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“There are two jobs for women inside the prison- whores or wives. What you see there, those are the whores. Most men can’t afford to support a wife. Only the strongest have the ability to provide for two people on a daily basis. If you are very pretty, and very lucky, one of those men might decide to take you as his wife- then you only have to service one man’s lust. The women you see out there aren’t so lucky. In order to keep their bellies full, they have to sell themselves for a few credits at a time to many men a day. Keeps them out of the mines, but it's a hard life nonetheless.”

Jesse’s fingers curled on the window sill. “What makes someone a woman?”

The doc shrugged, “Your body, the same thing as outside. If you are small and pretty, you’re a woman. The opening is just different. Mostly, the other men decide. When they see a face they like, they usually just take what they want. But even if they didn’t, it's quite simple really- those who aren’t strong enough to mine for coal have to find a way to feed themselves. Someone like you for example, you probably won’t be able to even lift a fifty pound bucket of coal, much less drag out ten of them- enough to buy yourself a good meal. Now maybe if food were plenty and you could eat as much as you wanted, over time you would gain the strength, but that’s not how it works here. If you don’t mine enough coal, you don’t eat. If you don’t eat, you get weaker and you produce even less. It’s a vicious cycle and ends with you spreading your legs for the crust off someone’s bread. It ends with you grateful for a shot of cum in your belly. Starvation has a way of breaking even the strongest man’s pride.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that Jesse had no doubt he’d seen it happen many, many times.

“So you understand what I mean when I say you are lucky?”

Mute, Jesse shook his head.

“El Toro, he wants you, and he doesn’t share. He’s too smart for that. He’s seen one cunt spread dick-rot over a hundred men. Don’t think I’ve ever seen him use a whore. If he takes you, he’ll make you his wife and he won’t let anybody else touch you.”

The small blond curled in on himself and muttered, “I’m a man.”

A sharp peal of laughter deflated him even further, “Most of the miners out there could snap you like a twig, what do you weigh? A hundred pounds soaking wet? And with a face like that? Don’t make me laugh. It aggravates the arthritis. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll go to Bull on your knees and beg to be his woman. You’d be the envy of every whore in here. There’s no better provider. He’s strong as an ox, hauls out two ton cars of coal a day without breaking a sweat- one before lunch and one before dinner. He lives like a King in a house with real running water and a fireplace. He’s allowed his own stock of coal to keep his house warm in the winter. You’ll live like a princess and the only thing you’ll be expected to do is lay on your back and spread your legs when he asks. He doesn’t drink. He probably won’t even beat you. Hell, I’d take your place if I weren’t so old and ugly, but this little clinic is the best I can do.”

“That’s how come you don’t have to mine for coal?” Jesse asked. He was eager to change the subject.

“I mined plenty of tons of coal in my day, but when my back gave out I had to find another way. Bull was the one who helped me set this clinic up. I got a contact on the outside who helps get me supplies and the prison guards look the other way cause dead prisoners mean more paperwork. So, you get sick, you break a bone, you come see old Doc and I’ll fix you up- if you got the credits to pay for it.”

“That’s cold-hearted.”

He scowled, “I need to eat same as you. You wouldn’t go up to a blacksmith or a carpenter and expect him to lend you his skills for free, why would a doctor be any different? Maybe out in the real world where you got churches and charities to help foot the bill, but not here. You can’t wish people well. I gotta pay for medicine and supplies and keep a roof over my head and food in my belly same as anybody. Ain’t nobody getting fixed up without paying me first. Now you shut up about things you don’t understand and go get some rest. You’re gonna need it. I was only paid to keep you safe for the day. Come nightfall, you’re on your own.”

Jesse shuffled back over to the sagging little cot. His belly felt like it was trying to turn itself inside out and he was still terribly thirsty. “Do you have anything to eat?” he asked quietly, already knowing what the answer would be.

“Yes, but not for you. Bull didn’t pay me to feed you, just patch you up. You want something to eat, you best go to him, I ‘spect he did that on purpose so you’d have to. There’s water in the pot on the stove though, and you can have as much of that as you like. Ain’t that generous of me?” the doc said with a sneer and walked away.

The water was clean and fresh. It soothed his thirst and quieted his stomach enough that he was able to lay down. His body was grateful for the rest, but his mind was whirring, reliving the past few days and trying to work out a path forward. He couldn’t see one. He distracted himself by watching the doctor work on some sort of leg brace.

He voiced his question before thinking it through, “How did you end up here?”

The doc didn’t even look up, “There aren’t many rules here, but you just managed to break one of the biggest. Don’t ever ask a man why he’s here. Doesn’t matter what you did-”

“But I didn’t do any-”

The older man’s eyes flashed through his round-rimmed glasses, “Then it's even more important you don’t tell anyone. Saying you’re innocent only makes you look weaker. Doesn’t matter what any of us did, all that matters is we’re here and there’s nothing that will ever change that. Getting a man thinking about the life he had outside, that can get you killed. You’re better off just forgetting you ever had another life for as much as that matters here, understand me?”

“Yes,” Jesse said softly. The hardness in the other man’s voice was enough to make his body curl up in itself, but it did nothing to stop his mind from continuing to flail helplessly, like a fish on a hook being reeled inexorably to its fate.

Chapter 3

Toran did not mind the dark. He had spent most of his life in the dark and felt utterly at home there. He wore a headlamp on his helmet, but there were many times it had gone out and that did not phase him. He had helped dig most of the shafts in that mine and he knew them like the back of his hand. His body had been mining for so long that it went through the motions with very little input from his brain.

The light did help him aim his pickaxe. His eyes searched out the strategic weak points in the wall that would send the highest yield of coal tumbling down into the trough below. He emptied it into the minecar, then filled it again. With a great heave of his broad back and enormous biceps, he brought the tip of the axe crashing down into a large cluster of coal. He pulled it back with one clean jerk and then with another great heave of broad shoulders and corded muscles, he swung the axe down again.

After two decades, every day the same, his enormous body moved like a machine. His mind was elsewhere. He was thinking about his little bird and how small and fragile he’d felt in his arms. As he’d carried him to the doctor, he had gotten to hold him and see him up close. He was far more beautiful than Toran had realized. His face was as delicate as his tiny body. He had long dark lashes, a dainty button nose and plump, full lips that would have tempted a saint. Lifting one lip, Toran had inspected his teeth and found them to be white and strong and straight, no sign of disease. Even his breath smelled sweet. He was young and healthy. Toran planned for him to stay that way for a very long time.

The blackness of the mine shaft was no place for one so small and so beautiful. His little china doll deserved a safe place on a high shelf...or tucked in Toran’s bed, as it were, but most importantly, out of reach of all the others.

His wife. Finally. There had been others that had piqued his interest, but none quite like this one. Never had he seen one so beautiful and so strong of will. The others had spread their legs out of fear or greed for the first man who had approached them; whores all of them. Not his little bird, his little angel. No, he was pure. No whore would have fought so hard to remain intact. The beautiful warrior virgin would be his.

But too much force, too fast, will break even an iron will. Toran would not see his precious shattered like the others. He would take his time, coax him. In the end, it would be his little bird’s choice to be his. Once he fully understood his situation, Toran felt certain he would come right to his hand, eager for his protection. The doc would help him to understand. He was a wise man, an educated man, who had a way with words. Toran did not. He was a man of very few words. He was a self-taught man whose only knowledge of the outside world was gleaned from the precious collection of books he had bartered for over the years. The doc would help the boy understand far quicker than Toran ever could.

By the time the five-o'clock whistle blew, the coal car was packed full. Its tremendous weight was hardly noticed as he chained the car to his belt and pulled it forward, up out of the mine with his massive thighs. His heart felt light, for he felt certain the beautiful blond would be waiting for him in the doc’s cabin. Now he would understand how fortunate he was to have caught Toran’s eye. He would tearfully beg Toran to take him as his own and to protect him from the all the men who would break his nubile young body. Toran would treasure it.

He imagined taking him for the first time. He imagined forcing him to bare his body- how he would make the tiny and pure and innocent boy submit. His hole would be virginally tight. The first time would be frightening, but Toran knew how to make it pleasurable. Afterwards he would hold him in his arms and dry his tears. It would get easier with time. Toran imagined coming home each day after working hard in the mine to his little bird who would be waiting for him in his house. Once conquered, the little spitfire would eat from his hand and be totally dependent on him for every need and so grateful to him for all the nice things he provided. His wife. His.