls and swallow every drop."

"Why 15 minutes?" I asked, still trying to stall.

"Why 15 minutes?" he laughed. "In prison there were these dark areas where the cameras couldn't see. Those are the places where they rape the newbies. But the guards patrol those areas every twenty minutes or so. When some bigger guys want to use you, you have to get them off quick before the next patrol comes around, or they'll hurt you pretty bad." My face turned to absolute horror as he spoke. I pictured him as that lanky, nerdy 19 year-old having to suffer through that -- knowing he was innocent -- and I felt sick with guilt.

"I'm so sorry, Augustine," I cried.

"Quit saying you're sorry and get down on your knees," he commanded. I slowly sank onto the carpeted floor. "Now if you bite me, I swear I will knock your teeth out then make you start all over. Or, if I sense the slightest hint that you are not absolutely loving your job, I'll still knock your teeth out. So put it your mouth and get to work."

I took a deep breath and tried to collect myself. I was going to have to do it as there was just no way out of it in that moment. Still, I reasoned, my best chance to save myself from further violation was to get him to let down his guard. The only way to do that was to give him what he wanted. Hardening my resolve, I closed my eyes and tried to picture Garry sitting in front of me. It had been many years since I had bestowed such a gift upon any man other than my husband, and I prayed silently for forgiveness. Then I opened my mouth and slipped him inside.

Normally, orally pleasing Garry is something that I enjoy. I like the power that I feel when a man becomes putty in my hands. I love to feel his flesh harden in my mouth. I love to tease him and drive him crazy until he is so aroused that he can no longer wait to fuck me -- hard. But it was hard to maintain that imaginative space with Augustine. His meaty cock was much wider than anything I was accustomed to, stretching my mouth to the limit. It was a struggle to keep my teeth out of the way. I felt overwhelmed at the challenge.

"You think I'm playing with you?!" he asked, pulling out of my mouth and slapping me across the face with his rigid shaft. "Maybe you don't like your teeth. I'm happy to remove some of them for you if that'll make this easier..."