Doing 'Hard' Time

Jack stepped out of his garish orange prison overalls and stood in front of Marcia in just his boxers and tee-shirt, pair of sneakers and a cap. All he had on apart from that was his electronic ankle tag, secured such that the only way to remove it was to cut his foot off.

He felt a little stupid, all the more so because of the rather condescending way she was surveying him.

"Tell me Jack... speaking of rudeness... do you normally wear a hat in the presence of a lady?"

He got the message. The baseball cap joined the overalls on the ground next to him.

"Ok, now your shirt."

The glint in Marcia's eye was indicating nothing but grief for Jack if he didn't obey.

"There, that's much better, isn't it?"

"Maam."

Marcia gazed coolly, appraisingly, at the near-naked prisoner, savouring her power over him, enjoying a thrilling frisson of ownership.

This was a blast.

This was proving every bit as entertaining as she'd anticipated it would be - a "hunky slave for the afternoon!" was how her best friend Trish had put it when the two of them had giggled about it the other day.

The 'slave' was looking at the floor, reluctant to make eye contact.

Marcia thought about toying with him a while longer. It was tempting. But no, there was plenty of time. Would spoil the fun to rush things.

"Ok, chop chop!" she smirked and she turned and walked off into the house.

**

Jack put his discarded clothes in a neat pile off to the side. Then he cleared his mind and he picked up the axe and got stuck in hacking at the trees.

It was back-breaking work, cutting down each one and chopping it into manageable pieces of timber, but he forced himself to keep up the pace and he made good progress.

It was hellish hot, though. He hadn't liked having to strip in front of Marcia Reynolds but he was glad to be down to his shorts. Even so he was starting to suffer in the heat. The sun was fierce and he could have done with his cap.

Jesus, the sweat was dripping off him!

He couldn't help looking longingly at the swimming pool which shimmered invitingly just a few yards from where he toiled. God, what he wouldn't give to stop what he was doing and plunge into the cool blue water!

He badly needed a drink too. He was parched.

How long to go?... Not sure, he had no watch, but he reckoned he'd been working for about an hour. Not much more than that, he hoped, because judging by the number of trees still in place he wasn't yet halfway through the full task.

Jack gritted his teeth and redoubled his efforts.

He remembered that Marcia had said she'd be out to check on him. Ok, so let's make sure that when she did she could see that he was on schedule to finish by five o'clock!

At this point (and Jack's inner clock was good, it was just after three) Marcia did come out to check on him and she looked a little different to how she had before.

Her hair was down and she had some lipstick on, but that wasn't what was grabbing Jack's attention.

The thing he noticed was that she'd changed out of the slacks and shapeless top into a red dress. The dress was short and skimpy and clung like a second skin to her stunning figure.

Jack swore under his breath when he saw this vision of female loveliness appear on the back terrace.

For Jack Vickers, as for many of the BC inmates, being deprived of sexual contact with women was the worst aspect of life inside, but the way that most of the others seemed to deal with it - nude pinups on the walls of their cells fuelling frequent masturbatory fantasies - didn't work for him.

Why torture yourself like that?

He had no such pictures and he didn't wank himself raw. Much better to avoid or sublimate all of that stuff, channel it elsewhere; it was something he'd been pretty good at doing over his years of imprisonment, at least until now.

I could do without this, Jack thought, his eyes lingering on the approaching Marcia Reynolds.

He tried desperately but unsuccessfully not to ogle as she sauntered barefoot across the grass towards him, shoulders back and chest out, wiggling her hips in the tight sexy dress.

Oh god. This was just not fair. He managed to carry on chopping but the momentum slackened considerably.

She came over to where he was working.

"Ok there, sugar?"

Jack put the axe down and faced her.

"Yes, Maam!"

He struggled to keep his eyes on her face but it was impossible to stop them straying to other parts of her anatomy. Fuck, the woman looked like a wet dream!

She'd looked pretty damn cute before, but in this outfit she was a lethal weapon.

And the way she was standing there - the provocative pose, knee flexed, hands on hips, one hip thrown out, the sly pout on the lips - it was clear to Jack that she knew it.

She moved in close to Jack. So close that he could reach out and touch her.

Marcia's mouth twitched in amusement: Except you can't, can you?

You can't lay a finger on me!

Behind her impenetrably dark, oversized sunglasses her gaze was entertained as she studied Jack and the delightfully obvious impact she was having on him.

Was that something moving inside his shorts?

Yes, she believed it was.

Bingo!

"You must be thirsty, poor thing," she said.

"Sure am, Maam."

Understatement of the century. Jack was gagging. He wanted a drink almost as much as he wanted to jump on this horny bitch and rip that little dress off her smoking hot body and fuck her senseless. That's how much he wanted a drink.

"Well good, because I've brought you one."

"Thank you, Maam!"

"Now where the hell is it?" muttered Marcia, one hand rummaging half-heartedly in the canvas bag she had slung over her shoulder. Eventually she gave up and she slipped the bag off and placed it on the ground in front of her.

She bent over to continue the search using both hands and this caused her spaghetti straps to slide over her bare shoulders. The neckline of her dress (quite tantalising to start with) slowly but surely slipped lower and lower, revealing ever more of her spectacular cleavage.

Jack was really suffering now. Fucking little tease!

It soon got worse for him.

As she carried on foraging down there, the straps inched their way down her arms. They fell past the critical point and suddenly the dress came right away from her chest.

Jack's pulse quickened and his breathing almost stopped - Marcia was topless under the dress and he was being treated to an unencumbered view of a pair of exquisite nestling breasts.

Fuck, he could see everything, nipples and all!

"At last!" Marcia announced, pulling a can from the bag.

She looked up sharply and saw what she was hoping and expecting to see - a sexually starved BC prisoner staring yearningly down her top.

Poor guy!

Jack looked away quickly, embarrassed at being caught in the act.

When he faced her again he found that she'd stood up but hadn't bothered to fix her straps, therefore the upper section of her dress was in a state of partial disarray; it was balancing precariously on the lower slopes of her firm jutting tits.

Her nipples were covered, but only just.

She was grinning at him, seemed to be enjoying the situation, although he couldn't totally read her expression because of her dark glasses.

Ok, thought Jack, so it was like that. Bitch was doing this deliberately.

Well, he couldn't do much about it. Not without getting into no end of trouble. The crucial thing was to not rise to her teasing. If he didn't rise to it she'd probably get bored and stop messing with him.

Except that a part of him was 'rising' to it - very much so.

The sight of Marcia's fabulous tits jiggling around naked inside her dress during her performance with the bag had given him a full erection - there was nothing on earth that could have prevented that happening - and the way she had the dress arranged now was doing absolutely nothing to help matters.

If anything it was worse being almost able to see her nipples.

Jack glanced down and saw to his dismay that his shorts were tenting, a large boner sticking out and pushing urgently against the loose material.

It could have been worse. It was just as well he had no fly or he'd have popped out and been free-to-air.

Still, he was mortified. There was no chance of pretending that he was immune to Marcia's charms when it was so tangibly obvious that he wasn't. Fuck, he was even leaking slightly. There was a small wet patch showing through.

He really needed to reach down and adjust himself, kind of tuck and trap things off to the side of his shorts if he could, but doing that with her watching would be just too embarrassing and therefore he did the only thing he could think of, which was try and hide what was going on by resting his hands together and in front of his lap.

He also conjured up an alternative and dampening mental image to counter the highly arousing one in front of him.

So the way his grandmother's mouth looked with her dentures out battled doggedly against how Marcia's killer legs looked in the little short dress that she was almost wearing and that was damn near sliding off those luscious melons of hers.

It worked a little bit. His erection remained but it lost some of its pulsing heat and it stopped leaking.

Marcia had other ideas however.

She pressed the can of drink into her cleavage and began rolling it against her skin in front of the mesmerised Jack.

"Mmm, this feels good actually," she giggled.

"Shame to drink it," she said.

Jack was sorely conflicted. He wanted the cold drink, he really did, but he also wanted Marcia to keep rolling the can around in her cleavage.

The more she did that the more likely it was that her dress would finally get dislodged from her tits (it really was just clinging on for dear life now) and he'd be able to see the whole glorious upper package again.

It was stupid and futile to succumb to her teasing, he knew this, but his dick was starting to get the upper hand here; his dick was starting to talk way louder than his brains.

Marcia was thoroughly enjoying herself. Poor guy doesn't know where to look!... and all that trying to cover his erection... so funny!

Bet he's soooo thirsty too. Bet he wants this drink I've got here real bad.

She held the can out to Jack.

"Here you go, sugar."

Jack reached eagerly for the can with one hand, careful to keep the other as a fig leaf over his groin. Ok, so Marcia knew that he had a hard-on, but why give the tormenting bitch an easy sight of the proof?

In any case his erection was subsiding as he focused on how thirsty he was. Man, he needed this drink. His mouth was dry as dust.

He took the can from Marcia. It was ice cold. Oh yeah!

"Beer is allowed, I guess?" said Marcia, just as Jack was about to crack the can.

Jack's features fell. He examined the can properly for the first time.

Miller.

Oh fuck.

There was nothing in this world (apart maybe from getting his hands on Marcia Reynolds) that he'd love more right now than a cold beer but no, it was definitively not allowed. If Jennings smelt even a trace of it on his breath when he came to collect him, which was in less than two hours, then he'd be for the high jump. No way could he take the risk.

"Sorry Maam, no," Jack said, his voice croaking.

He was still holding the can, staring at it, almost crying with disappointment.

"No alcohol?" said Marcia, sounding surprised.

"No, Maam."

"Oh," she said, relishing the look on Jack's face.

"That's too bad," she said.

"Maam."

Marcia held out her hand.

"Better give it back to me then."

Jack sadly relinquished the cold can of Miller.

"Suppose I could go back in and get you some water," said Marcia, her tone suggesting that the prospect wasn't particularly welcome.

"No Maam, don't worry. Not a problem," lied Jack.

"You sure?... You look pretty thirsty to me."

"No honestly, Maam. It's fine."

A naughty grin flashed suddenly across Marcia's lovely face.

"Guess I can always drink it. I'm thirsty too, come to think of it."

With that, Marcia pulled the tab on the beer. She'd been shaking the can around a little before she opened it and there was a fair amount of spray, which Marcia directed at Jack.

"Sorry," she giggled, and then she glugged most of the can in one go, drinking greedily and carelessly so that half the liquid escaped her mouth and spilt down her chin and onto her neck. Plenty of it ran further, trickling over and between her breasts and seeping on down inside her dress.

The unfortunate Jack Vickers, thirsty and horny as fuck, stood and watched this from a distance of around three feet.

His tongue was made even drier, the longing for a drink cruelly increased, by the sight of the cold beer going into Marcia's mouth; and his erection was at full mast again due to the sight of the beer not going into her mouth, by the liquid running slowly down into her cleavage and the top of her dress.

He still had his hands together in front of his groin in an increasingly pathetic attempt to shield the evidence of his arousal from Marcia.

All rather pointless because (i) she could see enough anyway and (ii) he looked even funnier to Marcia with how he was trying to cover up.

"Mmm, that was good!" Marcia sighed, when she'd finished guzzling.

She held the can out to Jack.

"You absolutely sure you won't have any, sugar?"

Jack shook his head. His face was a picture.

Marcia moved the can closer, held it right to his parched lips.

"Not just a little sip?" she grinned, openly tormenting him now. Her eyes were shining with sadistic glee behind her shades.

Jack jerked his head away.

"No, Maam," he mumbled.

"Aw, it really is too bad. Silly rule if you ask me. I'll tell my husband I think it's silly."

Marcia waggled the can, assessing how much was left.

"Well, I can't finish it. Better get rid of it, hadn't we?"

She upended the can and slowly poured the remainder of the beer into the ground at her feet.

"Such a waste," she said, tossing the empty over towards where Jack's clothes were lying.

It ended up on top of his overalls.

"Oh lord, just look at me," Marcia giggled, glancing down at the beer she'd spilled over herself.

Jack was doing exactly that - looking at her.

Christ, that dress! Just the force in his little finger would be enough to flick the damn thing off her tits. Her damp tits.

He didn't want to be so obviously lusting at her, he wished he had more willpower, but it was useless. He'd pretty much given up and was no longer fighting it.

The hot little bitch had him beat and there was nothing he could do about it.

She clearly wanted him drooling over her like a fucking idiot and so that is exactly what she was gonna get. It was torture, sure it was, but the bottom line was that she was the governor's wife and she could do whatever the hell she wanted. She could totally fuck him up if he didn't play whatever game she wished to play.

And if he complained to anyone he'd never be believed and things would get fucked up even worse.

So he stood there looking blatantly and hungrily at Marcia, hands at his sides, no longer trying to cover the erection which raged inside his shorts.

**

Marcia loved the way that Jack was now looking at her and she loved what was going on in his pants, the palpable evidence of what she was doing to his starved and frustrated cock.

Such a scream. She was driving this poor bastard crazy!

"Ok Jack, let me tell you what I'd like you to do now," she said, her voice dripping with lazy superiority.

"Maam?"

"I'd like you to take off your shorts."

Oh shit, thought Jack.

Where the fuck was she going with this?

"You know why?" Marcia grinned.

"Maam?"

"Because I reckon you've gotten yourself all excited looking at me in this little dress, haven't you?"

"Yes, Maam."

Pointless to deny it given his condition.

"Well I wanna see just how excited."

"Maam."

"So take them off, sugar."

Jack stepped out of his shorts and stood before Marcia naked except for his sneakers. His erection was enormous. He looked and felt utterly ridiculous.

"Ooo, Mr Vickers!" giggled Marcia.

She licked her lips in ostentatious appreciation of the size and firmness of Jack's cock. It put her husband's to shame, she had to admit, and she felt a definite tingling in her tummy and moisture between her legs.

And his body - so yummy and hard and muscled!

For the first time the thought flitted across Marcia's wicked mind to do more than just torment Jack Vickers and once there the idea took root.

She was having a ball torturing him, hadn't had such fun in ages, but why not fuck him too?

Not right now, a little later, when she'd teased and tantalised the wretched guy to the edge of insanity, why not open up her legs and reap the benefit?

She imagined Jack finally losing control and simply having to take her and to hell with the consequences. She imagined that big hard ravenous cock smashing in and out of her dripping pussy.

Mmm - yes please.

Jack was quite close to losing control now, in fact. He wanted to nail the tormenting little bitch. He wanted to show this woman, this Marcia Reynolds, that she couldn't just tease and humiliate him the way she was with no payback.

The only thing stopping him jumping her was the knowledge that it might - almost certainly would - land him in whole heap of trouble. At the very least it would surely mean the end of his prospect of early release.

This was enough to keep him in check. But only just. He was starting to hate the fucking woman!

On the surface he was docile and obedient, doing everything that Marcia ordered him to do, but inside he was boiling with anger and frustration and resentment.

These feelings only intensified as Marcia grew ever more cruel and capricious.

"You're like my slave, aren't you?" she said, when she'd finished laughing at how painfully aroused he was.

"Yes, Maam."

"My horny slave," she giggled.

"Yes, Maam."

"So, slave, tell me. Do you think I'm beautiful?"

"Yes, Maam."

"And my body, slave?... Is it very sexy?"

"Yes, Maam."

"I see. So would the horny slave like me to take this dress off?"

"Yes, Maam."

Marcia grinned wickedly at him.

"Ok, then I will... if the horny slave asks me nicely, that is."

"Please, Maam. Please take your dress off."

"Hmm, no, not quite what I had in mind. Kneel down and beg."

Jack sank to his knees and pleaded with Marcia to take her dress off.

She kept him down there begging for a while and then she giggled ok, and she slowly peeled the dress down and over her hips and stepped out of it.

Beneath she wore just the tiniest pair of black silk panties.

"Voila!" she pouted, pirouetting a couple times, flaunting her sumptuous body in front of the horribly tantalised Jack, her teasing utterly brazen now.

"Ok, stand up," Marcia ordered.

Jack did so. His cock was straining and near vertical.

Marcia started playing with her beautiful breasts, caressing them, massaging them, slowly circling the nipples with her fingertips.

"Do you like my big tits, slave?"

"Yes, Maam."

"Bet you'd love to do what I'm doing, wouldn't you? Bet you're dying to feel these tits, am I right?"

"Yes, Maam," said Jack, his voice an agonized whisper.

Marcia giggled.

"Aw, you poor poor thing... I'm being mean, aren't I, teasing my poor slave like this?"

"Yes, Maam."

"What's that?... You're saying I'm mean?"

"Um, no, I meant. No, Maam."

"Best be careful what you say, slave."

"Yes, Maam."

"Ok, good. I'm not being mean then."