Becca XXX - Hard Time Ch. 01

"The guards?"

"We call them screws, but yeah, those two fuckers that brought you here. Did they molest you?"

"I've had worse."

"Really? They don't come much worse than those pair," she said. "You must have been through some bad shit if you think they're tame."

"You don't know the half of it."

I was being truthful. I'd been abused and raped more times than I could remember. Jarvis and Reid were nothing compared to some of my previous assailants.

The last drops dribbled from my tired pussy lips and I stood up to wipe myself. I could have stayed seated, but I wanted to see what Naomi's reaction was towards me. You can gauge a lot about a person from how they act when you're in an intimate moment. She had a quick peek at my undercarriage, but she didn't react. I think she was just curious rather than interested in me.

"Did they do the same to you when you arrived?" I asked, pulling my knickers and trousers back up.

"It's hard to say. I don't know what they did to you," she replied.

"They gave me a cavity search... if you can call it that. Having fingers shoved into my ass and pussy and then having my G-Spot and clit rubbed, didn't seem like standard procedure," I sighed.

"Did they force you to cum?" she asked.

"Yeah. Then they made me reciprocate. They said it was the least I could do."

"They play mind games like that all the time with the newbies."

"Did Reid piss all over you?"

"What? No. What the fuck made her do that?" she seemed shocked.

"I think I may have upstaged her in front of her girlfriend," I laughed. "Jarvis said that no one had ever made her cum so hard. I think Reid got jealous."

"Fucking dirty bitches," Naomi hissed. "They're getting worse."

"How do they even get away with it? Doesn't anyone ever report it?"

"Of course they do. Everyone reports it, but nothing ever happens to them. It's a waste of time. The problem is, there's a shortage of screws. No one wants to be locked up in here looking after criminals, so they can act like they're above the law."

"That doesn't give them the right to sexually abuse people," I pointed out.

"I'm not saying it does, but you have to look at it from their point of view. The general public don't give a fuck about us. We're just scum to them. They just think we deserve everything we get. We committed a crime so it's tough shit. They think that the screws are doing the world a favour by abusing us. That's how they get away with it."

"I don't think like that," I said.

"That's because you're one of us."

"I'm on remand," I replied. "I'm accused of a crime; I've not been found guilty of one."

"It doesn't matter. No one out there will care what happens to you. And no one in here will think you're innocent. You wouldn't be in here if you were."

"Thanks a lot," I gasped. "What ever happened to innocent until proven guilty?"

"You must have led a sheltered life if you think that's how it works," she replied.

Her voice was calm and soothing, she was merely giving me her opinion rather than preaching to me.

"So, these screws can just do what they like to people with no repercussions?"

"I'm afraid so," she agreed. "Just keep your head down and do your time. That's my advice."

"What about the governor or warden or whatever he's called. Doesn't he care about prisoner welfare? Surely he has to fill in a report or something?"

"He's as bad as the fucking screws, Becca. The whole system's corrupt and twisted."

"Are all the screws in here as bad as those two?" I asked, feeling utterly depressed about the whole thing.

"Not all of them. Some are ok if you know how to work them. There's as many male guards in here as there are female. You'll get to know who you can use to your own advantage and who to steer clear of. But, generally speaking, we've committed a crime so we have no rights and they can do what they like to us," she said it like it was nothing.

"Great," I replied sarcastically.

I kicked my plimsoles off and laid them neatly next to Naomi's. I was a newcomer to her abode and I wanted to show her that I respected that. I didn't know how long she'd been in here or where she sat in the hierarchy with the other prisoners, so I was humble and polite; like a house guest.

"Where can I put my stuff?" I asked.

"The bottom locker's mine. You can use the top one. I've only been in here on my own for a week so I've not used any of your space."

"My space?" I said in a surprised voice.

"I'm an inmate the same as you. This place is no more mine than it is yours. In fact, it's neither of ours; it's theirs," she nodded at the door. "My last cell mate killed herself a week ago and I've been on my own ever since. They soon found a replacement and you're it. The prison system is so overcrowded that no one has a cell to themselves for long."

I wanted to ask this girl a thousand and one questions, but I was tired and I knew that she wanted to go back to sleep. I quickly shoved my spare clothes and wash things into the locker and closed the door.

"Turn the light out when you're done," she said, pulling her bed covers up and closing her eyes. "I'll give you a tour of A Wing in the morning."

"Ok. And thank you," I said with a lot of sincerity in my voice.

"Thank you for what?"

"For being nice to me," I replied.

"Get some sleep. You're going to need it," she said.

I stripped off my trousers, sweater and socks and flicked the light off. I then climbed up the metal ladder to my bunk. The mattress was rock hard and I could feel the squeak of a rubber liner underneath my thin bed sheet. This was far from the lifestyle I'd been used to, but I was trained to withstand hostile environments. I'd stayed in enough shit holes and dealt with enough criminals to be able to hold my own in here, but it didn't make me feel any better about my situation.

I'd gone from being at the top of my game as a seductress to being nothing more than another crime statistic in one of the most notorious prisons in the country. I'd heard about this place on the news and I wasn't looking forward to the next few days. I knew there was a strong gang culture in Bronzefield and that I'd be in for a testing time as the other inmates weighed me up. They would either want to recruit me, befriend me or bully me. None of that really mattered to me; I really had been through worse.

What did bother me was how I'd come to be in here, lying on a hard mattress in a dark cell with my freedom taken away. I knew in my heart of hearts that I didn't deserve to be in here, but I wasn't going to allow myself to wallow in self pity. Feeling a little sorry for myself was fine, but I needed to channel that emotion into getting myself out of here.

I was going to leave this place, either legally; with the help of a solicitor or illegally by escaping.

I didn't mind which option I took, I just needed one thing.

I needed a plan.