Introduction: An airport guards feel that they have all the power in their hands , “I’m so glad we decided to take this trip.” Agnes smiles up at her boyfriend as they walk in Bogotá’s El Dorado International Airport. It’s grand and bustling with people, many of them tourists with tanned skin and relaxed shoulders getting back to their regularly scheduled lives after a stay in Colombia.
David, Agnes’ boyfriend, directs them throught baggage dispatch, then the security line. Agnes is distracted by her phone up until the point that a grumpy-looking worker tells her to put it down and go through the detector.
“Miss, please wait by the side.” She frows at the command, but obeys. A family of 5 who were just behind her pass through without being stopped. At least David seems to have been held up as well.
“I apologize, Miss, but you need to come with me for additional search.” The employee seems adequately apologetic, but Agnes has never been stopped at an airport before.
“Is there something wrong?” She inquires.
“Our scanners picked up on something, it’s likely nothing, but as protocol dictates, we must investigate.” He explains.
David is about to be let through when Agnes waves him.
“Can my boyfriend come with, please?” Nervousness is making her palms sweaty, having her long-time partner with her would certainly help.
The security employee thinks for a moment, but nods, giving her a small, reassuring smile. Agnes explains the situation to David in quick, whispered words, and is immediately comforted by his answer.
“This will make a good story to tell your parents when we get back.” He smiles.
A good story, indeed.
They are led to a large, busting section reserved for security. There, police and airport security seem to mingle, some uniforms blue while others are gray. The employee – his name tag says Fernando A. – leads Agnes and her boyfriend to a small room hidden in a corner, drab and soulless looking, but filled with uniforms and bedraggled people who are likely passengers who were also pulled from their flights.
There’s a line and Agnes’ heart sinks. Their flight is supposed to leave in less than an hour.
“Here we are, someone will be right with you and you should make your flight in time.” Fernando smiles, but then is called to the side by a female colleague.
Agnes is distracted by a huge contraception that takes most of the room. Another scanner, she guesses, but at least the line to go through that one seems to be fast. Most people exit the room with an employee after going through, though she quickly notices that if the machine beeps, the passengers are then led to a plain wooden door on one side of the room.
“Let’s get this over with.”
Agnes steps through, confident that there’s nothing she’s hiding. To her consternation, the machine immediately sounds an incriminating tone.
“Follow me, Ma’am.” She and David are led through the dreaded wooden door. Inside, it’s mostly police, a few airport security and a couple of distressed, anxious travelers.
One of which is down to his underwear and leaning on a wall while a bored-looking cop feels him up.
“You can stand there and take off your clothing, Ma’am.” An Amazonian-looking policewoman directs Agnes towards a corner. There’s a sheet on a hanger attached to the wall, but the cover it offers is pitiful as it barely hangs from hooks so old they look oxidized.
“This can’t be right, I’m not going to undress in front of all these people.” Agnes protests, but can’t stop the woman from pushing her towards the dreaded corner.
David takes a step towards her, but Agnes sees as he’s stopped by a very tall, bearded cop.
“Do you want to make your flight or not?” The policewoman – her nametag says A. Gonzales – replies.
Guess I will just have to suck it up… Agnes swallows her protest with difficulty. The room is chilly, air-conditioned, and her skin pebbles as it’s revealed. She can feel the woman’s eyes on her as she divests her overshirt, tank top, shoes and jeans. Worse, when she turns around to catch her boyfriend’s reassuring presence, she can see the bearded cop looking as well. His eyes gleam with interest and she feels a little sick.
“Against the wall, spread your legs.”
Agnes obeys and does her best not to flinch away as she feels the policewoman’s large, rough hands pressing against her body. At least she still has underwear on…
*
Fernando slips into the deep search room just in time to see the gringa he chose be molested by Gonzales. The woman really knows what she’s doing and watching this is 100% worth wasting his work-break on. He pops a piece of gum in his mouth and leans against the back left corner where he has a nearly-perfect view of the gringa’s bare, pale, round ass as she trembles a little from the shame, exposure and cold.
Gonzales makes sure to cup the woman between her legs nice and tight and Fernando’s cock twitches at the sight, beginning to rise. He tries to remember the gringa’s name from the passport… Was it Agatha? No… Agnes, yes. She squeaks when Gonzales repeats the movement, harder, and Fernando refrains from smiling at the scene.
“I’m going to have to ask you to remove your underwear.” His partner tells the petite foreigner, who glances at her with wide eyes. She looks traumatized already, the poor thing.
“Why-why? But I-I need to…”
“Either remove it now, or you will need to go to the station and do it there. Of course, that will mean losing your flight.”
Such little fight in her. Most women would protest some more, but maybe Gonzales height and size are more intimidating than Fernando thinks, because Agnes obeys. Fuck, does she have a nice little ass. Firm and beautifully round – either she has great genetics or spends some quality time in the gym every day. It jiggles just a little when Gonzales pushes the smaller woman back against the wall.
Fernando is rock hard by now. He can’t wait to escape somewhere and masturbate to this scene. For the moment, he relishes in the way the tiny girl trembles while Gonzales gets the basic-issue lube and changes gloves. He knows exactly what is coming and the anticipation of it is making his balls clench already.
“I’m going to proceed with an internal search. Try to stay relaxed and keep your legs open.” She crouches behind the gringa, gloved hand glistening with lubricant.
“Internal whaaAAahT!”
Fernando will buy ten rounds to Gonzales after this. The policewoman gave barely any warning. She simply pushed a meaty asscheek to the side and pushed a finger inside the perfect-looking, tiny rosebud hidden by the foreigner’s plentiful behind. And the way the girl squealed almost makes him think she never took anything up there before, which he knows is unlikely. Pretty American girls are whores, everyone knows that.
“Wh-what ahh are you do-doing?” Agnes protests weakly, moaning with each push and pull of Gonzales’ thick finger probing in her asshole.
“Conducting the search, Ma’am. Did you try to smuggle any illegal substances out of the country?” Even as she speaks, the policewoman works a second finger inside the girl’s tight hole.
“Aah-ah, no, no, please.” It burns, badly, even with the lube so plentiful it’s sliding down her thighs.
“Our scanners picked on a mass deep withing your rectum, Ma’am. I’m afraid I need to check on it.” Gonzales pushes a third finger in, merciless. The girl screams, before desperately holding back the sound.
Fernando tears his eyes from the riveting scene just enough to verify that, yes, every single person in the room is watching his partner ass-rape this random foreigner with lust in their eyes. Including her boyfriend, who has a very telling tent on his beige shorts. What a fucking wuss… Fernando would kill someone before letting this happen to his girl. But he can admit that watching this American taking it in the ass is not bothering him at all. Well, not in the bad sense, at least.
“My re-rectum?” The information seems to not be registering right, by the way the girl just stares back at the policewoman, now 4 fingers deep in her ass, and does nothing.
“Yes. Should be just a little deeper. Take a deep breath, sweetheart.” Her tone is as close to caring as she ever can be. Fernando guesses that being almost a hand-deep in someone’s ass can really endear them to you, even if you are a cold bitch like Gonzales.
He stops breathing when it happens. Tucking her thumb with her other fingers, Gonzales makes a pear shape with her hand and pushes against Agnes’ struggling, now reddish hole. The girl screams again, this time, long and loud, unable to hold back the sound at all. It must hurt like hell. She’s short and slim, small and dainty-looking, long dark locks cascading down her back in a distinctly feminine manner, she’s all delicate curves and fragile limbs. And Gonzales’ hand is huge. The way it pushes the girl’s asshole open is obscene, near impossible. She might be tearing something, but somehow, that only makes the scene hotter.
Fernando’s cock is throbbing, aching. Agnes cries pitifully, humiliated, exposed and in pain. Gonzales is up to her wrist in her ass now, and she pushes forward. Fernando goes light-headed with how hard he comes at the sight, without touching himself at all. Totally worth the messy boxers, he thinks to himself.
“Ple-please, no, no, sstop, please!” He almost forgot the point of all of this, but luckily his partner didn’t. She stands up, presumably to get a better angle, and briefly covers the foreigner’s body with hers. Then she pushes deeper in the girl, hard, wringing another pained scream from her.
When she pulls away, her hand isn’t up the young woman’s anus anymore. Instead, it’s holding a small packet full of suspicious-looking powder and pills, covered with body-juice and lube. Agnes, or whoever that girl is called, is about to get fucked a whole new way.
Chapter 2
Mixed prisons seemed like a great idea when Agnes heard about them in the news. A step forward towards gender equality and trans rights. That’s what was said and it seemed to make sense at the time. Now, well… Now Agnes is a petite, young, pretty girl who never committed a single crime in her life and who is locked in a building along with criminals, murderers and rapists, most of which are males.
It means her days are scary and her nights terrifying. Men touch her all the time. A slap on her ass, a squeeze on her breast, she even got pulled into a few unwanted kisses. The women are no better. There are some who also seem to want to harass her – on one of the communal showers, she was pushed against a wall and almost fingerfucked against her will in her very first day – and others who are jealous of the attention she’s getting. Those have given her the stinky eye plenty, but they seem wary of actually attacking her. Agnes seems too valuable as a sex doll to ruin with fists and nails.
Nothing, however, has been as dire as this.
Yard work. Better than knitting? Probably. Less dangerous? No. Turns out that a bathroom break for their jailer is enough. Gunger, the local nazi gang leader full of face tattoos takes it as his chance. He has Agnes’ working jumper ripped right down the middle and her face-down on the dirt in one minute. He rips her panties apart and fists her hair.
“Hey girly, what do you think a shovel shaft will feel like when it’s poking your stomach, uh?” He presses the tip against her ass threateningly, but doesn’t push it in.
Agnes blubbers, incoherent, more terrified than she has ever been in her life. The shaft feels dry, unyielding and splintering even without force applied. It will rip me apart, she thinks, desperate, it will kill me. She knows it will be a humiliating, excruciating death.
“Get the fuck off of her.” Luckily, someone interrupts before the threat can be carried through. She has never heard this voice before. It’s rough and so low it’s a growl.
Agnes feels the weight being pulled off of her. Doing her best to cover herself, she turns around and is surprised to see her savior. Brutus, the quiet giant of the prison that all gangs seem to respect and leave alone. For one good reason: he is huge. Over 7 feet tall and nearly as wide, big hands and made of muscles. His skin is a dark chocolate, smooth but also intimidating. Nonetheless, he keeps to himself mostly. Picks no fights with anyone and so, no one is dumb enough to pick a fight with him.
Except this one. Before their guard is back, Brutus has Gunger and his goonies on the ground and groaning with broken bones. He helps Agnes up and takes off his shirt, giving it to her to cover up.
“I don’t know how to thank you.” She tells him, tears in her eyes.
He gives her a surprisingly shy, sweet smile.
“Stay close and I will protect you.” He promises.
She does.
*
Their first time happens in the hidden nook behind the courtyard. He carries her because she’s so much smaller than him, and his cock in her pussy feels a lot like being fisted by that policewoman did, it burns going in and stretches her beyond her limits. But Brutus is slow and gentle, he licked her to orgasm before and he spreads sweet, reassuring kisses on her face. When Agnes comes, the stretch of his cock within her is so extreme it makes the clenching hurt. Nonetheless, it’s a delicious feeling.
*
“I-I’m just afraid, Bru, you’re so big.” Agnes defends herself, not wanting to upset him but not willing to give in to his wish, not this time.
“But you told me you have done it before, with your ex, right?” Brutus, usually so sweet and understanding, seems as firm in this stance as she is.
“Once, and it was so uncomfortable we never did it again. He was also a foot smaller than you!” Agnes insists.
“Didn’t a policewoman fist you? Isn’t that why you’re here?” His voice rises as he gets frustrated. For the first time since he saved her, Agnes takes a step back from him, afraid.
“And that was the worse pain I’ve ever felt, it was torture.” Besides, the Amazonian policewoman’s fist was still thinner and went in only half-way the length of Brutus’ humongous penis, but Agnes thinks this might not be the winning argument. “I’m sorry, baby, but I can’t.”
But Brutus won’t hear ‘no’ for an answer. He’s not violent, to Agnes’ relief. But what he does turns out to be even worse. Their next mealtime, he deliberately sits away from her.
Agnes feels a hundred burning eyes on her back. Suddenly, she’s terrified all over again.
*
She limps down the corridor towards the library. Agnes finds him on his favored spot, hidden by the bookcases, sitting on the lone sofa at the back, a book in his grasp made comically small by his huge hands.
“Brutus…” She’s crying. “I’m so-sorry, so, sorry.” She sobs pathetically.
The black man frowns, but doesn’t unthaw as fast as she hoped he would.
“What for?” He asks.
“I should have stood by you.” Everything hurts. She got fingerfucked in the showers yesterday, got a beating today, and she’s afraid. Terrified. Gunger has been giving her looks and yard work is tomorrow.
Agnes would rather the devil she knows, after all.
“You made your choice.” His voice is rough, hard. But there’s some interest in his eyes, a little feeling hidden in his tone.
“I made the wrong choice!” She kneels near the sofa. “Please, I miss you.” She grabs his hand, brings it to her face. “I will do anything, Bru.”
He caresses her softly.
“Let’s see about that.”
*
The guards never interfere. No matter how many screams there are, unless it’s a rebellion, they don’t care. That afternoon, Brutus directs her to his cell. It’s right off the main yard, open and easily visible to all. People walk by every other second.
He kisses her roughly and throws her on his cot. Agnes knows what she has to do. Maybe there’s some kindness left in him, because it seems like Brutus is aiming just for a very public vaginal sex, which they had many times already. But even as she’s trembling with fear, Agnes gets the lube from under the tile she knows it’s hidden.
“I’m ready, Bru.” She tells him, her smile is brittle.
He doesn’t tell her she doesn’t have to do this, because she does. Maybe he would be merciful today, but tomorrow he would demand it again and they would be back to square one. Better get it over with, she tries to console herself.
Agnes sucks him off first and tries her best not to cry. He’s so huge she can not get anything past the very tip in her mouth, as much as she tries. She wasn’t lying before, the fisting that got her in this situation was the worst pain she ever felt. When she and David messed around it hurt as well, and he had been gentle.
She only notices she’s crying when Brutus wipes her tears. Nonetheless, he spreads lube on his fingers, his cock and her. Positions her on all fours on the cot and works her asshole open. He goes slow at first, but excitement quickly gets the best of him, and he’s fucking her with three fingers while she cries and tries not to scream.
“I want you on top.” He says, to her surprise, then lies down on the small cot, cock standing up obscenely.
In a way, it’s cruel. It’s testing her resolve to keep her promise, do anything. Agnes kneels over him, he parts her cheeks with big hands and she presses the head of his cock against her small hole. It’s much more difficult to even get it to go in than she thought. Her muscles are tight and everything is slippery. He slides against her more than a couple of times.
That’s when Brutus gets impatient. He manhandles her into a prone position, ass up, lying on the cot. He covers her body with his and works three, then four fingers in her tiny rosebud. When he takes them out, he immediately pushes the head of his cock against her gaping hole.
“Bru-brutus, aahhh!” Agnes screams herself raw. It’s like being impaled by a tree log, he feels so big and heavy inside her.
“Fuck baby, feel so good.” He mumbles his appreciation, but even as she struggles, he simply holds her in place and pushes more.
Agnes cries out again, now sobbing. I have to take it, take it… Someone goes by the cell and laughs. She refuses to open her eyes, because she knows there’s an audience. Plus, everyone can head, and she can’t stop screaming. She knows Brutus’ cock isn’t even halfway in.
“Just a little more, baby.” He promises. He’s a liar.
With each thrust, he invades deeper in her bowels. The sensation is completely alien and it lights up all of Agnes’ danger sensors. He’s rearranging her intestines, he could puncture or tear something, could make her disabled. But the pain is mostly in her anus, the previously tight ring of muscle burns like lava. Each thrust drags against it, torturous.
“Ple-please! Please!” She doesn’t even know what she’s begging for, she just needs an outlet. Too much feeling, just too much.
And Brutus surprises her even now. He slips a hand under her body and finds her clitoris in seconds. After so long, he knows her body very well. Flickering, rubbing, circling, the touch is exact, perfect, and it gets Agnes’ pussy drooling even as she’s still screaming and crying in agony.
“Come for me, sweety, come on, baby.” He whispers against her ear, mercilessly driving his tool in and out of her petite, helpless body, his strong fingers exacting a special brand of torture on her clitoris.
When Agnes comes, it’s like an out-of-body experience. Her whole body seizes, her hearing goes deaf, the world goes dark. She never knew extreme pleasure and unbearable pain could exist side-by-side like this. What a way to learn that lesson…
***
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