Becca XXX - Hard Time Ch. 02

Author's note: - This is a follow on to the previous chapter of Becca XXX Hard Time. Please read it before reading this or you will not understand the plot or characters.

Becca XXX. Hard Time. Ch 02.

I woke up after my first night in prison to the sound of a girl panting below me. It was the rhythmic sound of heavy breathing. As I wiped the sleep from my eyes, I glanced over the edge of my bunk to see my cell-mate Naomi doing squats in the small space between the bed and the door.

The door was still locked and I had no idea what time it was. I didn't have a watch on and there was no clock in the room. She had stripped her T-shirt off and was exercising in her bra and panties. She must have been at it for some time because she was glistening in tiny beads of sweat. Her body was definitely a sight for sore eyes. She had her back to me and I could see her well defined deltoids and trapezius muscles on her shoulders as she dropped down into a low squat with her arms held out in front of her. Her lats looked like two slabs of meat and they gave her a triangular shape from her shoulders to her waist.

She didn't look like a body-builder - she had an athlete's body. Whether she'd always looked like this, I had no idea. She may have just gotten fit in prison. I didn't know how long she'd been banged up for. Her waist was tiny, but she had a good-sized booty on her. That too was firm and shapely under her moist underwear. The white fabric pulled tight up the crack of her ass each time she squatted down. Her thighs showed all four of her quadricep muscles and her calves looked like they were ready to burst. I could see the side of her boobs which jiggled each time she locked out with her legs.

She was gorgeous.

"What time is it?" I asked, not wanting to startle her.

"Seven," she said, not even bothering to slow down or turn around to see me.

She was in the zone and as soon as she finished her squats, she dropped down into a press up position and started bobbing up and down.

"What time do they let us out?"

"Eight," she puffed.

Her arm and shoulder muscles flexed with each press up, but she didn't waver from her routine.

I squished my thighs together as I sat up on the top bunk and I knew instantly that I was wet. It was nothing unusual; I always woke up wet, but I hoped it wasn't showing through my knickers because I didn't want Naomi to see. I was wearing identical clothing to her and my nipples were hard inside my flimsy, unflattering bra.

"Do we get breakfast?" I asked, already thinking that I was annoying her with all my questions.

"We get given breakfast packs with our dinner each night. I'll share mine with you when I'm done," she said, flipping over onto her back and bending her knees.

"Thank you," I replied. "I'll pay you back when I get mine."

I let out a quiet involuntary moan when I saw her body from the front. She'd tied her hair back into a big bushy pony tail to keep it off of her face while she worked out. Her bra was too small for her ample breasts which heaved and wobbled each time she did an abdominal crunch. Her abs looked like they were chiselled from stone and there wasn't an ounce of fat on her sexy body.

She started to grimace after fifty crunches and I couldn't tear my eyes away from her. My gaze shifted south to the gap between her legs where the thin white material almost glowed against her dark brown skin. The gusset was beyond wet and I wondered if it was from sweat or wetness from her juicy cooch. To say she had a cameltoe would have been an understatement. The see-through material left little to the imagination and it looked like she had a Twix stuffed down the front of her knickers.

Her outer labia were plump and fat with a deep cleft where the fabric had been pulled tight. I swear I could see her clit poking out too, but that may have just been wishful thinking. I could tell that she had no hair down there as there was no bulge of pubes showing through the fabric. If I wasn't wet before, I certainly was now. I felt my clit twitch at the thought of seeing her completely naked and I had to force my eyes away from her body before I said something I might regret.

Naomi let out a loud gasp as she finished her set and flopped down onto her back spreading her legs even wider, but keeping them bent.

"Fuck," she exclaimed. "Sorry if I woke you. I thought you were dead to the world. I've never known anyone sleep that well on their first night in a cell. They usually lie awake snivelling or shouting to be let out."

"Does it help them?" I laughed.

"No, but maybe it makes them feel better," she smiled.

She sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees and shuffling around until her back was to the wall.

"It's important to keep fit in here," she explained. "It keeps you sane if nothing else. Exercise releases endorphins and helps prevent depression. You should try it."

"I usually go for a morning run or to the gym," I pointed out.

"I thought you might. I can tell you're into your fitness, but running is pretty hard in a prison cell."

"Yeah, I suppose running ten feet to the door and back is going to get pretty boring," I giggled.

Naomi laughed too.

"I'm done exercising for now," she smiled. "I can move out of the way and you can use the space if you want."

She was right about needing to stay fit and sane. It mattered more than ever in a place like this. I jumped off the bed and felt my tits jiggle inside my bra as I landed. Naomi got up and moved over to the sink to fill a beaker with water. She downed it in one and refilled it as I started to perform lunges in the space at the side of the bed.

My muscles felt tight and lethargic from lack of use so I was happy to be breathing some life back into them. I often did bodyweight exercises when I was on an assignment and when I couldn't get to a gym. Running was my first choice as it usually gave me time to survey the area I was working in and look for escape routes or pinch points. It also cleared my head and made me feel better just as Naomi had explained.

"Keep your hips forward on those lunges or you'll pull your back," Naomi stated. "Your ass is sticking out too much."

I attempted to correct my posture, but deliberately made a bad job of it so that she'd offer to help me.

"You mean like this?" I asked.

"Fuck no. Here, let me help you."

She put her beaker on the sink and moved alongside me. She then placed one hand on my stomach, above my waistband and the other hand across my buttocks. She pushed with both hands to align my back and pelvis correctly.

"Suck your belly in and rotate your hips forwards," she said. "Hold that position throughout the whole movement."

I performed a lunge on each leg as she kept my posture correct with her soft hands. She seemed to be completely in her element and remained professional and focussed. I was a little disappointed that it didn't feel flirtatious or sexual, but this was still early days and she seemed to be more interested in helping me rather than fucking me. Not every girl I met in life was a lesbian or a bi-sexual, but I did have a way of turning them around.

"Much better," she said. "You're good, you just need a few tweaks."

"Cool. What are you? A fitness instructor or something?" I joked.

"I used to be," she replied, moving back to the sink and watching my form. "I was a gym instructor and a fitness model before I ended up in here."

"That explains your amazing body," I swooned. "I'd kill for abs like those."

"Are you kidding me? Yours are almost as well-defined. If I had to guess: I'd say that your exercise regime is good, but your diet could do with some improvement. It's usually the diet that lets people down."

"It's the wine," I laughed.

"Well, you'll have better abs after a few weeks in here I can assure you. The food's shit and the booze is almost non-existent."

"Almost?"

She paused for a moment as if she'd said too much, but then she continued anyway.

"You can pretty much get a hold of anything you want in prison if you know the right people," she laughed. "Come on, that's enough lunges. Let's see you squat that pert booty of yours."

My thighs were already beginning to burn from the lunges as I moved into a squat position. I stood in a wide stance with my hands level with my shoulders as though I was holding a bar-bell. I then stuck my ass out, keeping my back straight and lowering my butt to the floor. I didn't go too far down with it because I wanted her to correct me again. As I started to rise back up, she came towards me shaking her head.

"Drop lower, Becca. Really stick that ass out and try and get it to touch the floor," she said. "Like this."

She stood in front of me and demonstrated the most perfect squat I'd ever seen. Her buttocks practically kissed the floor as she dropped down. She then pushed back up thrusting her hips forwards.

"Now you try it," she instructed.

I mirrored her movements as we both dropped down at the same time, face to face. She was so close to me in the confined space that I could feel the heat emanating from her sexy body.

"Lower... lower... go lower," she encouraged me. "That's it... now rise back up, keep those hips pushed forwards... perfect... much better."

I did a full set of fifty as she continued to monitor me like a gym instructor. Once my set was finished, I shook my legs loose and she passed me a beaker of water.

"Stay hydrated," she said. "You don't want to get muscle cramps."

I downed the water and passed the beaker back to her as I got my breath back. I was feeling hot and clammy and it wasn't just from exertion. This girl turned me on from the way she looked and from the way she carried herself. She was extremely confident and it got me wondering how the hell she'd ended up in prison. She didn't seem like the violent type.

"You certainly know your stuff," I complimented her. "I'm guessing you've not been in here long, looking at how good your body still looks."

"I've been in a year," she said.

"No way," I gasped.

"Eight to go," she nodded, drinking more water.

"Oh shit. You got a nine-year stretch. I'm sorry to hear that," I replied.

"Don't be. I guess I deserve to be in here. I did a bad thing, but when I get out, there's no way I'm ever coming back. I should have walked away from the situation I found myself in instead of fighting back."

"Sometimes fighting is the only way," I argued.

"True, but you have to live with the consequences of letting it go too far. If you don't, you end up in here, like me."

I went silent for a moment wondering whether to ask her the most obvious question. I'd heard that the last thing you should ask someone in prison is what they were in for, but I was curious. I looked her in the eyes briefly and then looked away.

"You can ask me," she giggled. "I don't mind."

"I wasn't..."

"I can tell that you want to know. Everyone always wants to know why people are in here," she laughed. "Go ahead, ask me."

"What did you do to get locked up?"

"I killed someone," she replied. "I stabbed them, just once, but that was enough. I say it was self-defence, but the judge and jury disagreed... and now... here I am."

She held her arms out and shrugged as if it didn't bother her, but I knew that it did.

"Who did you stab?" I asked, trying to delve a little deeper.

"My boyfriend."

"Holy fuck. What happened?"

"I guess it's a typical story. A bit of a cliché really. He was fine when we first got together. He was always buying me stuff and pampering me," she had a sadness to her voice. "We moved in together, but then he lost his job and everything changed."

"Changed how?" I replied, listening intently.

"He became angry and bitter about it all. I was still working, doing modelling and gym work, but he said I was emasculating him because I was still earning money and he wasn't. I wanted him to get another job, but he hit the booze pretty hard and got in with the wrong crowd instead. I always knew his mates were assholes, but they just dragged him down even further. He'd spend his days drinking and getting riled up about it all and then he'd hit me if I said the slightest thing to undermine him."

"I hate men that beat up women," I spat.

"Me too, but somehow it felt different when it was happening to me. I knew he was a better person than that and I didn't want to leave him; I wanted to help him. He just got worse and worse and became paranoid about me modelling. He said I was just a whore, fucking other men for money, but he couldn't have been further from the truth. I was working two jobs just to keep the apartment we were renting," she explained.

"I'm so sorry," I cooed. "It sounds terrible."

"It was. He was a jealous mother fucker. If he so much as saw me talking to another guy, he'd beat me when I got home. Everything became my fault, him losing his job, his depression, the weather. He always made me suffer. I lost a few modelling jobs because of bruises or split lips that he'd inflicted on me. I just put up with it like some sort of idiot, too scared to fight back. Sex became very rough and there was no love involved. It was more like being raped and he'd fuck me even if I said I didn't want it."

"What made you finally flip?"

She let out a long sigh as she relived the events that had gotten her arrested.

"I was making dinner in the kitchen one night. I was chopping onions when he came home from the pub with one of his friends. He told me that this guy had paid him fifty quid to fuck me," she continued. "I obviously told him that I wasn't a hooker and that I wasn't going to have sex with him. My boyfriend got angry and said that I was making him look like an idiot in front of his friend. He slapped me across the face so hard that I fell to the floor. Then he dived on top of me and started to rip my clothes off, calling me a slag and saying that I was only good for one thing."

"So, you fought back?" I asked.

"Not at first. I thought he'd eventually leave me alone and go back to the pub. That's what usually happened when he beat me. But he told me that the guy had already paid him for my pussy and that he'd spent it on drinks at the pub so he couldn't give him his money back. He said this guy was going to fuck me even if he had to hold me down while he did it. That's when I fought back."

"And you stabbed him."

"Not intentionally. It just happened in the heat of the moment. I didn't even know I had a knife in my hand. I lashed out as he tried to pin me to the ground. The knife stabbed him through the chest and he bled to death in seconds."

"For fucks sake. If that's not classed as self-defence, I don't know what is," I protested.

"I know, right? It all happened so fast that I don't even remember the knife going in. I just remember seeing the blood all over me and all over the kitchen floor. I was swimming in it."

"What about the other guy? What happened to him?" I asked.

"He saw what had happened and he made a run for it. The next thing I know, the police are kicking my front door in. The other guy had reported it to the police, saying that I'd attacked my boyfriend in front of him."

"What the fuck?"

"He blamed it all on me, saying that I'd wanted a threesome. He said that they had both said no to my proposition and that I'd gotten mad and stabbed my boyfriend. It was his word against mine."

"Fucking assholes," I said. "You don't deserve to be in here for that."

"In a way I do. I killed another human being, although I use the term lightly when it comes to him. I should have just left after the first time he raised a hand to me. Now I have to pay for what I've done. I was sentenced to nine years for manslaughter and the judge said I'd been lucky not to get life."

"It still sounds unfair to me. Yes, killing someone is bad, but sometimes it's justified depending on the circumstances. In your case it was an accident."

"It scared me to death, knowing that I was capable of ending another person's life. I vowed never to be violent again."

"What if someone else attacks you? You're in prison for fucks sake."

"I try to turn the other cheek," she shrugged. "There's always another way to get out of a confrontation."

We both fell silent for a moment.

Naomi looked up at me as though she wanted to tell me something else, but we were suddenly interrupted. I heard the vertical viewing flap open on our door.

Click -- clack.

A face appeared in the slit-like window and then there was a bang on the door.

Bang -- bang.

"Move back from the door, girls. It's un-lock time," said a male voice.

We both backed up into the small space next to the desk. This looked like some sort of safety precaution to make sure that the guards didn't get jumped as they opened up. Naomi made no attempt to cover herself up as the keys jangled in the lock and the door creaked open.

A stocky guy stuck his head in and gave us both a quick once over. Maybe he was making sure neither of us had self-harmed during the night or maybe he was just enjoying the view. The way he licked his lips told me it was the latter.

"How's the work out going, Heart?" he raised his eyebrows at her. "Looking good."

"I'm working hard as usual, Mister Spalding," she replied politely.

He then looked me up and down.

"You must be..." he quickly checked a clipboard which was in his hand "...Sloan."

"Yes," I replied.

"Welcome to Bronzefield. You're in good hands with this one," he nodded at Naomi. "She'll show you around. The showers are open, you both look like you could use one."

"Thank you," Naomi replied. "How's Melody doing?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," he replied. "You know the rules."

"Awwww, I'm sure you can make an exception for me," she made a pouty face at him.

She seemed to have a rapport with Spalding and I wondered what the relationship was like between the two of them.

"It'll cost you," he said, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching him. "You know I'm not supposed to discuss prisoners who are in segregation."

Naomi smirked at him, knowing she had this guy right where she wanted him.

"Is it the usual price?" she asked.

"Yeah, I think that should cover it."

Without hesitating, Naomi slipped her fingers into the waistband of her sweaty knickers and thumbed them down in one fluid movement. She dangled them from her finger and passed them to Spalding. His hands had a slight tremble of excitement to them as he quickly took the panties from her and stuffed them into his pocket before anyone could see.

"I've had them on all night and then I've worked out in them this morning," she said in a flirtatious voice. "I'm sure they're more fragrant than usual so that's got to be worth some information, right?"

He glanced down at her naked pussy and then moved further into the cell.

"Melody's doing fine. She has a black eye, but I think the other girl came off worse," he said quietly. "I think she'll be out of segregation in a couple of days."

"Can you let her know that I've been asking about her?"

"I'll try, but it's difficult. You know how strict the governor is about this sort of thing. He wants to make an example out of them for fighting. He hates fighting in his prison, it effects his funding with the board."

"Poor him," she giggled. "It's tough at the top."

"I wouldn't know," he smirked. "I'll get these back to you once I'm done," he patted his pocket.

"Enjoy them," she laughed, taking a deep in-breath as though she was sniffing something.

Spalding nodded awkwardly and then left the cell. I heard him repeating the unlocking procedure on the cell next door as Naomi moved over to her locker.

"Who's Melody?" I asked.

"She's one of my best friends in here," she replied, pulling a fresh pair of white knickers from her locker. "She had an altercation with another inmate and they both got put into segregation to cool off. It was a hell of a fight and I was worried that she might be in the infirmary, but it sounds like she's doing ok."