The Scarred Bouncer: Chapter Nine

Jeffers was released in early March. Knuckle had no idea that was coming, and neither did Buck. It seemed few fellahs in the Gray Snakes knew about it. It threw the whole organization in a tailspin. Jeremy Trudale claimed to be the new leader, but not everybody respected him much. Neither Knuckle nor Buck wanted to get involved — neither were actual Gray Snakes, after all. They were more like affiliates.
Regardless, nobody but Jeffers ever approved of that “no jacking off” rule, so whatever else happened, that was out the door with Jeffers. Nobody much mentioned that at first. The most important priority was choosing a new leader — the Gray Snakes had a shipment of heroin being smuggled in, and somebody was gonna have to take charge to bribe the right guards, disburse the heroin and monitor its sale. Lotta Gray Snakes were giving inklings of a desire to take on Jeremy Trudale, but nobody done make a move yet.
So all the Gray Snakes were on edge, just waiting to see who would get shanked first and who would take charge, who would take possession of the heroin, who would pay for it and make sure none of the fiends used it up. Buck and Knuckle ain’t a part of none of that internal politicking. Neither were to be here that long, and neither wanted to rule over a buncha bikers. So they both kept their head down.
That lasted until Buck came to Knuckle with a proposal. They were lined up to head to the shower. Knuckle wore prison-issue boxers, but Buck was in another pair of filthy briefs. Both carried towels and little plastic baggies of soap.
“Hey, I gots an idea,” Buck said. The line shuffled forward towards the shower. Ten guys were allowed in at once, after ten guys left the shower, counted off by the bored-looking guard at the entrance. “Let’s pick a fellah to pimp out like that Damien homeboy was. We can make a pretty penny off somebody’s booty.”
Knuckle ain’t say nothing. His instinct was to say no. They ain’t have long to go, so picking a punk seemed like a waste of time.
On the other hand, he thought, they could turn some poor bastard’s booty into a mountain of prison smokes that could be converted into cash. Then he and Buck could walk outta here with some real money.
So he shrugged and nodded. “Who?” he asked.
Not that far away was Lance Barrymore, a newly minted Gray Snake who had just arrived. He was young and meaty but not especially big. He nervously waited to shower.
He hated the group showers.
He was crowded among the much larger men, especially that big hairy redneck and the scarface guy. He felt vulnerable. But he was a Gray Snake in good standing, and he was in a cell block controlled by the Gray Snakes. He had been keeping outta the power vacuum in the gang.
The next group of ten were sent into the showers, and Lance was among them, as were Knuckle and Buck. Lance sucked in his breath. The showers were huge and crowded. Some two hundred men filled the space, which was only meant for less than half that. Every couple minutes a small group would filter out, but some men stayed in here for hours — smoking crack or dealing it, or just sitting in lawn chairs and conducting business. The guards ain’t care how long anyone stayed in.
The showerheads were tall pillars that sprayed warm water in a three hundred and sixty degree arc. The group of ten that Lance was in were all Gray Snakes, and they kept together as they went to a mostly unused showerhead. Lance soaped himself up quietly.
His ears pricked up though, because he sensed those two weirdos, the mullet one and the scarred freak, looking at him. His booty shimmered, pale as ivory though most of Lance’s skin was well-tanned. Lance weren’t very big. He was strong enough on the outside — he was athletic, and he worked out, and his job kept him active — but he weren’t big or tough or especially muscular.
Lance’s heart raced. Were they talking about him? Were they worried he would try to take control of the gang? That seemed unlikely, but why else would they be watching him so closely? Lance gulped.
All around him naked men showered. He considered scuppering — he could go to the crowded showerhead a few yards away; that one was dominated by old men and child molesters. Nobody wanted to shower with them.
But that might be perceived as abandoning the Gray Snakes. Part of showering together as a gang was keeping each other safe. And Lance would have to pass a buncha Crips in order to get there. They were sallow and serious black men, showering like soldiers with flat faces, facing outward in an organized circle so there was no getting the drop on any of them.
Lance felt a tight pinch in his backside.
“Oh god, owwwww-!” His screaming was cut off by the redneck, Buck, putting his meaty paw over Lance’s mouth. The other Gray Snakes erupted into a hubbub of laughs and commentary, as Buck pulled Lance towards the pillar showerhead in the center of the Gray Snakes.
Buck and Knuckle were there by the showerhead too, outside the shower spray, and the rest of the Gray Snakes spread out to complete the circle. That way nobody could see Lance — Knuckle and Buck were tall enough that their heads rose above the other Gray Snakes, but Lance was concealed entirely.
Now that Lance was out of the loud shower spray, he could hear the Gray Snakes’ commentary.
“Oh shit, a punk-?”
“Jeremy allow that?”
“He short. He a short punk.”
“Hey, bitch, no screamin’,” Buck said. He was so close to Lance that his voice boomed loudly over the sounds of two hundred men and some twenty showers going at once. His hairy chest was matted to his muscles. “What’s ya name?”
“Laaaaance…” The biting pain in his backside was intense, and Lance realized it was that scarred freak Knuckle behind him, his dick pushing into Lance’s butthole.
“A’ight, Lance, from now on you is our punk,” Buck said, raising his voice so the Gray Snakes could all hear. “That means you gotta make us money.” All Lance could pay attention to was the growing pain in his butthole. He swatted behind himself, where Knuckle’s powerful body gripped his waist and plowed in.
“Whaaaat?” Lance gritted his teeth. “Please, stop, ow-“
“Shut the fuck up,” Buck said and slapped him across the face. “Punks don’t complain. No beggin’, no whinin’.”
“Ow, shit!” All Lance could think about was the pain in his asshole. Knuckle was pounding away at his booty, holding him up when Lance’s knees buckled. A trickle of blood ran down Lance’s leg, but Knuckle ignored it. “OWWWWW!”
He finally stopped begging when Buck gripped Lance’s throat and squeezed. Unable to breathe, Lance’s whole body went limp. Buck let go of his neck and punched him in the belly.
That made all of his muscles go limp at once, as he desperately tried to breathe. Knuckle’s dick rammed all the way in, breaking Lance open and going to ground with him.
“Sssssssshhhhhhiiiiiitttttt!” Lance said, his face slammed into the concrete floor. A massive wave of creamy hot cum filled him up, so deep that all Lance felt at first was the warmth. Then, when Knuckle began to pull his cock out, Lance felt twinges of intense pain and the slimy jizz flowing into him.
He was still loose and gaping, his butt bloody but washed clean by shower water in seconds. Buck slid in before Lance could even think, and the eye-splitting pain began again.
“You understand what to do?” Knuckle asked. He sat down next to Lance like they were having a casual chat. The other Gray Snakes remained in a little circle around the showerhead, blocking Lance and his newly-punked-out booty from the rest of the inmates. Their dicks were right at Knuckle’s eye level, but he ignored that. He asked again, “You understand how to punk, Lance?”
“Ow, I — ow, I don’t — I-” Lance sucked in his breath, unable to think with Buck pounding away at his asshole.
Knuckle grabbed him by the neck. He squeezed lightly, not choking him but definitely getting his attention. “Ignore your asshole. Listen to your assignment,” he said, his voice flat and throbbing in Lance’s ear. “You must jack men off with your mouth and butthole-“
“No-“

More pain exploded in his face, as Knuckle punched him hard, all without any expression on his face. Knuckle said, “Don’t say no to us. You charge one pack for mouth and three for butt for now. Once you get loose, we’ll lower it to two packs for your butt.” Knuckle paused. He slapped Lance. “You hear that?”

Lance gulped and nodded. He gritted his teeth. The sound of Buck’s cavernous chest breathing heavily overwhelmed Lance’s ears, and the blistering pain of Buck’s cock stretching his asshole open made Lance whimper. He lowered his head, unable to think of any possible reaction besides submitting to ensure this ended as soon as possible.
“You live in our cell from now on too,” Buck said. His voice staggered as he reached his orgasm, and he let out a moan. “You sleep on the floor.”
Lance nodded at that too.
The off-kilter flatness of Knuckle’s voice overpowered the showers all around. He said, “Gray Snakes, y’all hear that? We’re paying a third of his take to the organization.” That was generally seen as normal in this prison — not in the Gray Snakes, of course, because all jacking off and all punks were forbidden until this morning, but most gangs required that tax from any members who made money illicitly. The Gray Snakes were paying off guards to look the other away, after all, so the organization demanded its cut.
Plus, the Gray Snakes would make sure Lance worked hard if they were getting a cut.
Lance buried his face in his hands, as he finally felt Buck’s throbbing cock orgasm inside his guts. Cum filled him up. Buck shot a great thick load that spilled out onto the filthy concrete floor, where it was immediately washed down the drain.
Finally, Lance was done. He sprawled out on the floor. “Wait,” he said weakly. He wanted to explain that he was a Gray Snake in good standing. They couldn’t do this to him. But his ass was in such pain that he could think of the words, nor could he think to resist as Knuckle dragged him to the doorway outta the shower.
He left him there on his knees, just a few feet from the guard outside the showers. “Make at least three packs before the end of showers,” Knuckle said.
“Yeah,” Buck added, “And clean ya damn butt up too, don’t come back to the cell with ass-blood running down ya leg.” They both walked out, leaving him there on his knees, ready to earn smokes for them.

The Scarred Bouncer

Chapter One: An Affectionate Touch

Chapter Two: The Liminal Space

Chapter Three: A Glorious Face

Chapter Four: An Unexpected Connection

Chapter Five: A Deserved Choke

Chapter Six: A Good Friend

Chapter Seven: A Present of Sorts

Chapter Eight: That Sweet Release

Chapter Nine: A Plan for Repayment

Chapter Ten: An Unpleasant Chore