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Possum Prison Pussy

Part 8: Triple Threat

Sneak Peek

Sylva was awoken to the sound of the cell door opening. The possum lurched awake, his hair a mess, his loins a crusty jumble of what happened the night before. He hazily blinked his eyes before rubbing them. His vision cleared to show the familiar black and white mug of his favorite guard and rapist as he entered the room.

“Ugh,” Sylva groaned. “What the hell do you want?”

“Damn kid, you look like shit,” Crux chuckled and leaned against the door. “Quick, wash up. Boss wants to see you.”

“You calling him boss now too?” Sylva took a deep breath in from his nose as he threw his feet over the edge of the bed. He scowled as the smell of stale musk hit him. He groaned before stretching, cracking his back into alignment. He was in the same private cell that he met the badger in. He was allowed to simply fall asleep in that cell after Theo left him. As Theo promised, Crux came to pick him up in the morning.

“I call him whatever the fuck I want to call him,” Crux grinned from the shade of the door. “Now clean up. Use the private shower here.”

“You going to fuck me like you did last time?” Sylva scowled at him.

“Oh please,” Crux snorted, his nostrils flaring. “You were quivering like a whore in heat by the time I was done with you. If anything you should have paid me for that lay.”

“So you’re telling me you’re the whore now?” Sylva stood up and padded his feet over to the bathroom, but before he could fully make it, Crux’s night stick slammed down in front of him on the archway. Sylva yipped, his hands and tail coming to curl around himself.

“The fuck did you just call me, Skank?” Crux growled.

“I…” Fear sucked the air out of Sylva’s lungs, his body having a violent reaction. He shivered, his knees almost gave out, and he could feel tears stinging his eyes.

“That’s what I fucking thought,” Crux leaned into Sylva’s ear, the possum shaking like a leaf in a storm. “You’re fucking nothing you piece of lowlife trash. You’re LUCKY you have one thing no one else has in this prison because otherwise you’d have been found dead in the showers weeks ago. Your little punk ass better shape the fuck up or Tyson be damned, you’ll be found hanging from your cell. GOT THAT!”

Sylva collapsed with a squeak onto the floor, hugging his legs to his chest and fighting back sobs.

“Yeah,” Crux murred around a sadistic grin. “There you go. You look better on the floor, all crusty and used up. I give you a week before those goods go bad the way you’re slamming on dick.”

Crux grunted before gripping a fist full of Sylva’s hair and yanking him up.

“Look at me, LOOK AT ME!” Crux shouted.

Sylva screamed and tried to get away, but Crux’s powerful, blunt nails dug into the opossum’s scalp.

“Look at me now or I’ll make sure you disappear in a hole where even god won’t find your rotting ass.”

Sylva quivered, his eyes slowly opening up to see his rapists snarling grin.

“Good, now listen, LISTEN!” Crux smacked his night stick against the frame, the metal ringing out and denting against it. “You’re going to go into that shower, you’re going to clean up, and you’re not going to breath a fucking word about this little interaction here. I came here, you were bright and cheery, and I was a fucking gentleman. Say it!”

Sylva screamed, quivering before he took a shaky breath.

“Y-You came here…” Sylva started.

“Yeah? Go on,” Crux grinned darkly.

“I-I-I w-was b-b-b-bright and ch-cheery,” Sylva sniffed.

“And?” Crux leaned in, gripping Sylva’s hair harder. “What else you miserable cunt?”

“And you were a gentleman,” Sylva spat out quickly.

“Good,” Crux tossed Sylva towards the door, the possum catching himself and preventing his face from smacking on the bathroom floor. “Now clean up. You’re LUCKY I don’t have time to beat some respect into that ass you piece of worthless fuck trash. Got me?!”

Sylva simply scurried into the shower as Crux glared at him, his massive horse cock throbbing in his uniform slacks. The possum stifled his sobs and tried to calm himself as he got the water warmed up and dove into the private stall. He let his tears stream down his face, the water washing them down the drain.

A sudden tap on the glass forced his eyes open. The frosted image of Crux knocking his night stick against the glass forced a surprised scream out of Sylva.

“I don’t hear no scrubbing. Hurry up or I’ll come in there and do it myself,” the zebra warned. His image loomed in the glass, a constant reminder that Sylva was one grievance away from another prison rape. Adrenaline spiked in his veins as he grabbed the bar of soap and started working the crust out of his loins.

Crux didn’t say much after that, but Sylva could feel his eyes on him from the glass. Those dark, coal like orbs belittled and objectified him from beyond the frosted barrier. A barrier Crux could easily open at any time. It was a formality, a blessing Crux allowed him to have. The illusion of privacy.

Sylva had gotten comfortable in Magnus’s services. So comfortable that he forgot that he was in a prison. He was a piece of flesh that Magnus had his hooks in. He could throw him at anyone at any time, and he was going to milk his pussy for every dollar and cent he could. The reality of where he stood weighed like a stone in his guts, making it hard to breath. He was trapped, and he had no way out, he was cornered, and defenseless, at the mercy of the cruel whims of more powerful men.

And it burned him inside.

The glass door suddenly swung open, Crux having opened it with his night stick.

“Ya done?” Crux glared down at the possum. Sylva felt no familiarity or comfort in those eyes. Crux was looking at a caged animal. One he took pleasure in beating. Sylva wasn’t a being with autonomy, but a circus rat that was to play for other’s amusement.

“Yeah,” Sylva sniffed, turning off the water. “Where are my clothes?”

A dark grin played on Crux’s muzzle.

“Ain’t got none,” he snorted. “Now get moving.”

Sylva crossed his arms and made his way to the towels to dry himself off, but Crux’s night stick came down on the towels before the possum could grab one.

“No,” Crux growled. “No time for a towel. You’ll just have to drip dry.”

“But, I’m going to see Magnus. Don’t I need to look my best?”

“Shake it off,” Crux let the words rumble from his throat. “Sake it off like a bitch in the street.”

Sylva’s heart burned, but he managed to keep his hatred out of his eyes. He took a deep breath and let the cold trickle down his spine before his muscles took over. He hadn’t done this since he was a kid. He could remember the last day he did it was when he was playing in the sprinkler out front and his mother told him to use a towel instead of shaking like a dog.

Sylva’s muscles shuddered before he shook, his entire body whipping the water off and causing his ears to smack his face a bit before he rested up. Most of the water was whipped off him, but he was still matted.

“Good girl,” Crux grunted, his eyes clearly on Sylva’s large ass cheeks as they jiggled behind him. He snagged a towel and threw it in Sylva’s face. “You earned yourself a rag. Try to dry off before we get to Magnus.”

Sylva kept the towel to his face, rubbing the water from his muzzle. Crux thought the possum was hiding his tears, but in truth, the possum was seething. He wanted to claw the damn zebra’s eyes out! He wanted to pulverize his nuts to jam! He hated feeling so helpless! At least for Magnus, he got protection out of doing this perverse work. This was just pure humiliation, and he HATED it.

Sylva jumped as he felt that night stick gently come to the small of his back, forcing him to arch up.

“Come on,” Crux smirked, enjoying the view of that sweet ass and that beautiful arch. “Don’t want to keep the Boss waiting.”

With that they left the cell, Sylva drying himself off as they walked down the hall. Magnus’s personal cell wasn’t too far off from where the possum spent the night. By the time Sylva’s feet stopped leaving wet prints behind him, they were at his door.

“Now, hurry up and finish drying,” Crux said in hushed tones.

“Did you know why Magnus wanted to see me?” Sylva asked a seemingly innocent question, but Crux simply brandished his night stick, putting it under Sylva’s chin and forcing him to look him in the eye.

“Hurry up and finish drying,” Crux repeated. Fear shot down Sylva’s spine and he jerked his head away to finish patting his legs down. “Good enough.”

Crux knocked on the door a few times before pulling out a ring of keys and opening the door.

“Were here Magnus,” Crux grunted.

“Come in,” Magnus grunted, but it sounded lighter somehow. Sylva padded his way into the room, but Crux yanked his towel away, leaving him exposed. He glared back at the zebra, but he was sniffing the towel. A shiver of disgust ran down the possum’s spine before he scurried into the cell. Crux closed the door behind him, leaving all three of them with some privacy.

Magnus was only wearing his boxers as he sat at his desk. He had several books open, a few charts on the walls with scribbled notes, and his breakfast on a tray. He must have opted to have breakfast brought to his cell today. Sylva didn’t know if that was something Magnus could do before, or if his influence was growing.

“Uh…Boss?” Sylva pressed his fingers together.

“Here,” Magnus pointed to the floor next to him as he continued to scribble things down.

Sylva padded forward before coming to a stop. Magnus’s, thick, calloused fingers from lifting came down on his shoulder. The gruff man’s hand brushed over the possums silky soft and slightly damp fur. His hand slipped down his back and came to rest just above his famous cheeks. Suddenly Magnus pulled him closer, the possum giving a little squeak, but the touch wasn’t malicious in nature. It almost felt…gentle? Magnus was still rough and calloused in everything he did, but for some reason, this just felt…gentle for the massive elephant. His hand came down to gently rub over those prized cheeks, his massive mitt of a hand gently squeezing them.

“Look,” Magnus ordered, but his voice was smooth. As smooth as a gruff daddy who cranked cigars could have as a voice anyway.

Sylva turned his head to look at the table. It was a bunch of numbers and charts, but the one in the center was a color coded map of the prison. Several areas were filled in with red and green, but there was definitely more green than red.

“This is my empire today,” Magnus pulled an old sheet where there was clearly more red. “This was my empire two months ago.”

“O-Oh?” Sylva’s voice was shaky, still a little uneasy from how Crux rattled him this morning. But Sylva started to slip into his role as loyal prison bitch. His one hand slipped up under Magnus’s arm to grip his shoulder, his soft and tinny arm compared to that python of power was little more than a twig to the elephant. Sylva’s other hand went to gently roll over the elephant’s chest, his fingers tracing shaky circles in his salt and pepper chest hair.

“I wanted to let you know that I’m very impressed with your work,” Magnus put the old map away revealing the new one again. He then pointed to several yellow dots on the map. The majority of them were in the green areas, but a good helping of them were in the red. “These are all the clients that have asked for your services. You’ve given me a foothold in places I thought would take me months to even get into, but now they’re all flocking to me, begging to get into that snatch of yours.”

Magnus’s hand gripped Sylva’s ass, squeezing that cheek and kneading it gently. It almost felt good.

“S-So I’m…I’m valuable to you? I’m doing a good job?” Sylva needed to make sure that Magnus thought he held all the cards, but this information was very useful. He would have to report back to Checkers and see if he could help him use this to his advantage.

“You’ve moved my time table up by nearly six months,” Magnus finally turned to look at him, his trunk forcing Sylva to look him in the eyes. “You’re my golden goose. You keep performing the way you have been, and I might just be willing to give you a little more freedom.”

“Freedom? How?” Sylva furrowed his brow.

“See these corridors?” Magnus pointed to strips of red. “Once I’ve secured them I’ll have a direct route all throughout the prison. There won’t be any place I can’t go. No place that anyone could hide anything from me. If you keep making me money and bagging me more guards, then I might be willing to let you have the same privileges as the rest of my inner circle.”

“Privileges? Like what?” Sylva put on his most innocent face he could. He didn’t know if Magnus was buying it, but his scowl was pleasantly absent. This was the happiest he had ever seen the brute.

“How would you like your own private cell, right next to mine?” Magnus smirked.

“My own place? Like yours?” Sylva felt his heart bloom. It would be a dream to have a room all to himself.

“Yeah, if you earn it,” Magnus had a dark smirk. Sylva felt a strange sense of relief. His viciously public life would finally have a semblance of privacy again. “It would help with arranging meetings if you could have a private cell. It would be easier than arranging an escort for you every night we have a client.”

“So…It would help you too Boss?” Sylva asked, his fingers slipping up and down his chest.

“Yeah, it would,” Magnus nodded, his hand squeezing those cheeks like he was marveling the quality of a melon. “Of course it won’t happen right away. These things take time. But if you keep doing good like you have been, all this could be yours.”

Magnus gestured with his free hand to the rest of the room.

Sylva looked around where that hand motioned. His eyes were wide and glittering, he didn’t have to fake it as he realized how big this would be for him.

“Now, if you want that room, you’re going to have to up your game,” Magnus smirked before looking at Crux. “Take a walk, I need some time with the merchandise.”

“Don’t forget—” Crux started.

“Don’t YOU forget who owns you,” Magnus cut the zebra off. “When I give an order, you obey. When I say jump, you don’t even ask how high. You should already know how high to jump. When I tell you to go take a walk, the next thing I hear should be the sound of that damn door opening.”

Crux was gritting his teeth, his words caught in his throat, his hand white knuckling the nob on the door.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” Crux grunted before leaving.

“Now,” Magnus pulled Sylva closer, his other hand brushing the cigar burn the elephant marked on Sylva’s face with the back of his knuckle. “Added responsibilities.”

“I…I’m more than willing to do what you need Magnus,” Sylva cupped the man’s hand and nuzzled into it. “Whatever you want.”

“I said added responsibilities,” Magnus smirked. “You think playing ‘good boi’ with me is anything new? No, we’re talking general maintenance.”

“Maintenance?” Sylva cocked his head.

“The three pillars of your worth are as stated by your clients,” Magnus lifted one finger. “The first, is your enthusiasm. Your clients have all reported that you fulfilled their desires and more because they believed you really wanted to.”

Sylva nodded. He wasn’t really acting in all those situations. He knew exactly what clients Magnus was referring to. Those guys knew how to fuck, despite the situation being all about them, they never left Sylva hanging.

“That being said, you need to do that with all your clients. Every, last, one. No more slap ass blowjobs.” Magnus ordered before lifting another finger. “The next is your looks. You’re a sweet looking piece of ass, so continue to work out and bathe. Let me know if there is anything else you require to maintain your body the way it is. And if anyone scars your pretty little face, let me know who they are.”

The way Magnus said that last part sent a shiver down Sylva’s spine.

“And lastly,” Magnus gave the possum’s ass a little slap. “Is the quality of your goods. People are already asking if you’re still tight after your previous clients. So, to maintain the quality of your product, I’m implementing a rotating schedule for your holes. You will have days where you rest your pussy. Today is one of those days, but you won’t be sitting with your thumbs up your ass.”

Magnus stood up and guided Sylva over to the bed, having him sit down and spread his legs. Sylva knew better than to reject Magnus by now, so he just numbed himself up and let the elephant have his way. He was ready to let the big guy work him over but then Magnus took his desk chair, spun it around and sat in it, looking at the possum.

“Now, do your kegel exercises,” Magnus had that serious expression on his muzzle, his coal like eyes digging into Sylva’s soul.

The possum wanted to laugh at the absurdity of what his prison pimp had just ordered him to do, but he bit his tongue before flexing his pussy muscles and then relaxed them.

“Again,” Magnus nodded.

Sylva continued to flex his pussy, his inner walls feeling sore from his last client.

“Is that good?” Sylva asked.

“I’ll let you know when I’m satisfied,” Magnus grunted, reaching behind his chair and pulling out a book. “Keep going until I tell you to stop.”

“Oh…Okay,” Sylva furrowed his brow in confusion before continuing his exercises. It was unnerving how he needed to keep working his pussy walls, his muscles flexing as he sat there on the bed. The minutes droned on in a series of flexing and relaxing. The time between each flex getting longer as his pussy muscles got tired. The only indicator of the passage of time was the steady flipping of pages as Magnus continued reading his book.

“B-Boss, I’m kind of getting tired here—”

“Did I tell you to stop?” Magnus simply asked as he flipped the pages of his book, his reading glasses gently resting on his trunk as he did so.

“No,” Sylva went back to flexing his pussy walls, not waiting for Magnus to speak up again. It was a slow and daunting ride not knowing when he was going to be given the okay to stop. It went on for what felt like hours, flexing his tired pelvic muscles over and over, endlessly without an end in sight. Just when he thought he was going to give up, Magnus spoke up.

“That’s good for today,” Magnus snapped his book closed and Sylva let his legs spread wide to relax his aching pussy walls. “You’ll be doing those exercises for at least one hour a day, every day. The days you get fucked in your pussy you can take off because they’ll be worked over a different way, but you’ll be keeping it tight for your clients.”

“And for you big guy,” Sylva panted. He wasn’t even sweating, but he felt the need to pant. He needed to saturate his blood with oxygen so they could work over his aching pussy walls. They felt pumped, like the way his calves did after a good run.

“That’s a given,” Magnus let Sylva’s honeyed words roll right off him. He tossed his book back onto the desk before walking his way up to the door and knocking on it. The cell flew open and Crux came back into the room.

“Now?” Crux huffed.

“Watch the attitude, you little shit,” Magnus growled. “I own you.”

“Yeah! You own me,” Crux snorted. “But if you’re going to own me, I’m at least going to get something out of it. My money is just as good as anyone else’s and I want that faggot fuck trash bouncing on my horse cock until he FUCKING BLEEDS!”

There was a moment of silence. Magnus glowered at Crux, the muscled zebra huffing as his eyes locked with the elephants. Magnus was slightly taller than the guard, and that little size difference seemed to grow the longer the zebra locked eyes with him. Crux’s chest deflated, his shoulders slowly slumped. He tried to puff them back up, but whatever silent contest was going on was lost the moment his delts drooped.

“You want to repeat that, cuck?” Magnus’s voice was cold with a steely edge. Crux’s ears twitched and a vein throbbed against his forehead. He grit his teeth for a moment before looking away and snorting.

“No Boss,” Crux huffed.

“Good,” Magnus’s trunk moved to grip Crux by his muzzle and make him look directly into his eyes. “Now, you’re going to take my bitch, and you’re going to get what is owed to you. And be gentle.”

“Gentle? What did she say about me?” Crux shot daggers over at the possum.

“Nothing,” Magnus forced him to look him in the eyes again. “Should she have?”

“N-No,” Crux shook his head. “Nothin’, I swear.”

“You know what happens to people when they cross me Crux,” Magnus pulled away. “You know what? I’m going to stay.”

“You what?” Crux’s ears perked up.

“You will?” Sylva looked up from the bed.

“I can’t have a repeat of what happened with Diesel. This way I will know exactly who is being too rough.” Magnus glared over at Sylva, his dark eyes glinting into his soul.

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