An Eye for an Eye

Chapter Two: Deal with the Devil

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Disclaimer: All the characters/situations are original and are the brainchild of Benkenshin, my muse and mentor into the world of original fiction.

Warning: This chapter contains N/C, M/M/M material. You’ve been warned.

To Smithsbabe, Scarlet Lantern and Anon (whoever you are!): Thanks for the reviews—I really appreciate it!

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Smith had never overused his telephone access so his requesting one now raised no eyebrows. He had to be sure of his information before he went to work. After the phone call, he made his way to the weight room where Brian’s bunkmate was holding court, a group of his most trusted friends in a circle around him.

“You. I wanna talk to you,” Smith said.

“What do you want?” Vic demanded.

“Mind if I sit?”

“Do whatever the fuck you want, I don’t care. Whaddaya want? I’m a busy man.”

“It’s not what I want that brings me here—its what I can give you.” He waited for the raucous laughter of Vic’s goons to die down before continuing. “I’d rather do this in private, but if you want your lieutenants to hear what I have to say, hey, that’s fine by me.”

Vic scoffed. “What you can say to me, you can say to them.”

“Fine. I just heard that your baby brother has just gotten himself sent to prison.”

“I already knew that, asswipe. He was framed.”

Smith laughed. “Every guy in here says that. I said it at my trial and so did you. ‘Your Honour, I have no idea how all those drugs got into the backseat of my car. The cops planted it there. Honest.’ Yeah, right.”

“So? So what?”

“He got sent to Statesville Prison because of his crimes and is now awaiting a cell in C Block. In case you don’t know, C Block is where the scum of the scum get sent. It’s the one block in the entire place where the guards are so afraid of the cons, none of ‘em will patrol the halls unless they’re in groups and armed to the teeth.”

“Wait a goddamn minute. How did you find out where he got sent? Even I didn’t know where he was going. How the hell did you…?”

“I know where he went because I’ve got contacts in just about every major maximum security penitentiary in the country. You don’t.”

Vic scoffed in an effort to hide the sick feeling he suddenly had in his gut. The old man was bluffing, he had to be. “No one has that much power, Gramps. You don’t know shit.” But the old man sounded so certain; what if he was right? Christ, Simon’s better off dead than end up in Statesville, he thought. Statesville makes this place look like a Mormon retirement community.

Smith leaned forward until his elbows rested on his knees. “If I don’t know shit, then how did I know which cell block he was in? How did I know that he was transferred there two hours ago?” Smith glanced over the faces of Vic’s goons and let his utter contempt for them show. “You don’t believe me? Then get one of your friends to find out. I can wait. If I’m wrong, you can kill me. Deal?”

Vic jerked his head toward the most faithful of his crew. “See if you can find out if what he said is true.”

The man nodded and left the room. Vic and Smith simply stared at one another until the man came back. His face was paler than when he’d left the room twenty minutes previously. He whispered in Vic ear and Vic sighed. It was true.

“OK, so you know he’s in Statesville. Big fucking deal. Why are you here?”

“To tell you that with one phone call, I can have what you’ve and your lackeys have been doing to Brian done to Simon. Every single night.”

“Get lost,” Vic said, addressed his group of followers without turning his head. He never broke the eye contact with the old man. “I wanna talk to Gramps here alone.” He turned and surveyed Smith with his most intimating glare.

“Don’t try to frighten me, I’m not scared of you,” Smith sneered.

“You should be. Do you know how many men I’ve killed? Taking you out would be no problem.”

“That’s true—it’s not so hard to kill an old man like me—a slip on the stairs…poof! I’m a worm feast. But if you do take me out, it will become a big problem for your little brother. You wanna know how?” Because of the tittle-tattle he’d heard in the halls and snatches of conversations between the guards themselves, Smith knew that Vic and his brother Simon were close. There were more rumours and gossip in here than in a ladies’ sewing circle. Vic didn’t answer and his lack of response proved Smith’s hunch was correct. “If I don’t call my associate at Statesville in ten minutes, he’s gonna pass the word that Simon can be the bitch for the highest bidder. And just like every other prison anywhere in the world, smokes and flesh pass for currency there too.”

“I don’t believe you,” Vic snarled, tossing his spent joint on the floor. He knew Smith was right about the remark about currency but he’d be damned if he was going to admit it. He’d personally handed over Brian to several of his friends at least once every ten days in order to have a steady supply of whatever drugs he wanted that month—even the guards were in on it. As long as he shared a portion of his stash with them, they turned a blind eye and a deaf ear to what was done to get it.

After his suppliers had been overly enthusiastic one night, Brian had had emergency surgery and was in the infirmary for a week. It took him almost as long to sit down normally again. If that happened to Simon…Vic could not suppress a shudder.

“For the next two months, whatever you or your pack of wolves does to Brian, it will be done to Simon. If Brian is safe, then Simon is safe. It's as simple as that.”

“You’re lying!”

Smith shrugged. “Go ahead. Call my bluff. I have to warn you that if you prevent me from making my phone call, your baby brother will be someone’s bitch by sunset. Imagine Simon crying and biting his pillow as some bull queer takes him, pounding his ass so hard and fast that it bleeds--”

“Shut up!”

“—or when his ass is too ripped apart to be used anymore, being forced to his knees and takes that same dick into his mouth, all bloody and smelling of shit...and not just one either. Five or six guys, waiting their turn, one after another. Once the first guy comes, he barely has time to swallow before another cock is shoved down his throat, repeating the process over and over…”

“SHUT UP!” Vic roared and stood up to his full height. He tightened his grip on the dumbbell in his hand and raised it until it was level with Smith’s head, intending to smash it into his hateful grinning face, battering him over and over until his brains and blood were dripping from the walls. That would teach the old coot to defy who really ruled this prison!

The guard who was keeping watch over the men, was at the other end of the weight room, and looked their way when he heard Vic’s angry shout. He folded up his newspaper and reached down to draw his revolver from its holster at his side. Vic took the warning and dropped the weight onto the floor, raising his hands to show that he was now unarmed and further intervention was unnecessary.

“Keep your fucking voice down!” Smith hissed. Both he and Vic watched the guard put his gun back in his holster. He turned back to reading his newspaper, but kept a watchful eye on the two men nonetheless.

“I don’t care if it’s because of you or your gang, if anything—and I mean anything—happens to that boy, Simon gets it too. I’ll make sure he gets it twice as hard for twice as long.”

“You want me to be his goddamn babysitter?”

“If you want no harm to come to your baby bro, then the answer to your question is yes. You have eyes and ears all through this place—use them to keep the kid from any harm. From anyone. Including the guards. I know they’re on your payroll too.”

“That’s fucking blackmail! You can’t do this!” Vic cringed as the visual image of Simon’s ass being brutally penetrated while being forced to go down on by another group of horny sadistic bastards like himself or his crew settled itself into his brain.

“I am doing this,” Smith replied. “And yes it is blackmail, but there’s nothing you can do about it. I’ve got you by the short and curlies and you know it.” He checked his watch. “You’ve got six minutes.”

“Alright, alright, goddamn it! Let me think for a minute, will ya?”

“No. Five minutes. Also, you will pay me protection to keep him safe for you.” Smith was thoroughly enjoying turned the tables on Vic—it was high time someone knocked him down a peg or two. He sat back and folded his arms and smirked with such arrogance, Vic would have done anything to wipe off his face if he could.

Vic kneaded his temple where a headache was starting to grow. Smith was right—one wrong move on his part and Simon was done for. No matter what it cost, Vic knew he couldn’t let that happen. He’d taught his little brother to ride a bike and for the boy’s first day of school, Vic got up hours early to make sure Simon was fed, clean and dressed. Hell, he’d even taught him to stand up when taking a piss—their drunken slut of a mother had been too busy fucking some loser in her bedroom to pay any attention to her growing needs of her boys.

I wish I’d never let him follow me around as much as he did when we were kids, Vic thought. But prowling the streets at 2 a.m. with his kid brother in tow was often safer than leaving him at home at the mercy of their mother. When she couldn’t find the money to buy a bottle or some pills, she’d beat Simon with whatever was handy; a studded leather belt was her favourite weapon.

When Simon reached his teenage years and could hold his own against her, she fought back in the only way in which he had no defence whatsoever. She took him into her bed and became his lover, taking his virginity as she did so. The night that Vic found them together was the last of her life. Vic remembered that she had been on top, and she was moaning wantonly like the whore she was as she straddled her youngest son. He clasped her hips in his large hands and thrust into her. Vic had thrown his mother to the floor and punched her until she was too badly beaten to fight back. As she lay on the floor and begged for mercy, he’d forced her to give him a blowjob and as he came, filling her filthy mouth with his seed, he squeezed her throat until she was dead.

He did not blame Simon in the least for succumbing to her depraved demands; like all women, she’d used her feminine wiles to get what she wanted, using the charms of her body on her youngest child who was between the awkward stage of leaving his childhood years behind and dealing with the overwhelming sexual demands of his burgeoning manhood.

From the moment Vic was imprisoned, Simon had been shuffled from foster home to foster home until his eighteenth birthday. It was only a short time later that he tried to emulate and surpass his older brother in the ways and means of crime. Now at last, he had succeeded and ended up in a place that thoroughly deserved its reputation of being the worst of the worst correctional facility. Goddamn it! Vic shook his head and met the triumphant gaze of Smith.

“How much?”

Smith sat back and pondered how much he could get out of Vic on Brian’s behalf. “Two hundred. A week.” That should give the kid some pocket money. When Brian had told him that he planned to sell himself in this hellhole, Smith knew he couldn’t let that happen. He’d come to love the boy almost like a son and like any parent, would do anything to keep him safe.

“Two fucking hundred dollars a week? Are you fucking crazy?”

“Make it three hundred.”

“That’s half my goddamn income!” There were scores of guys who’d paid him money just to be left in peace; he’d made quite a wad for himself during his time here. He’d counted on having the thousands of bucks he’d earned for his own use when he got out, but the old man was right—Smith had an iron grip on his balls and they both knew it.

“Four hundred. Every time you open your goddamn mouth to me, add another hundred to that.”

Vic shut his mouth so hard, his teeth clicked together. He hated being indebted to this dying oldster but he’d do whatever it took to keep his brother safe. The thought of Simon becoming some brute’s bottom was too terrible to think about. “How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

“You can use a telephone and check up on him yourself, can’t you? From where I am sitting, you’ve got no choice.”

“Ain’t that the truth. You got a deal.”

“I knew you’d see things my way,” Smith said, slowly getting to his feet. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I got a phone call to make.”

All in all, the day had turned out well—Vic hadn’t baulked too badly at the lowest price Smith had named, proving his point that there was at least one person in the world Vic cared about. Now Brian wouldn’t have to sell himself in this place. He’d be left in peace and get some cash to start a new life once he’d finished with Granger.

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Vic lit another joint as he watched Smith get up and shuffle out of the room. He sighed angrily as the guard that had been watching them strolled over to where he still sat, his greedy hand already reaching for his share of the stash.

Vic snarled and placed two joints in the guard’s hand. “Get the fuck away from me; I’ve got enough shit to deal with,” he snapped. The guard pocketed the contraband and shrugged, walking back to his seat. As Vic reflected on what Smith’s visit, a memory came back to him that was a nice change of pace from the last half hour...

“Oh god, don’t do this!” Brian shouted, trying his best to break free of the strong hands that pinned him down on the pile of soiled laundry but it was useless. It was in the most remote corner of the laundry room and Vic had used it more than once for pleasurable diversions from the monotonous tedium of life in a maximum security penitentiary.

“You ain’t in any position to demand anything. Now be a good bottom and take it like a man.”

“No! NO! Ahh!” Brian sobbed. “Please—I'll do anything you want…”

“You already are,” the man on top of him grunted. He tightened his grip on Brian’s hips and thrust into the tight, resisting flesh, not hearing the screams. He groaned in pleasure. There was nothing he liked more than breaking in the newbies that came his way, and Brian with his delicate features and not-completely-broken-in-ass was a dream came true. However, the kid’s sobs and screams were starting to get in the way of a pleasurable mid-afternoon fuck. Even here, the noises were getting loud enough to possibly attract unwanted attention if left unchecked.

“Shut him up, I don’t care how!” he snapped. “Hurry up before someone comes!”

His attendant posse knew the perfect way to muffle from crying out too loudly—they had done it so many times before to their leader’s conquests, it was second nature. Like any pack of wolves, those farther down in seniority, waited their turn until he, the alpha male, was done. Then and only then, would they be allowed to satisfy their own hunger. I’ve trained them well, he thought smugly. They know their place.

Vic looked up and smirked as he saw his first lieutenant kneel down in front of the struggling boy. He reached into his pants, stroking himself. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t completely erect: the boy’s mouth would take care of that soon enough.

“Open wide,” he sneered.

In less than a minute, his now-hard cock was buried deep in the boy’s throat and the screams were silenced …

Vic shook his head to clear it and the pleasant memories evaporated as easily as the smoke that trailed from his joint. Even though it was going to cost him four C-notes a week to keep Brian safe, it didn’t matter--all that was important was that Simon not suffer the same thing. As much as he hated it, there was nothing he could do; unlike Smith, Vic had no connections or friends inside Statesville Penitentiary that could protect his brother when he was the most vulnerable.