The sheriff suspected the other cops watching from the control room were laughing right along with him. They were all enthusiastic about participating in these special projects, but they completely missed the point. They didn't understand how it was really for the boy's own good, that it was a lesson, a harsh one to be sure, but something that might ultimately save the kid's life. It wasn't supposed to be cruelty for its own sake. It wasn't supposed to be something to get off on.

But they did get off on it, the Sheriff realized. Oh, they thought he didn't know what they did in the control room while they were supposed to be monitoring the events for safety reasons. But how could he not know when the place stank of spunk the next morning? He imagined them sitting around in there, exchanging obscene jokes about these poor kids and what they were going through, while they wanked themselves off beneath the desk.

He supposed he should have expected it. As far as they were concerned, any snot-nosed college brat who sold drugs in their town got exactly what was coming to him. None of them had ever managed to make it any further away from home than the community college up the road, and there was a certain bitterness in them because of it. Without a four-year degree, they would never advance beyond local law enforcement, with its complete lack of glamor and its nothing pay.

It didn't escape them that most of these college kids would make more just starting out in their first jobs than they'd manage to pull down in their best year. So they enjoyed nothing more than seeing one of these college boys bawling for his mamma as he was forced to take it up the ass by every con in the place.

The sheriff himself could never understand finding gratification in someone else's suffering . He felt nothing but the most wrenching grief whenever he watched a boy, helpless and terrified, being repeatedly raped. But spare the rod, quite literally sometimes, and you spoiled the child. He'd already discovered that the hard way. He wasn't going to fail any more of his sons the way he had failed Scott.

Donny threw his head back and howled as he finished in Jason's ass. He pulled out, and semen drooled out of the boy's butt. A moment later, the con fucking his mouth came, pulling hard on his ears, mashing his face into his sticky groin. When he finally finished pumping his spunk down Jason's throat, he let him go. Jason scooted away, white fluid trickling from the corner of his mouth and dripping down his chin. His eyes were red and swollen from crying. He huddled on the floor, his arms wrapped around himself, his back heaving.

But he wasn't left there in peace for very long. A moment or two later, he was hauled up and passed onto the next two men, who quickly put him to use.

The sheriff felt a primal ache, deep down in his gut, the way a father always did when he saw a child in pain. Of course, the first impulse was to make that pain go away, but sometimes, you just couldn't give in to your instincts. You had to let them experience the consequences of their own actions, take their hard knocks. If you didn't, they wouldn't grow up to be a man you could respect. Hell, they might not get the chance to grow up at all.

At least, he could be here with this boy during his time of suffering. At least, this child wasn't all alone. There was some comfort in knowing that.

It had been different with Scott. When he'd gotten the call at three o'clock in the morning, he had thrown on his clothes, rushed to his truck and driven all night, keeping the accelerator on the floor the whole time. The sun was just coming up as he screeched into the hospital parking lot.

But he was too late.

The hospital staff did let him see his boy. He was still lying on the trauma room table where he'd died, a white sheet covering his body. Somebody had been humane enough to close his eyes, so he wouldn't have to look into that terrible emptiness. A nurse brought him a chair, so he could sit with Scott. He'd stayed there-- he didn't even know how long, just clutching his boy's hand. Even though there really was no point to it. He couldn't offer his son any comfort. He couldn't teach him anything now. He sure as hell couldn't bring him back.

When the initial shock and grief lifted enough for his cop's brain to start functioning again, he started asking questions. How? Why? Scott's friends were hesitant at first, but eventually, they came clean with him. They'd all gone to a fraternity party. They weren't even brothers in the house. It was an open party, and they didn't have anything better to do. When they got there, everyone was doing acid, passing around these stickers, little colored dots, that had the drug on it. Scott and his friends didn't normally do drugs, but they couldn't see how it could hurt anything, not if everyone else was doing it.

That part of the story made the sheriff cringe whenever he thought about it. If he had been a better, stricter father, Scott would have known quite well the damage drugs could do. He would have been too afraid of the repercussions to have foolishly followed along with his friends.

But he hadn't been the right kind of father, and his boy had taken the hit of acid. By the time his friends realized that Scott wasn't just having a bad trip, that he was actually in trouble, it was already too late. They called 911, and the ambulance came and rushed him to the hospital. But Scott never had a chance.

From that day on, the sheriff had vowed never to let that happen to another boy, to show them the consequences of their actions before it was too late, in a way that would really change them, really help them make better decisions. It was a brutal lesson he taught them, but it was a hell of a lot better than ending up like Scott.

"Hey, boy, you don't think you're done, do you?" one of the cons who hadn't yet taken his turn asked Jason.

The boy lay in a heap on the floor where his last rapists had discarded him. He whimpered pitifully. The inmates all laughed.

"Lord, no," the con said. " 'Cause I haven't had my go at your pussy yet, and I'm feeling really horny after watching you fuck all these other guys. So shake that cute little ass of yours and get on over here."

The boy didn't move. He just kept making forlorn little noises of distress.

The con barked, "Now!"

Jason jolted with alarm.

"Or do I have to come over there and start getting rough?" the con asked, menacingly.

The boy cried. There were tremors in his arms and legs, from shock and pain. He was too tired to stand. But there was a look in his eyes that the sheriff recognized: total defeat. The boy didn't bother calling out for help anymore. He knew by now that no one was coming. He realized that he was going to be raped until they got tired of him, that if he didn't do exactly what they wanted they might very well do even more unspeakable things to him. So, he pulled himself up to his hands and knees and started to crawl over to the man.

"Oh, yeah, baby," the con said. "You look so good like that. So sexy."

The boy sobbed harder, but he kept going.

When Jason reached him, the con said, "Now, as much as I like having you down on your knees like that, I'm going to need you to stand up for what I have in mind."

The boy braced his arms on the bench and struggled to pull himself up. But he was just too weak, and he couldn't manage it. The con grew impatient and yanked him up, onto his feet.

"Now turn around," he instructed the boy.

Jason did as he said.

"Spread your legs wide. And back up a little."

He put his hands on the boy's waist and guided him until he was straddling his lap.

"Okay, boy. Now sit down on my dick."

Jason's lip trembled as he slowly began to lower his body. He groaned pitifully as he impaled himself on his rapist's ample erection.

"Oh, yeah, boy. Take that dick. Take it deep."

Jason continued to lower himself, whimpering in pain, until he was all the way seated on the con's lap.

"God, that feels good," the con moaned. "Your pussy's still tight after all the dicking it's taken. That's nice, boy. Real, real nice. Now, start moving and make me feel even better."

"What?" Jason asked, the first word he'd spoken since he stopped calling for help.

"Start fucking yourself on my cock. You don't expect me to do all the work, do you?"

"Please," the boy begged.

The con squeezed his balls. "Do I need to teach you a lesson?"

"No!" Jason quickly gave in. "I'll do it. Please. Don't hurt me."

"That's a good boy. Now go to it."

The boy shakily lifted himself up, his thighs trembling, and gingerly lowered himself down again.

"Don't piss me off with that halfway shit," the con warned him. "I told you to fuck yourself on my cock. And I meant it. Now fuck!"

The kid sobbed as he moved up and down again, more forcefully this time.

"That's better. Keep going."

The kid settled into a regular rhythm, his cock still erect, bobbing out in front of him as he moved.

"Oh, yeah, baby," the con whispered hotly in the boy's ear. "That's so damned good. And you know what? I think you like it, too. Or you wouldn't still have this." He wrapped his hand around the kid's erection.

Jason sucked in his breath.

The con laughed. "That's just what I thought." He started to move his hand on the kid's dick. "Why shouldn't you get off, too?"

Jason moaned, and for the first time, it sounded like pleasure.

The con kissed his neck. "I could make it even better for you. Would you like that?"

The boy's face twisted with guilt, but his eyes were shining and needy.

"You have to tell me," the con coaxed.

"Please," the boy begged.

"What, baby? You have to say it."

Finally, Jason whispered, "Make it good. Please."

"Oh, yeah, baby. Yeah." He took Jason's hips in his hands and changed their angle slightly.

"Aaaaagh!" Jason hollered, as he sat down on the guy's cock.

The con laughed. "Meet your prostate, kid. That's your little fuck button tucked up deep inside your pussy. Like a hidden boy clit. Feels good, don't it?"

Jason grunted as he began fucking himself more vigorously on the man's cock, working his prostate with every stroke, his face intent with surprised pleasure.

The con kissed and sucked his neck, as he fisted his cock. "God, yeah, baby. Go for it," he encouraged. "Fuck that cock. Fuck it good, sweetheart."

Jason closed his eyes in ecstasy, licking his lips. The other cons watched him lustfully, working their own dicks, even the ones who had already had their turn with him.

The man fucking him said, "You're so pretty, baby. So fucking pretty." He kissed him passionately on the shoulder, leaving a mark. "Such sweet little titties." He rubbed the boy's nipples and played with his piercing.

Jason gasped, despite himself.

The con smiled. "Feels good, huh?" He tugged the ring again, and Jason moaned out loud. "Oh, yeah. Sensitive little titties. I like that."

The boy moved with increasing speed, fucking himself more urgently, down onto the other man's cock and up into his hand. The con panted heavily, getting close to orgasm. He jerked the boy's dick harder and played with his balls. The kid moaned, also on the verge of coming. The con bit down hard on his neck.

"Aaaagh!" Jason yelled, in both pleasure and disgust, as he came in his rapist's hand.

This sent the con tumbling over the edge. His face twisted into a grimace as he climaxed, filling the boy's rectum with his semen.

When he finished, he slumped back against the wall. The boy slid off his lap and sank to the floor. Tears streamed down his face, and his shoulders shook. The sheriff's throat closed up as he watched. This almost always happened. Bodies were programmed to respond to stimulation, and there was typically at least one inmate who got off on exploiting that particular biological fact to humiliate the victim. The boys always took this part of the experience the hardest.

"Hey! I ain't had my turn yet," Kenny said, belligerently. "Ya'll don't wear that pussy out before I get me some of it."

"All right. All right, Kenny," JoJo told him. "Don't get worked up. He's all yours now."

"Yes!" Kenny said. And then he turned to Jason. "Get ready, pussy. I'm really hard after waiting so long, and I need a good, long fuck."

Jason let out a soft sound of misery.

Kenny poked at him with his foot. "Get your face down on the floor. Stick that pussy up in the air."

Jason continued to sob as he assumed the degrading position.

"Now spread your legs wide apart," Kenny said.

The boy did as he was told.

"Yeah. That's it." Kenny sank down behind him. "Take that, you little faggot." He shoved his dick viciously inside.

Jason howled in pain.

"Mmm," Kenny moaned. "That pussy's tight."

Jason cried as Kenny brutally fucked him. For a moment, the sheriff considered intervening. The point wasn't to leave the kid permanently damaged, just scared enough to keep out of trouble in the future. Before he could make up his mind, though, the decision was made for him. Kenny was a big talker, but he was still really just a kid, with the lack of staying power that went along with youth. It wasn't long before he threw his head back, howled and came.

He pulled out, and Jason collapsed to the floor. Kenny tucked his cock back into his pants and got to his feet.

"Pussy," he said, disdainfully.

He pulled his foot back and was about to kick the boy in the side when JoJo grabbed him by the arm and jerked him away.

"You had your turn," JoJo told him. "That's enough."

"He's a pussy. He deserves it," Kenny protested.

JoJo pointed a finger at him. "That's not for you to decide. I'm in charge here. And you never leave marks where the hacks can see. You'll get us all busted. And if that happens, we'll bust you. Got it?"

Kenny cut his eyes to the side, his expression sullen, but he nodded in agreement.

"Good. Now go find a spot to settle down for the night. It's time to get some sleep." JoJo turned to Jason. "You, too."

The rest of the inmates staked out places on the benches. Jason slowly crawled to the corner and huddled there on the floor.

"Hey, kid," JoJo said to him.

The boy cringed, pressing himself back against the wall, obviously terrified of being raped again.

JoJo threw him his pants. "Don't you even think about telling nobody what happened tonight."

Jason scrambled into his pants, his hands shaking. He pulled the drawstring so tightly it dug into his skin.

"'Cause I meant what I said before," JoJo told him. "You cross me, and you can kiss your balls good-bye. You got me?"

Jason nodded, his face a mask of misery, his knees pulled up tightly against his chest, his arms wrapped around his shoulders, his body clenched in a fetal position, his back against the wall so they couldn't sneak up on him.

"Good," JoJo said. "I'm glad we understand each other."

The cons eventually all quieted down for the night. Jason stayed plastered to the wall, wide awake, tears streaking down his cheeks, muffling his sobs with the back of his hand. There would be no sleep for him tonight.

The sheriff yawned. His eyes burned. He was getting way too old for these all-nighters. He started to doze off in his chair. He managed to rouse himself several times, before he finally decided to try to catch a little sleep. He knew if anything happened in the cellblock he would hear it and wake up in time to help his son.

The sheriff awoke to the sound of Saunders' voice. He had gone to the cell to get Jason. It was just after dawn.

"Come here, kid," Saunders said.

"Me?" Jason asked.

Saunders nodded. The boy scrambled to his feet and went to the cell door. Saunders unlocked it and let him out.

He handed him his clothes. "Here. The sheriff's decided to let you off with a warning since this is your first offense."

The boy looked stunned. "Really?"

"Yeah. I guess the old man's going soft in his old age."

Sheriff Williams shook his head. Saunders always said this. He thought it was the funniest little inside joke.

"I'll show you where you can get cleaned up," Saunders told the kid. "Then the sheriff wants to speak with you."

The kid clutched his clothes to his chest. "Oh, God. Thank you. Thank you so much."

"Thank the sheriff when you see him. This was his idea." He motioned the boy in front of him. "I'll show you to the bathroom."

When Saunders passed beneath the camera, he looked up and winked. The sheriff rolled his eyes. His chief deputy could be such a goofball sometimes.

The sheriff fixed a fresh pot of coffee, tidied his desk and waited for Jason to finish pulling himself together. Finally, Saunders knocked on the door and showed the boy inside.

Jason had dark circles under his eyes. He moved carefully, stiffly, his body obviously sore, which wasn't surprising. He sat down in the chair in front of the sheriff's desk. His hands shook, so he balled them into fists at his sides.

"Son, did Deputy Saunders inform you that I've decided to let you go?"

He nodded. "Yes, sir. Thank you."

His voice was respectful, even timid. He had clearly been chastened by the experience he'd undergone in the holding cell.

"I hope you made it through last night all right?"

The boy's lip trembled. But he nodded and said very softly, "Yes, sir."

"So you didn't have any problems?"

Jason shook his head, on the verge of tears.

"Well, that's good. I'm glad to hear it."

The boy clearly wasn't going to tell him what happened to him. The sheriff was sure his silence was due, in part, to the cons' threats. But he also suspected there was a part of the boy that believed he had brought it on himself. If he hadn't done something wrong, this never would have happened to him. And that was exactly what the sheriff wanted him to realize.

"You know why I decided to let you off?" he asked.

The boy shook his head.

"Because you remind me a little bit of my own son." He picked up the picture and showed it to Jason. "His name was Scott. He was the best thing that ever happened to me. Losing him was the worst. He's dead. Been dead for years."

"I'm sorry," the boy said softly.

"Me, too. He was a good boy. He just made one mistake. But it-- Well, sometimes one mistake is all it takes. You know what I mean?"

The boy looked stricken. "Yeah," he said, his voice sticking in his throat.

"All my kid did was go to a party. Just wanted to have some fun on a Saturday night. Nothing wrong with that, right? Only these other kids were all doing drugs. Passing the stuff out to everybody who came through the door, like it was some kind of party favor or something. And Scott-- well, he'd never even smoked marijuana before that. I don't know what got into him, what he thought he was doing. But he went right along with it. Did a hit. Only it didn't mix too well with his system. By the time he go to the ER, he had gone into convulsions. He was foaming at the mouth. His pulse was almost 200. Heart 'bout near exploded in his chest. There wasn't anything they could do for him."

Jason shivered. "That's awful."

"Yeah. It sure as hell was. And you know the scariest part? He never saw it coming. Sometimes, you just can't foresee where a bad choice is going to take you," the sheriff continued. "I mean, Scott just wanted to have a good time. I'm sure he never imagined what could happen to him when he decided to go out that night. I'm sure he never thought anything could go wrong when he took that drug. Never considered that he could lose his life and break his father's heart."

A tear streaked down Jason's cheek.

"You know how that is, don't you, Jason?"

The boy's mouth trembled.

"I'm sure you never imagined you'd get caught when you went out to sell drugs last night. Did you?"

He shook his head, a look of sheer misery on his face.

"I want you to answer me something honestly. What'd you want the money for?"

Jason swallowed hard. "My father was going to buy me a car. But I wanted an SUV. He wouldn't pay for it. He said if I really wanted one then I'd have to make the extra money myself. So I--" He broke off with a catch in his voice.

"You decided to take the easy way out. Not get an honest job. Just sell that crap to other kids and make a quick buck instead. I bet that's not what your father had in mind, was it?"

He shook his head. "No, sir."

"And look where it's led you. All the trouble it's gotten you into. You never once thought about the possibilities, did you?"

More tears fell. "No, sir."

"Never thought you'd get caught."

He shook his head.

"Never thought you'd get arrested. Or wind up in jail."

He looked down and shook his head.

"I bet you certainly never imagined spending the night in lockup getting your mouth and rectum violated by every con in the place. Did you?"

Jason's head snapped up, his eyes wide with shock. "How--" he stuttered.

"How do I know you're not a virgin to sex with men anymore after last night?"

Jason flushed with humiliation.

"Because that's just what happens to boys who get in over their heads and end up in jail where they don't belong. The mean motherfuckers who do belong there show them a thing or to about the real world of crime. I don't know a boy who's gone into that holding cell who's come out with his cherry still intact."

The kid's eyes flashed with a supreme sense of betrayal. They always looked like that when they figured out everybody had known what was happening to them and no one had come to save them. But that was the point. Up until now, the sheriff was certain somebody had always bailed Jason out. It had made him brazen enough to think he could go out and break the law and not have to answer for it. Just the way his letting Scott off the hook too easily had made him feel invincible enough to do something so fatally stupid as taking a drug he knew nothing about.

At least, now Jason knew better. He knew there were some consequences you had to face all by yourself. He knew you had to make careful choices or else you just might end up with more than you bargained for.

"So I guess those boys on the cellblock taught you an important lesson last night, huh, Jason?"

The kid cried harder, his nose starting to run.

"If you don't respect yourself, then nobody else is going to respect you, either," the sheriff told him. "You disrespected your body by hiding drugs in your ass. And that landed you in jail where your cellmates had the opportunity to show you the ultimate disrespect. I think that's one lesson you're not going to be forgetting any time soon, are you, Jason?"

"Oh, God," the boy sobbed.

"Because you have to know that you're different now, son. Just one little mistake, and it's left you changed forever. You realize you're not like other men any more, right? Normal men never have a cock shoved up their asses. They don't know what it feels like to have some other guy come inside them. But you do, don't you, Jason? You know all about that."

Jason's shoulders shook with his grief.

"You have a pussy between your legs now, boy. And it's gonna stay a pussy for as long as you live. Even if there's never another man who dicks you. All it takes is one fucking, and there's no going back. It won't matter how many women you make it with. You're always gonna know the truth. It'll just flash back to you sometimes. Like when you're having sex with your girlfriend, moving in and out of her pussy, and suddenly, bam! There it is, the cellblock, all those other men, the way their dicks moved in and out of you."

"No!" Jason shuddered.

"Oh, yes. You're never going to be free of it. And you're never going to be a real man again. And all because you were too greedy and too lazy to get a real job and earn the money you needed honestly. That's an awfully big price to pay, isn't it? To lose your manhood forever over something like that. I hope you'll remember that the next time you're tempted to do something stupid. And make the right decision instead."

"Please," the boy begged. "Stop."

The look on Jason's face was one of total devastation. The sheriff knew it well. There was a gnawing, painful place in his stomach knowing that he had caused it, on this boy's face and so man others. But sometimes, you just couldn't think of yourself. You had to do what was right, what was for their own good.

"You think this doesn't hurt me as much as it hurts you, Jason?" he asked. "You think I enjoy this? 'Cause I don't. Believe me. But I can't let you walk out of this station without seeing the error of your ways. I can't let you make the same mistake twice. Because sometimes you don't get a chance to do things over. God knows my kid didn't. So, I want you to tell me the truth. Are you ever going to sell drugs again?"

He shook his head vehemently. "No, sir."

"Or do drugs?"

"No, sir."

"Or break the law in any way?"

"No, sir."

"Is that the God's honest truth, Jason?"

"Yes, sir. I swear. I swear to God."

"Because that was just a taste of what happens to college boys who stupidly end up in prison. We have mandatory minimums for drug offenses in this state. You know what that means, son? It means you could get as many as five, ten, even twenty years for a first offense. That's years of being passed from con to con, having your mouth and ass fucked against your will, night after night after night. Is that something you'd enjoy, Jason?"

The boy's entire body shook. "No!"

"Well, then, you'd best make good use of this second chance I'm giving you. I don't want to see you around this police station again. And I don't want to hear of you getting into trouble over at the university. Or anywhere. Ever. You understand me?"

Jason nodded, tears streaming down his face. "Yes. I understand. I promise."

"Good. I'm real glad to hear that, Jason."

The boy sat sobbing, his arms wrapped around himself, his chest heaving.

The sheriff made his voice more gentle. "Someday, you'll see that this has all been for the best. I know that's hard to imagine right now. But who knows what would have happened to you if you hadn't learned this lesson?"

The boy didn't answer. He just kept crying.

"Well, I guess that's all, as long as we understand one another. You'd best be getting back to school. We don't want your grades to suffer."

"You mean I can go?" the boy asked, as if he couldn't imagine there ever being an end to this nightmare.

The sheriff nodded. "Sure. Go on. Saunders is waiting for you. He'll show you out."

The boy stood up, grimacing as he moved. The sheriff watched him walk out of his office. He heard Saunders out in the hall telling the kid to follow him. The sheriff went to stand by the window. From there, he had a perfect view of the exit.

A few moments later, Saunders and the kid materialized at the door. Saunders held it open, and Jason slipped past him. He walked down the sidewalk, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was going to come after him. When he saw Saunders go back inside, he started to run, a grimace on his face, his shoulders hunched, the set of his body belying his pain. But still he ran. The sheriff watched until he disappeared around a corner, and then he nodded to himself. He'd done a good job with this one. He felt certain that Jason would never forget this lesson, no matter how fast he ran or how far he went.

He sat back down at his desk and sighed. He still had the mountain of reports to go through, the disheartening evidence that the usual tactics weren't working on this scourge of drugs. He sometimes wished he could share his methods with his law enforcement brethren in other areas, but that would never be possible. They would never understand.

At least, he had the personal satisfaction of knowing that this one kid's life had been changed forever thanks to him.

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