Becca XXX - Hard Time Ch. 11

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 11.

We drove slowly away from Bronzefield, leaving the burning prison behind us. The thick black smoke and orange flames leapt a hundred feet into the air as The Crow's handy work wreaked havoc on the building. The clock on the dashboard told us it was just after one in the morning and we knew that we had to get as far away from the carnage as possible.

Distancing ourselves from the problem would make us feel safer and we figured that we had plenty of time. It would take a while before the fire was extinguished and a roll call of prisoners was carried out. The prison would be in a state of chaos due to the fire, which meant no one would know we were missing for at least an hour. Even when they figured out three prisoners were unaccounted for, they still might assume that we were burned to death in the basement with everyone else. That meant that nobody would be looking for us right away.

The chink in our armour was the fact that we were driving away in one of the prison officer's cars. I hoped that the wreckage of the burning buses in the car park would buy us a few hours until they realised Reid's car was missing. By that time, we'd be long gone, but we still had a few other problems to overcome. The first was the fact that the car's number plates could still be tracked on automatic number plate recognition cameras which were abundant on all major roads across the country. It wouldn't matter how far we travelled if the authorities could track the car. The car itself was as plain as vanilla and certainly wouldn't stand out to anybody. I kept the Micra below the speed limit to prevent any unwanted attention being drawn to ourselves.

Our second issue was that, although the car blended in on the almost deserted roads, two women dressed in prison officers clothing stood out like a sore thumb. We needed to change into something more civilian so that if we did get stopped by the police, we could pass as two girls coming back from a club or late-night party.

Luckily, Melody and Naomi had come up with the perfect solution to both of our immediate problems and we were heading to a memorised spot to resolve them before we made too much distance.

"Are you ok?" I asked, breaking the silence that had descended upon us since we'd rammed the barrier during our dramatic escape.

"Yes, I think so," she replied. "It's still sinking in. I can't believe we're out."

"I know what you mean, but we've still got a lot of work to do before we can relax, Melody."

"I guess you should start calling me Sasha now," she laughed. "It looks like I'm back from the dead."

"You certainly are, but it's going to feel weird calling you Sasha," I giggled. "I'm so used to calling you Melody."

"I know, but it will only confuse my father when we meet him," she sighed. "I need him to clear my name so we'd both better get used to it."

"Ok, Sasha," I smiled. "Sasha is a sexy name, by the way. It definitely suits you."

"Thanks," she shifted in her seat and I knew her trousers were sticking to her legs.

I was having the same problem. Sticky cum was leaking from my pussy after the gang bang and it was soaking into my trousers. Now that we were sitting down in the car, the spunk from the rapists was drying and the trousers felt clammy and uncomfortable.

"The sooner we get changed, the better," Sasha moaned, pulling at the wet fabric and adjusting herself. "Hopefully, I'll find something that fits me better than Jarvis' uniform."

"Are you sure this will work?" I quizzed. "Have you done this sort of thing before?"

"It's a little trick that Melody taught me," she said confidently. "It's amazing what people throw out. She told me that if I ever needed an emergency change of clothes, I should try the local charity bins at supermarkets. Turn right here."

We turned off of Staines Road and into Tesco's car park. The store was well and truly closed and looked eerily dark at this time of the morning.

"There," said Sasha pointing to the far corner of the car park away from the store. "Salvation Army charity donation bins."

We drove slowly towards the large steel bins which were illuminated by our headlights. I glanced around the car park to make sure we were alone and then pulled up next to them. I wasn't expecting anyone to be out shopping in the early hours, but there might have been a car with a couple of lovers inside, hoping to get lucky in the quiet car park.

The place was deserted apart from a few taxis and late-night cars driving along the main road. There were a few delivery vans parked up next to the store, but they hadn't moved for some time - the windows were wet with condensation. We were safe enough.

"Let's do it," said Sasha, taking her seat belt off and getting out of the car.

We were only five miles away from Bronzefield and I could still see the smoke billowing into the air. We needed to be quick before the whole town was rammed with police and emergency vehicles. I followed Sasha to the large steel bins which had the Salvation Army banner emblazoned on the front of the black steel. On the front of it there was a small hatch which was used to deposit second-hand, unwanted clothing to the needy and homeless.

"You'll have to crawl in and throw a few bags out to me," said Sasha, pulling the hatch open and holding it in position to prevent the heavy spring from closing it.

"Why me?" I protested.

"Because you're the smallest," she replied. "Come on, chop chop."

I quickly wriggled out of Reid's stab vest so that I could squeeze through the small hole. The steel felt slippery and cold as I half-climbed and half-slid into the bin like a worm going into its hole. At least I had a very soft landing. The bin was filled with plastic bags which in turn were filled with clothing and shoes. I steadied myself on all fours in the claustrophobic space and stared out at Sasha.

"We don't need anything glamorous," she smiled back at me. "Just throw out a dozen bags and come back out. I'm sure we'll find something suitable."

I couldn't see a thing in the bin so I just grabbed random bags and hurled them out of the small hatch. They landed on the tarmac with a thud, one after the other until I had practically emptied half the contents of the clothing bank.

Hurl - thud. Hurl - thud. Hurl - thud.

I then crawled back out and landed in a heap next to the bags. The car park was still quiet so we set about opening the bags and looking for anything that would fit and that would look natural on us. The first few bags were full of clothes that my grandma would have worn so they were stuffed back into the bin.

Eventually, I found a pair of denim jeans with fashionable rips in them in my size and a black T-shirt that said 'Lucky' on the front in pink neon writing. I also found a dark grey hoody and a pair of black fashion trainers.

"It's amazing what people throw out," I gasped as Sasha rifled through the bags in search of her new look. "Some of this stuff looks brand new."

"I know," she replied. "Lucky for us, the world has become a throw-away society. People's attitudes are to just wear it once and throw it away."

She was right. One person's rubbish was another person's treasure. I was grateful to be wearing anything other than the screw's spunk-stained clothing. I felt a little guilty about stealing from a charity, but it was necessary in order to complete my mission. I made a mental note to make a healthy donation to the Salvation Army once the mission was over.

I knew there was little chance of finding any underwear, so I didn't even bother to look; we'd have to go topless and panty-less. After another quick check around the car park, I stripped off Reid's uniform and started to get dressed. It was freezing cold standing naked in the dark and my nipples were soon standing to attention.

I slipped the jeans on first as Sasha found what she was looking for and started to undress next to me. Her naked boobs soon filled my vision in the car headlights and I was mesmerised at them bouncing and jiggling as she shuffled out of her damp trousers. She was at least a double-D-cup and even though they were big, she could easily get away without wearing a bra. I pulled my T-shirt and hoody on, followed by my trainers and then left Sasha to finish getting dressed. I needed to take stock of our situation and see what resources we had available to us in Reid's car.

I took the telescopic baton and taser from the stab vests and threw them onto the back seat of the Micra. Reid had about a hundred pounds in cash in her pockets so I stuffed that into my jeans and then searched the boot off the car for anything useful. I found a small day sack containing a hairbrush, some bottled water and a snack bar. There was also an out-of-date road map. Reid might have been a bitch, but at least she was well prepared. Sat-navs were all well and good, but sometimes you just needed a good old-fashioned map book. We had left the screws' mobile phones with their dead bodies for obvious reasons. There was no way we would take such an amazing tracking device with us - the police would find us within hours.

I placed the day sack in the passenger side footwell and then went back to the boot. Underneath the boot carpet there was a small tool box with the basics inside. You wouldn't be able to fix a broken-down vehicle with it, but I soon found what I needed.

"Are you ready," I asked, picking up a screwdriver and moving back to Sasha.

"Pretty much," she said, throwing a baseball cap at me. "Here, put this on in case we need to hide our faces from the cameras. We'll be hitting London tomorrow and there'll be CCTV everywhere we go. What do you think to my new outfit?"

She gave me a twirl to show me what she'd found. She too had a pair of jeans on and a pair of black trainers. The jeans were tight in all the right places, showing off her sexy booty. Her top half consisted of a grey, tight-fitting fleece and navy-blue quilted body warmer. It was a little bit too small, but young women would wear it that way to make their boobs look bigger - not that Sasha needed it.

"Sensational darling," I mimicked a fashion designer's camp voice. "Throw the rest of the clothes back into the charity bin and then we'll go and swap the plates over."

I waved the screwdriver at her.

"What are we swapping them with?" she quizzed.

"The delivery trucks will do," I nodded over at the parked vehicles.

"But the plates won't match the car," she replied.

"It doesn't matter. The automatic number plate recognition system doesn't work like that. It just pings the plates as they pass under the detectors. All they'll see is the number plate rather than what vehicle they're attached to. When they finally figure it out, we'll have ditched the car anyway."

ANPR cameras were used by the authorities to find stolen cars or track known persons of interest as they travelled up and down the country. Whenever a vehicle passed under one of the cameras, it would record the number plate and the direction of travel. It could then be used to predict their destination so they could be intercepted and apprehended without having to give chase. Once I swapped our plates for the delivery truck, we'd effectively become the delivery truck.

We threw the unused clothes back into the Salvation Army bin, including Reid and Jarvis' old uniforms and then we got back into the car. After a short drive to the parked-up trucks, we both got out, leaving the engine running. It was freezing cold and the car hadn't been driven far enough to warm it up.

As we bent down to remove the number plates, we heard the first sirens coming towards us along the main road. We both froze and kept low as six fire engines flew past us a couple of hundred metres away. The blinding blue lights lit up the supermarket and the loud siren bounced off the glass buildings all around us. They soon faded away as they sped towards the burning prison.

"I hope none of the prisoners have been harmed," said Sasha, sounding concerned. "I'd hate anyone innocent to get hurt."

I burst out laughing as I unscrewed the first plate.

"What's so funny?" she spat.

"There's not many innocent people in there - they're prisoners, remember?" I laughed.

"Oh... right... yeah... I see your point," she giggled. "But you know what I mean."

Our laughter broke the tense situation we were in and I saw her start to relax for the first time since we'd left the rape room.

"I do. I'm sure Arrow and Naomi are fine."

I moved to the back of the truck and removed the rear plate. After a quick swap over, I soon had the plates from the truck on our vehicle and the Nissan's plates on the truck. Leaving the truck without plates would be instantly visible come the morning, so I replaced them with ours. Small details like this always mattered and it might throw the police off of our trail if they tracked the truck, thinking it was us.

More sirens and blue lights screamed by. Some were police and some were ambulances. The men in the basement wouldn't be needing any medical assistance - they'd have burned to death by now. The emergency services would have a hard time identifying The Crow's victims after she'd cremated them. Luckily, as all criminals were DNA tested when they got arrested, they'd soon figure out who they were.

"We need to get away from here before they get helicopters up and start closing the roads," said Sasha.

"I know. There's some water in the bag if you need a drink," I said, getting back in the car. "Pick up the map book and let's get out of here."

Sasha jumped into the passenger seat and I pulled the car out of the supermarket and back onto the main road. We had a lot of miles to cover, but I felt safer now that we were in civilian clothing and had fresh plates on the car.

"We can't risk the motorways," said Sasha. "Take the A308. It's straight on at the roundabout and then keep going until we get to the A309."

"Ok. Are you sure Brighton's our best option?" I quizzed, recalling her plan for our overnight stop.

"Yeah, I know a place down there," she said. "It's a seaside town full of holiday lets. They'll be empty at this time of year. It's another one of Melody's top tips."

"Ok. I'll take your word for it," I replied keeping a watchful eye out in the rear-view mirror. "You'll have to direct me."

"I will. Keep going straight for now."

We drove through the quiet streets of the South Thames area. The further we got from Bronzefield, the better we felt. We'd achieved the impossible and I felt very proud of our escape. Sasha put the radio on keeping the volume low, waiting to hear news of the prison fire, but it hadn't gotten that far yet. I knew that the media would be descending upon the place in their droves once they got their tip offs, but for now it was quiet.

"Do you want some water?" Sasha asked, pulling a couple of bottles from Reid's bag.

"Yes please. Anything to get the taste of cock out of my mouth," I replied.

She unscrewed the lid and passed it to me, taking one for herself.

"How do you feel?" I asked, taking a long swig of water.

"I'm ok I guess," she sighed. "I don't think I could have taken much more of it."

"I'm sorry that you had to go through it again, but it was the only way out of there."

"I know. There was no getting out of it anyway. The Governor wouldn't have let me back out. Once you volunteer for his sick orgy, that's it, there's no going back. It's not your fault."

"I know, but I know you struggled with it," I said sympathetically.

"I just don't know how men can act that way towards women. Sick fuckers," she spat. "I know The Crow is insane, but I'm glad she killed them all. They deserved it."

"Too right, they did. I guess that some men have it bred into them, or something bad happened in their lives to make them that way, but it's over now."

"It's certainly over for them," she giggled. "What about you? Are you alright after taking on that many men?"

"It's different for me," I replied. "I have some sort of inner demon that takes over when stuff like that happens to me. I call it my inner slut."

"Your inner slut? Jesus, Becca, you're not telling me you actually enjoyed it?"

"In a way I suppose I did. I like being the centre of attention even if it is non-consensual. I love sex and I don't care who it's with. I don't have to be in love with someone to enjoy the physical side of things. I just blank it out and enjoy the fact that I'm being fucked by multiple partners," I shrugged as though it was nothing.

"I wish I could feel as positive about it as you do. I feel ashamed of what happened to me. Those men made me feel like nothing more than a fuck doll," she shuddered. "Burning to death was too good for them."

"I agree, but it's all about getting your head around it. They can rape your body, but never your mind unless you let them. If you can think like that, no one can ever break you."

"Maybe if I'd been able to think like that, I'd never have left my father," she sighed.

"Do you regret leaving him? What he did to you wasn't exactly normal."

"I regret the life I walked into after I left him," she admitted. "Being gang raped once a week wasn't exactly what I was looking for. And yes, I know it wasn't normal to be fucked by my father. It's weird the way I feel. In a way I miss it, but in another way I'd like to shoot the bastard for what he did to me."

"I can understand that," I replied. "If fucking you wasn't weird enough, trying to marry you certainly was."

"I know. The last thing I wanted to do was to replace my mother, but I did enjoy his more affectionate side. It was the first time he'd paid me any attention even if it was incestuous."

"There's nothing like keeping it in the family," I laughed.

"I can't believe you're so understanding about it," she giggled. "Most people would find it disgusting."

"You can't help who you love," I shrugged. "And besides, if he has as much money as you're making out, you might have some competition on your hands. I don't have anywhere else to go after all."

"Oh my god, Becca. You are so bad," she exclaimed. "You're just his type too."

"In what way am I his type?"

"You're a dirty bitch," she joked.

"Oi, cheeky," I protested. "You're the one who's fucking her own father. I think that makes you the dirty one."

We both burst out laughing and continued our journey south. It was beginning to feel more like a road trip than a prison escape. Sasha was good fun to be around despite what had happened to her. I was sure she'd given her predicament a lot of thought since she had gotten arrested and her mind seemed to be made up about seeing her father again. My indirect questions and agreeable nature were all part of my plan to keep her on track. I needed to get to Charles Hamilton and complete my mission once and for all.

The moonless sky was clear and the outside temperature had dropped to zero. The Micra's heater was on full blast and we were toasty-warm in the little car. My thoughts turned to Lexa as we joined the A24 and headed for Brighton. My time in prison had made my heart ache for her. I always missed her when I was on assignment, but this one had been particularly tough. I knew she'd already have been informed about the prison fire and she'd put two and two together and realise I'd escaped with Sasha. I was hoping to get an opportunity to call her and let her know where I was, but I needed to be alone for that.

Sasha was drifting off to sleep so I took the opportunity to come up with the next stage of my plan. So far, my whole concentration had been about escaping from Bronzefield, but I had to put that behind me and move forwards.