Funny how these big, tough cons think they can hide their shame. Saw Jackson in the showers today—the way he tried to keep his back to me, pretending not to watch my cock while I soaped up. But I saw his eyes. And more importantly, I saw his prick. Little traitor couldn't stay soft with me around.

That's the thing about prison. Everyone thinks it's about muscles and violence. But the real power? It's knowing exactly who gets hard when you bend over. It's having a mental library of every erection you've caused, every desperate glance, every time a man nearly choked on his own spit because you licked your lips.

Jackson thinks he's hiding it. Thinks his secret hard-on for my ass makes him weak. Poor thing doesn't realize yet that his shame is my favorite toy. I'll let him sweat for a few more days. Let him jack off thinking about me. Then when he's nice and desperate, I'll make sure the whole block knows how badly he wants me to ride his dick.

The best part? He'll thank me for it. They always do.