Custody Control: Verbal Warning

Danny Lomax thought a night in the cell was the worst of it. Then the door rattles and Officer Clayboss walks in for a "routine inspection", and the routine is about to get very unprofessional. One look is all it takes. Danny's on his knees before he can protest, and the officer's heavy boots are being unlaced right in front of his face. Clayboss doesn't ask. He orders. And in this cell, the badge makes the rules. The boots come off and the smell hits. A full shift on the job, sealed up in thick black socks, damp and dark with sweat. Clayboss presses them straight to Danny's face and makes him take it. Every breath, every inhale, while he stands over him enjoying every second of an inmate who can't escape. Then the socks come off. Bare feet, warm and used after hours on the beat, planted right in front of a prisoner with nowhere to go. Danny's put to work: soles, toes, every inch between, with his tongue and his mouth, exactly how the officer wants it and exactly how long he wants it. Because in this cell, the verbal warning is just the start. The real sentence is worship. Custody authority. Damp black socks. Bare feet and a bad lad who learns his place on the cold cell floor.