Domesticating the Güicho 5

As expected, Güicho didn't change a thing.

"The bosses told me to go to the pawnshop to see how much we need to pay to get back what you pawned," I told my cousin the next day. He walked around the room naked with a cynical smile on his face and scars on his back.

"Cousin, relax, I'll take care of it, don't worry. I promise to return everything in a week," he said. I didn't believe him, but I thought maybe he was friends with the pawnshop owner and could work out a deal, so I let it go.

I spent my time taking care of him, checking his things, and secretly supervising his movements. That's how I found out that all those who used him sexually before his thefts were discovered had called him back: Don Edgar, Don Felipe, Don Mauro, Don Valentín, even the damn university guys who beat us called him three times a week to suck them off.

Five days have passed since our punishment. It's Sunday, and Don Valentín asks us to go to his office in the city center to paint the walls. This type of work represents extra income that I consider very necessary to pay off all the debts we owe to the tenants.

I forced Güicho to come with me to do the job. He reluctantly agreed. Don Valentín drove us in his car, dressed in a football uniform, and explained that he would leave us painting and go play, and that's what he did.

After properly covering all the furniture with large plastics to avoid staining, we started painting the walls. I don't know how, but the conversation turned to his years in prison.

"Cousin," he said excitedly during the conversation, "you met me when we were in the village, I was a real bastard, I screwed all the old ladies. I think I even screwed your girlfriend and Juanito's girlfriend." I turned to look at him with hatred.

"Yeah, bastard," I said, "you didn't screw just one, you screwed two of my girlfriends." I kept painting without looking at Güicho's reaction.

"Since I arrived at prison, I tried to make friends, but no one wanted me and they all told me to fuck off. They didn't speak to me, it was shit... the first evening I was in the bathrooms and suddenly the room emptied in seconds, and some white guys came in to beat the crap out of me... and every day was the same, the few guys who spoke to me warned me that if I complained, they would hit me even worse.

"Bastard, they beat me every day, once they even entered my cell and my white roommate was the biggest asshole of all.

"Since I was threatened that if I said anything, it would get worse, I ended up agreeing that it was a fight I had provoked, and they sent me to isolation for several days... It was a real hell.

"One day, a young black kid approached me, with very fine features and slightly effeminate. I had to hold back from hitting him when he suggested that if I accepted being the bitch of one of the prison leaders, he could protect me.

"The beatings continued. On...