Parole Officer's Bitch Read online

  Parole Officer’s Bitch

  by

  Yamila Abraham

  Edited by Michelle Henson

  Copyright © 2014 Yamila Abraham. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

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  ***

  “Your ass is mine, Martos!” said my dickhead parole officer.

  I sat slumped on the chair in front of his desk with my legs open wide. Sort of a ‘suck my dick’ position, because that’s what this asshole could do so far as I was concerned. I smacked my lips and then lifted my nose at him in a threatening way.

  “The fuck you talking about?” He was blowing smoke out his ass. These parole officers were all the same. Got balls so big they could hardly—

  “Your piss test came back positive for marijuana!”

  My heart fell out of my chest. For a second all I could do was sit there staring at him with my mouth gaping open. If my skin wasn’t a nice café ole color this asshole might have seen how pale I got.

  Naw, man, this ain’t even happening. I took one toke on one joint five days ago. You telling me that shit going to show up on a piss test after all this time?

  I sat up and closed my legs some. “That ain’t possible.”

  “Oh, shut the fuck up!” Man this guy was a prick. He was one of those guys who shaved his head bald, though on the outs I was learning that didn’t always mean skinhead. He was mid-thirties and thick, so you’d figure he was fat, but I didn’t see any kind of gut on him. I really couldn’t tell if he was mostly muscle or pudge under his long sleeve button down shirt. Either way, he was one of those school-yard bullies who got a taste for fucking with people early. His dad probably used to beat his little punk ass even worse than my dad did mine. He was bigger than me, probably six inches taller and 75 pounds heavier, but there’s no way he was as built. My body was nothing but lean muscle. I bet I could kick his ass, easy.

  “You smoked weed, you idiot! Plain and simple. You’re out of the can one month and you got cocky. Now you’re going to pay for it.”

  “Pay how?”

  He sneered. “Oh, you’ll see when the marshals get here.”

  My eyes nearly popped out of my head. I sat up on the edge of the chair.

  “You’re going to revoke me over such petty shit?”

  “Yeah!” He slammed his hand down on his desk. “You’re not even trying to straighten out! You knew that shit would violate you, but you did it anyway. You’re just out to have as much fun as you can before I get fed up and revoke you. Well guess what? I’ve got too many cases, too many guys actually trying to get their shit together to waste my time with little shits who think they can smoke weed while on parole.”

  “No, man—that’s not how it is. I’m getting money together to do this mobile oil change business thing. I’m trying to go straight.”

  He made a little talking person with his hand while rolling his eyes.

  “I’m serious, motherfucker! I need to get my sister and her kid out of that slum before a fucking stray bullet ends up killing them.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have smoked fucking weed!”

  “So I fucked up! I admit it. This ain’t worth sending me back to prison over. Give me at least one more fucking chance, for fucks sake!”

  He fixed his narrow eyes on me. “Why should I?”

  He was asking for real—hearing me out now. His face was kind of pouty—bitchy. I didn’t put my finger on it before, but his voice, the way he moved his hands when he talked, he might be gay. One of the other officers here was a creep who made his guys do shit for him. Maybe this guy was the same? Nah—probably not.

  “So I can help my sister and her kid,” I said.

  “She’s better off without you.”

  Now I spoke through my clenched teeth. “Not in that fucking slum.”

  “I’ll think about it. Now get the fuck out of my office.”

  I had my mouth open wide again. That’s how it is, you power-tripping motherfucker? You just going to make me sweat it?

  Instead of getting up I let myself sink back into the chair. My legs got wide again. He stared at me with his pissy bitch face.

  “You know, man—I heard you was a freak.”

  His eyebrows went up.

  “Bet you didn’t know—I’m kind of a freak, too.” I wasn’t even lying. I’d gotten freaky with my little bitch cellmate while I was down. The two of us had something special after ten years inside together. About four months before I got out we went buck-wild. I started letting him stick it into me, and that ended up being how we fucked every time because I liked it so much.

  Lucassen (that was this asshole’s name, by the way) spoke real slow and never stopped sneering. “You got me mixed up with O’Reilly.”

  I didn’t flinch. “Pssh. I don’t know about that.” I folded my arms behind my head and leaned back. “You said my ass was yours when I come in here. Maybe you ought to go on and take it, motherfucker. Might be just what you need. Get you more relaxed. You’re obviously stressing your shit.”

  Lucassen laughed. He tented his fingers together with a grin that made me get chills down my back. “Well, well, well—the gangster’s willing to play.”

  “I ain’t no gangster no more, motherfucker.”

  “Maybe you actually do care about that sister of yours, if you’re willing to go this far.”

  “I do fucking care.”

  Lucassen stared at me with this half sneer, half smile on his face. The asshole was really thinking about it. Fine, motherfucker. Whatever it took to stay out of prison.

  I brought my tongue out and licked my top lip. This made the fucker blush. I knew I was a hot piece of ass. He was probably creaming his jeans right now.

  He got up suddenly. A real sick feeling of tightness hit me between the shoulders. Lucassen went to the door. I turned back figuring he was going to open it for me to make me get the fuck out of there. Instead he locked it.

  Aw, shit. I didn’t figure I was going to have to give him my ass for real. Now that tightness moved down to my stomach and clenched hard. Fuck. I ain’t going to do this shit, man. I’d rather knife the fucker.

  Naw—think about Daniela and Hector. They need you.

  “You know, I don’t particularly like our system,” Lucassen said while coming back to his desk. He was real smug now. “If I revoke you on marijuana you’ll get 30 days maximum and then be right back out to fuck up my case load again. You won’t learn anything. What’s 30 days after you served 18 years? Useless. Those aren’t the kind of consequences that will make a gangster scumbag change.” He got a key out of the pull-out tray on his desk and leaned down to unlock a drawer.

  “I told you. I ain’t no fucking gangster no more.”

  Lucassen came back up holding a big wooden paddle. My eyes got huge again.

  “This is the kind of consequence your punk ass needs.”

  “Holy fuck.” I couldn’t believe this shit. “You going to spank me?”

  His eyes turned crazy for a second. “Yeah.”

  I made a face like a bird had shit on me. “Aw, fuck…”
I felt like my stomach was sinking straight out of me now. What the fuck had I talked my way into? The asshole was probably not even going to revoke me. Now I had to do some humiliating shit? How the fuck could I get out of this?

  “I’ve got other appointments!” He rolled back his chair so that it touched the wall behind him. “Come here. Over my knees, pants down.”

  I probably went white for real now. “Pants down?” Somehow I forced myself to get up.

  “You heard me. Hurry the fuck up!”

  I still went slow. I managed to open my fly, but my hands were getting weak. As soon as I was near him, Luccassen grabbed me and threw me over his lap. Holy shit! This asshole was stronger than I thought. He had me face down over his knees with my ass in the air.

  He yanked down my pants and boxers. “I said pants down!”

  Fuuuuck! He had my ass naked in half a second. That fucker was getting to see my strong round ass cheeks. I knew they were perfect. I’d admired them in the mirror long enough. Just the thought of this prick seeing my butt made my stomach clench even harder. I got goose bumps all over my ass. He laughed and made me feel even worse.

  “Here we are. That’s a nice little ass you’ve got, Martos.”

  “Fuck!”

  The paddle cracked across my ass. I should have been bracing myself. This shit had gotten so surreal. He hit hard, but not too hard. I felt some stinging. Somehow this calmed me down a little. Yeah, I was getting spanked. I could deal. This wasn’t so bad.

  He hit my ass with the paddle again. His swings were slow, squashing into my ass for a second before pulling away.

  With the third strike I started feeling weird. I could hear my breathing. My ass was tingling every time he lifted the paddle off it.

  Fourth strike. It was starting to hurt now—and holy shit, my dick was getting hard. He rested his free hand on my back. Even that touch had me tingling. What the fuck? It’d been a while for me, but—seriously? With this creep?

  He smacked my ass with the paddle again. “Getting a nice pink color now, Martos.”

  Fuck. His voice was getting raspy and that made my dick lurch.

  Another slow strike. I squeezed my eyes closed. My nipples were rigid and my cock was getting harder by the second. If he could just put more oomph into it—shit! The fuck was I thinking?

  “What’s that against my leg, Martos? Is your dick getting hard?”

  I grit my teeth. I felt the blood pooling in my face as much as my ass. He hit me again, this time hard enough to make me grunt.

  Luccasen switched the paddle into his other hand and started tickling his fingers over my ass. My skin was so tender I flinched. He was making the tingling go riot under his fingers. My cock was hard as stone now.

  “Oh, yeah. You are a freak, aren’t you?”

  “Fuck you, man!”

  He squeezed one side of my ass hard and laughed. “Good boy. That’s just how I like it.”

  He took the paddle in his right hand again and gave me the hardest crack so far.

  “Oof!” My dick twitched so hard I almost came. Oh fuck yes. I didn’t even care anymore. Maybe I was a freak. I wanted him to beat my ass red.

  He kept going just as hard. I made a throaty kind of grunt after every strike. He had my dick throbbing now. I wanted to yank out an orgasm right on his lap. The best I could do was reach up to pinch my nipple through my shirt. Luccasen laughed again and I stopped.

  He switched the paddle to the other hand again. This time he kneaded my inflamed ass cheeks. I was getting straight up high off it. My ass was pulsing good feelings through my whole body. If I didn’t have so much dignity I would have humped this motherfucker’s leg.

  “Well, you’re an unexpected treat, Martos. Who knew? I guess there’s more to you than just a scumbag gangster.”

  I grit my teeth again. “Maricón!”

  “I don’t speak Spanish. Lucky for you.”

  He dipped his finger between my cheeks and rubbed my asshole. I jerked with my whole body. That strong cluster of nerves was crushed, sending hardcore shockwaves to my cock. My eyes got wide again. I really was going to come! My dick was getting that sweet prickly feeling. Holy shit!

  I tore myself up from his lap. “Cut the shit, fucker!”

  I backed up against his desk. My dick was standing straight up in front of me. He looked at it like a kid at the candy shop. I had a huge tool, pulsing with veins. Luccasen grabbed it. I started struggling to get free. I jerked back harder against his desk, but then he pulled me closer to him with my dick. Fuck! I was so close. I tried to rip myself free again, but the fucker had my cock in a motherfucking vice. The prickly tickle giving me a sweet burn up to my piss hole made me lose focus. I whimpered through my nostrils, trying hard to pull back from the edge. That’s when he started pumping me hard. His strong fist clenched to my dick’s center and jacked so fast his hand was a blur.

  “Ahh!”

  My dick started convulsing right in that fucker’s hand. I was hit by an orgasm so hard my legs gave. Scrambling back and shooting jizz—my cock finally popped free from his fist. I hit the floor. My body and dick jerked two more times. It was so hardcore—my dick was spasming and my nuts were clenching up into me. I couldn’t control my own body. I had an orgasm seizure.

  “Nice!”

  I looked up at the fucker while gasping.

  “I wish I could have gotten my camera phone out.”

  I groaned and pushed myself up. “Aw, fuck you.” I shoved my still pulsating cock into my pants.

  Luccasen started wiping up my jizz off his chair with some tissues. His other hand was rubbing his cock through his pants.

  “Whatever. You bought yourself a second chance. Don’t fucking waste it.”

  I forced my shaky legs to get me to the door and unlocked it. Yeah, he was right. This shit was worth it to stay out of prison. So what if I was embarrassed? He’s the one who ought to be ashamed—not me.

  Fuck this guy.

  ***

  On the long bus ride home I had time to try to think about just what the fuck happened. I mean, yeah, in prison I let Pico fuck me. The little bitch had been begging for us to switch the whole time I was in, but he had a lot of other daddies. I didn’t want him gossiping about me to them. It was only when I knew I was on my way out that I finally let him pop me.

  That seemed to open up a different side of me. First of all, I loved the feeling of dick in my ass. Now I could just tell myself that it was nerve endings and shit, but it was more than that. Pico was bigger than me, and I kind of liked being underneath him. When he would shove me around to switch positions—kind of taking control—my dick would get even harder. I didn’t know what it was. There was some kink I had that I didn’t even know about coming to light.

  This fucking parole officer, he owned me today a thousand times worse than Pico ever did. I didn’t have no choice in the matter—and the fucker spanked me. It was so fucking hot. Was this my kink? Wanting big guys to own my ass? To turn me into the bitch?

  I don’t even know. It was so hard to think about that it made my brain itch.

  By the time I finished the bus ride to my sister’s house I’d gotten over my shit. I was able to walk in without showing any signs of what had happened to me. My sister Daniela and her eight-year-old son Hector were sitting on their beat-up couch together. She shut off the TV when she saw me. We talked in Spanish at home, the way we always had growing up.

  “How did things go with your parole officer?”

  “Fine, fine,” I said as cheerful as I could. “No worries.” I let myself crash down on the couch next to Hector. (My ass only hurt a little.)

  My sister’s face told me there was something on her mind. It would take some work to get it out of her. She knew I had my own problems.

  Her little boy looked at me. “Mr. Jackson said I need to get proper shoes for gym class or he’s going to fail me.”

  I mussed his hair. “Mr. Jackson? Who’s that, niño?”

  “Hi
s teacher,” Daniela said. Her voice was full of worry.

  So that’s what it was. Hector needed shoes and she barely had enough to cover rent. I wet my lips in my mouth. This was some bullshit right here. Daniela worked, but still had barely enough to get by. Now she had my mouth to feed on top of everything else. I felt like shit.

  I turned away from her. “You know that stuff Julio brought over when I was in prison? You still got that?”

  Her face got sad. “Oh, Miguelito, don’t.”

  I shook my head. “Just one time. Just so I can get something going.”

  “What about the oil change thing?”

  “I need money for that, Dani. Ain’t no one willing to give me a job.”

  Now she was starting to cry. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

  I clucked my tongue and dragged myself up. “Ain’t no one going to know. It’s just one time so I can get my shit together. Keep Hector out of the kitchen.”

  She hugged him against her and kept on crying. It was rough, but she knew I had to do it. There was no way to get out of the slums clean. I was going to have to cook some meth and do some deals. It was the only way. I wasn’t going to make no fucking lifestyle out of it—but for now, I had to do what I had to do.

  Of course, it wasn’t a one time thing. Julio had only stashed enough shit at her house for me to make a small batch. I managed to get $100 for Daniela, but then the rest of the money went for supplies. My guy had plenty of demand and hardly any product. He was a tweaker too dumb to learn how to cook the shit himself. I figured I’d make up one huge batch and get $1,500 to buy the oil change bike wagon I needed for the new business. Then I could start some legit hustling for once. That was how I’d get Daniela and Hector out of this shithole.

  I waited until she was at work and Hector was at school and started cooking up my shit. When the crystals were ready I called my guy and did the deal. I wanted the meth out of the house as quick as possible. I sure as fuck didn’t want Daniela in trouble.

  He gave me $600 in cash and three big gold rings, one with stones. Hopefully that shit would be enough for the wagon. I folded it all in the newspaper article with the oil change business ad.