The Jailhouse Blues Ch. 02

Prison officer Rita told me in warning, "Remember, prisoner: no second chances." She then turned her back on me, and stepped back until she was standing up flush against the cell's bars, right in front of me. Exactly as prison officer Bella Donna had done before her.

In my assuming-the-position position, my face was on a level with prison officer Rita's calves, which were almost milk-white. Her colouring as a redhead, I supposed.

I preferred women to have a bit of skin-tone colour on them. Redheads were almost always pale-skinned; sometimes very much so, due to their sun-averse skin type.

But then, I thought, redheads were different. There was just... something, about redheads. I don't know... a certain something, that set redheads apart from all other women.

The saying went, that 'Blondes have more fun'. And that might be true. But if it was, I thought, I bet redheads have more sex.

God, I thought. This redhead had really nice, shapely legs. Really great legs, to be fair to her. To a leg-man like me, prison officer Rita's legs were knockout. Dynamite.

Right up close, like this, I was in a great position to appreciate them, and... And now, when I looked up, I could see right up prison officer Rita's uniform pale-blue short skirt... My god! She wasn't wearing her panties!

Oh, I didn't need this!

But then prison officer Rita, upon picking up on the vibe of my sudden excitement, promptly started getting down to the business at hand... And then I was suddenly staring, right up close, at something I wasn't nearly so appreciative of.

Prison officer Rita slipped her right foot from its prison officer issue pale-blue, thin-rubber soled flip flop, and raised her foot behind her until the sole of her foot was level with my horrified and dismayed face. She then passed her foot between the bars, and let it hover there so that I could have an even closer look at what I had coming to me.

What struck me, was how incredibly white her arch looked. In comparison with the impact points of her sole: her heel, the ball of her foot, and her toe pads, her arch was almost milk-white. And though all of these impact points were all undeniably very dirty, they were made to look all the more so because of the stark, creamy paleness of her arch's almost unbesmirched skin.

Some of the more cruel Greystone Prison officers preferred to 'save up' for later, their bottom-of-the-foot filth, letting it accumulate until their work shift was nearly over. And very obviously prison officer 'Hellcat' Rita was one of them.

The soles of her feet had become extremely grubby and grimy; the seemingly multilayered dirt and grime all sweat-smudged, from a long day of patrolling the Levels in her prison officer issue thin-rubber soled flip flops. The evidence in front of my eyes was quite conclusive: prison officer 'Hellcat' Rita was definitely one of the fifty-shades-of-grey prison officers.

Looking down on me over her right shoulder, prison officer Rita said, "Now, prisoner... open that foot-cleaning mouth of yours - and open it wide. As you can clearly see, my feet are very dirty, after working my twelve-hour shift. Which is of course where you come in. First, I'll let you give my toes a nice, dirt-and-grime loosening soak. And then you can start agitating the all-day build-up of ingrained dirt with your tongue. There's no telling what you're going to find, all squished up between my sweaty toes, but you'll swallow everything. Got that? Everything. And you'll keep on, licking and agitating and rubbing and scrubbing the soles of my dirty feet with your tongue, and swallowing everything, until you are ready for me to inspect the results of your foot-cleaning work... Got that, prisoner?"

"Yes, Miss Rita," I said, trying to inject the requisite enthusiasm into my voice: one of the prison officers' benchmark indicators, as to whether or not a prisoner's heart was in it. "I've got it, Miss Rita!"

Prison officer Annalise chuckled and tittered again - but I didn't think it was because Ross was tickling her foot.

And now, as I compliantly accepted the rude insertion of prison officer Rita's dirty, sweaty toes into my wide open mouth, once again I found myself looking right up her pale-blue short skirt, and observing - with my now perfect, totally unrestricted view - that which I most definitely was appreciative of: prison officer 'Hellcat' Rita's pussy.

But, no! I didn't need this! I really didn't!

But, just as with prison officer Billie Jo's pussy earlier, during our "little chat" in the lift, I was finding it absolutely impossible, not to look. Impossible, not to observe. Impossible, not to appreciate... And impossible, not to want.

Sucking on and in between prison officer Rita's toes, the taste was awful. Terrible. But, as my taste buds involuntarily responded to the sharp, salt and vinegary tang of the vile, disgusting, revolting dirty-feet flavour, my mouth automatically filled with the cleaning-fluid of saliva - "just like an automatic washing machine".

And, as my saliva-slick tongue soaked, agitated, rubbed scrubbed and loosened the all-day accumulation of dirt, grime and sweat from around and in between prison officer Rita's toes, I swallowed everything. And I kept on, swallowing everything.

But, I thought, as I continued my soaking, agitating, rubbing and scrubbing, and loosening and swallowing everything as I compliantly tongue-cleaned prison officer Rita's dirty sweaty toes, and my mouth kept automatically replenishing itself with more clean saliva, at least I had something else, to focus on.

Something else, to focus on, to try and take my mind off the awful, disgusting, filthy-feet taste... Because I was focusing instead, upon the awesome, mesmerising sight, of prison officer Rita's pussy.

But, I didn't need this! No, I didn't!

Hell - despite everything I'd gone through!

Despite the state I was in: Despite my still-sore balls. Despite the awful, terrible, disgusting dirty-feet taste in my mouth - despite everything! - I was getting an erection.

Obediently sucking on prison officer 'Hellcat' Rita's dirty sweaty filthy toes, I was staring right up her uniform pale-blue short skirt, at her magnificent pussy... and at her short, copper-coloured curls.

And my erection was getting bigger.

Compliantly sucking on prison officer 'Hellcat' Rita's grubby, grimy toes, and swallowing everything, and staring up past her grubby, grimy heel right up her uniform pale-blue short skirt, at her fabulous pussy, I was becoming filled with such a pining, yearning, ravening lust, way beyond anything I had ever experienced before.

And I was getting a real hard-on!

Hell! I didn't need this! I really didn't!

Prison officer Annalise then leaned over, and... had a look.

"Oooh... big boy - get him! Hey, Rita - you are really revving his engine! Ha ha ha ha! He's going right into the red!"

"Suck harder, prisoner!" commanded the redhaired, fiery-tempered, sleep-depriving Irish accented prison officer authoritatively. "I don't care, if your foot-cleaning tongue is getting tired - I only care about results! Do you hear me? About your marks out of ten - the marks out of ten that I'll be awarding you. Because only ten out of ten is satisfactory. Nothing less. Got that? You'll need to score full marks - ten out of ten. Not eight, or nine. But ten. Understand? Only ten out of ten, prisoner Lightwood, is good enough."

The brunette prison officer, Annalise, tickled pink, chuckled and tittered some more. "Prisoner Lightwood must really like tongue-cleaning prison officers' dirty feet, mustn't he, Rita? He's going crazy down there! He's rampant! Ha ha ha ha! It's a good job his hands are restrained to the cell's bars!"

"He'd better learn to like it, Annalise. That's for sure, so it is. I think I'm going to be using prisoner Lightwood regularly. Because I can feel his tongue doing a damn fine job, so I can!"

"I'll have my dirty feet cleaned, too, in a minute," said prison officer Annalise with flabbergasting casualness. "I've got the one with the convenient toe holds and extra wiggle room. You know, Rita, the prisoner who said 'No' twice, to BJ?"

But I was barely noticing now what prison officer Annalise was saying, and what she was chuckling and tittering about.

No. Because my mind was otherwise occupied, and fully focused.

Occupied, and fully focused, on the mesmerising up-skirt sight of pantyless prison officer 'Hellcat' Rita's magnificent pussy... and on her short, copper-coloured curls.

Because prison officer Annalise was right: the redhaired, fiery-tempered, sleep-depriving Irish accented prison officer 'Hellcat' Rita was taking me "right into the red".

And incredibly my erection was getting even bigger. And even harder. A real boner. The hard-on of my life.

But, my god! I didn't need this! I really, really didn't need this!

No, I didn't!

Because prison officer Billie Jo had been right, too, in what she'd told me earlier, during our "little chat" in the lift.

I knew that, just as soon as I was allowed to get back to my miserable bunk, I was going to be taking the only remedy option available, to an 'over-excited' prisoner.

The self-administered remedy. The do-it-yourself cure.

Except of course, it wasn't a cure. But only a temporary relief, short-lived anodyne.

But it was going to have to do.

Because prison officer Billie Jo had been right: I would be "taking things in hand", a lot sooner than I thought!

The Jailhouse Blues continues - and concludes - in chapter 3.