Dyker's Island Ch. 01-08

Editor's note: this work contains scenes of rough, reluctant, dubiously consensual, consensually non-consensual (CNC), or non-consensual sex or scenarios.

Prologue

Imogen Harper sat in the back of the Prison Bus as it left the Courthouse. The streetracer was dressed in a sharp suit and pants that complemented both her tomboy fashion sense, and her angled emo style bob. Although Imogen wasn't one for jewelry, for this special occasion she was fitted with a pair of metallic stainless steel handcuffs and matching leg irons, courtesy of the state. They were connected to a chain that was attached to the seat in front of her.

Imogen had been lucky enough to have made bail, but her luck ran out when it came time for the judge to hand down the sentence - She had been all fire and brimstone this morning. Her brown hair was standing up at all ends, and even though the woman wasn't very old, the stress had begun to turn it gray. The Court echoed with the thunder of the gavel hammering against its block.

"For the crimes of Reckless Driving, Street Racing, Resisting Arrest and most heinously, Vehicular Homicide, I find the defendant GUILTY!" Foamed the young Judge.

Guilty. The word still echoed through Imogen's mind. These were the crimes for which Imogen Harper's emo tomgirl ass had been condemned. It looked like she had skipped county remand, only to be headed straight to prison.

The ebony skinned Judge Torres smiled sadistically as she read out the sentence.

"Maybe fifteen years at Dyker's Island will teach you that roads are not race tracks, Miss Harper."

The streetracer groaned with irritation in the courtroom as the guards fitted her with her new jewelry. And fifteen years was a long time. Although she didn't fear prison - She feared growing old there.

"Additionally, upon your release, you will be permanently barred from operating a motor-vehicle in any capacity."

That last clause in her sentence was what really stung Imogen. She had been to prison before. She knew the score. Fresh out of High School, she was caught selling stolen car parts out of the mechanic shop she apprenticed at. The state gave her six months.

The second time she spent in the slammer, she did four years for Grand Theft Auto. It was much the same scam as the first, except she'd stepped up her game to include the entire car.

But this was Imogen's third strike, and one of the crimes for which she had been found guilty was far more serious than her prior offenses.

The streetracer huffed and sulked in her bonds. It was complete bullshit that she was here.

"Vehicular Homicide?" She thought. "If Diego could drive for shit, he'd still be alive."

She didn't understand why she had taken the fall for something she hadn't done. Diego's own driving and actions had led to his death in the fiery crash that Imogen left steadily vanishing behind her in the rear view mirror.

But the state felt that Imogen had been the one to encourage him. Simply put, the District Attorney's office argued that she had killed him by association.

Her lawyer had promised her that this was a ridiculous claim that the courts wouldn't recognize, but she didn't know that the presiding judge happened to have a particular distaste for street racers.

"I suppose you get what you don't pay for with Court-Appointed legal counsel" She joked to herself, trying to keep up her spirits.

Imogen was heading inside for a total of fifteen years for her collective crimes. The streetracer had been found guilty of all of them, and the judge felt her lack of remorse warranted to maximum penalty. Imogen was 29. She would be almost 40 by the time she was released, if she didn't make parole before then.

"Fucking Diego" She cursed. "It's all his god damn fault."

As far as she was concerned, if he didn't get himself killed, she wouldn't be here - Or at the very least, she would be serving a considerably shorter sentence.

Imogen only ever wanted to play with the boys. But now, as an inmate of the notorious Dyker's Island Correctional Facility for Women, she wouldn't be playing with any boys for at least the next decade.

That part of prison didn't bother her that much. After all, she was bisexual and openly identified as queer. She hated the bondage, the discipline and the hard work. She knew from her previous time inside that now she'd have to constantly stay on her guard and possibly fight to survive against the meaner girls - Of which, there would be many.

She would miss many things over the next fifteen years, but what she'd miss most would be her car. Nothing would beat the feeling that she got when she tuned her - Or the exhilaration she felt drifting around city streets at 150mph. Imogen wasn't afraid to admit that the sound of a V8 revving its engine turned her on more than any human did.

Imogen did not regret her actions; only the consequences. She mewled in resentment of the state, honestly believing she had done nothing wrong - Blissfully ignorant of both the rule of law and common morality. But soon enough, during her extended stay at Dyker's Island as a guest of the government, the streetracer would learn to regret all her crimes.

Imogen had surprised herself by how well she had been dealing with everything, despite her circumstances. She may have been dying on the inside, but externally, she was as cool as Fonzy. The streetracer looked around the bus at the various other condemned women who would be joining her soon in Hell.

The woman next to her, Ashley Simpson, had obviously spent time in County, from the white and black striped fatigues that she wore. The 31 year old mother of three seemed quite pleased with herself. About what exactly, Imogen had no clue. She couldn't imagine that anyone could be proud to go to prison. Then for a moment her mind was filled with dread, at the thought that the woman might have been a psychotic killer.

But her crime wasn't a dangerous one. Ashley was smiling happily because she was exactly where she wanted to be. The blonde and buxom former High School Librarian held with pride the fact that she had been arrested 114 times - And was strip searched for every one. Ashley recounted silently to herself, the 46 occasions where she had experienced full body cavity searches.

It was true that being verbally abused and manhandled by big, tough women appealed to the sheltered housewife's particular paraphilia. Ashley first discovered it six years ago, shortly after her no good ex-husband had left her for the babysitter.

She didn't mean to steal that perfume from Sears; she just forgot it was in her purse. But once she experienced the thrill of being stripped naked by a mean, dykey mall cop, Ashley knew that she could never go back to her boring old sex life.

The way the muscular woman touched her intimate places awoke feelings in Ashley that her ex-husband never came close to satisfying. She couldn't explain it; But something about the humiliation and the submission got all her cylinders firing.

In the years since that day, Ashley had committed 113 different crimes.

Originally, her motive was simply to get strip searched. She would allow herself to get caught stealing tampons or make-up in Department Stores. Other times, she would loiter at Government Buildings or Airports, and exclaim at the top of her voice, capricious remarks like "That Ben Affleck movie was a real BOMB!" in her many efforts to be arrested.

She only graduated from there. Eventually, the normally straitlaced Ashley started buying weed, purely to smoke it infront of policewomen to get searched. Curiously, she found that she enjoyed the substance, and began taking it up in her spare time.

Ashley's repeated transgressions had cost her everything, even before her current incarceration. She had been given 6 months in County for Possession and Public Intoxication, and this was one of many reasons the Courts had decided to give her ex-husband full custody of their children. But in her lust, Ashley didn't care about her daughters anymore.

All she cared about was her next physical thrill. Eventually, the High School she worked at no longer wanted anything to do with her, and she struggled to find stable work at others. For the past four years, she'd bounced around as a substitute in some of the least reputable institutions in town.

Ashley began going to lesbian bars, but never gathered the courage to approach anyone or return their advances. She spent her nights masturbating furiously to pornography that catered to her particular tastes. Although she wasn't ready to come out yet, the middle aged divorcee had gone off men entirely.

She marathoned 70s exploitation movies about innocent straight white girls being brutalized by black lesbians on the inside. She owned the complete blu-ray collections of Prisoner, Wentworth, Orange is the New Black and Locked Up. She read book after book about female inmates and their experiences behind bars.

After six years, Ashley realized that only one thing could scratch her particular itch; Prison.

She had heard the stories; everyone in Middle America did. But beyond that, she had done enough research to know that they were true; Prison was a place where mean, strong girls did the kinds of things she liked everyday. The state had been reluctant to punish her, even though the District Attorney had long tired of her games. But Ashley knew that if she was party to a more serious crime; The state would have no choice but to charge, try and sentence her.

That was what led the disgraced soccer mom to smuggle drugs for the Colombian Cartel. And also what led her to purposely do it incredibly poorly. Ashley didn't give anybody up - Not because she held some misplaced honor among thieves, but because she instructed her legal counsel to ensure the maximum penalty. The woman went so far as to actively make things worse for herself, and antagonized both the judge and the prosecutor.

She remembered how wet she got, just hours ago, at the judge's words of scorn as she laid down the sentence.

"For the crimes of Sexual Deviancy, Obstruction of Justice, Smuggling Narcotics and Contempt of Court, I find the defendant GUILTY!" She screamed, maddly hammering her gavel.

"Every time this woman comes through the system, it costs the taxpayers money. I'm sick of it! Maybe fifteen years at Dyker's Island, receiving the kind of treatment she apparently craves, will cure Ms Simpson of her so-called 'disease' once and for all."

Ashley couldn't stop herself from bursting into cheer at the sentence. The young and brunette haired black judge appeared the dominant type and Ashley imagined her dealing out the punishments personally - She was particularly thrilled by interacial encounters.

The time she spent in County while on remand had been fun enough - Ashley couldn't wait for real prison. She knew that there, the girl's got cavity searches on the daily, and women like her were passed around for fish sticks. The thought excited the sultry milf even more than she already was. This was like an early retirement for her.

"Goodbye boring suburban housewife, hello horny prison bitch!" She whispered to herself gleefully.

Imogen looked over the woman with puzzlement. If it wasn't for the stripes and handcuffs, she could have mistaken this woman for a Karen; The kind who would often hold up lines at the mall with furious and tandem complaints to the management. Or maybe the kind that fought with other soccer moms at their children's game.

The punkish tomboy raised her eyebrows and peaked up her nose.

"What are you in for, blondie?"

The passive aggression in Imogen's voice began to fire Ashley's engine. Her eyes widened and she broke from her day dream to look at the sharply dressed and heavily tattooed emo who sat bound beside her.

"I've been a very bad girl." She said through a lustful smile. "I'm right where I belong!"

Imogen rolled her eyes. Crazies like her were a dime a dozen in prison. During her last stay at Dyker's Island, she seemed to meet lunatics daily.

Imogen looked around the bus again. Behind them sat four women. Rachel Madea, Maya Mukherjee, Taylah Cross and Cate Byron; Current inmates of Dyker's Island. Rachel appeared to be the ringleader. The ebony maiden had thick brown curly hair that must have been hell to manage in prison. Maya was an Indian girl who clearly held the second position of influence. Her long black hair flowed freely down her back and shoulders. Taylah was a bigger white girl whose hair was cut in a short bob. Cate was a biracial girl with a muscular physique and brown hair pulled up into pigtails, as her "Mommy" demanded.

They were all dressed in Orange Uniforms that were cut short, cropped and worn open at the insistence of the women who owned them. They no longer had any choice in what they wore. Each girl fumed with anger towards another inmate who also sat on the bus. Imogen's attention soon turned to her too, and the woman was immediately eye-catching because she too was another alt-girl. Though the girl was a Goth, and therefore an Emo's natural enemy.

Her name was Stephanie Delgado, though Imogen didn't know that yet. She was dressed in an incredibly impractical outfit for court; A blackcorset, miniskirt, fishnet stockings and high platform boots. The pale Italian Goth Girl insisted always to be dressed to impress, even for her own trial. Steph had long, detailed gothic sleeves tattooed on each arm that made Imogen jealous of her ink. She was sobbing since before they placed her on the bus, and her smuggled eyeliner made a mess of her face. Her black lipstick perfectly complimented her pale complexion and pouting lips.

Stephanie was a vegan and animal rights activist, whose politics had gotten particularly radical in recent years. She had occupied a slaughterhouse and taken hostages with a group of friends - The very same "friends" who now sat at the back of the bus, undressing her with their eyes and cursing her name with words of scorn.

The Police foiled the eco-terrorists plot, and they were all arrested. However, Stephanie was a rich girl born into privilege. Her father owned a local football club, and used his influence to make sure his precious daughter was out on bail. But while Stephanie enjoyed an easy life in the months leading up to her trial, her four co-defendants languished in prison - without even so much as a call from her.

In that time, the four girls had experienced the worst of prison; They had their holes searched everyday. They were forced into working long hours breaking rocks for no pay. But worst of all, they had been at the mercy of their fellow inmates. For fourteen months, they had been getting the kind of attention that Ashley craved; They ate pussy, kissed ass and sucked on nipples, even though all of them were straight. It happened every single day and they hated that Stephanie was free while they suffered behind bars.

So, together, they decided to make a deal with the DA; Testify that Stephanie was the mastermind - Even though she wasn't. They would all still go to prison, but she would get it the longest - And the hardest. And that's just what they did. They bickered and plotted behind her to make sure that she would get the full brunt of the law; 25 years without parole.

In their testimony, the four girls had created a picture of the absent minded and naive Goth Girl as a terrorist mastermind. It was true she had been bankrolling their operations, but the other four were far more involved in organization.

But they even blamed her for the deaths at the slaughterhouse, and a bunch of other things she didn't do. They'd be out in 8 years - If they played their cards right. But the 25 year old Stephanie would be 50 before she ever saw the light of day again. Her entire youth would be wasted - Like the lives of the people who died because of her actions.

She felt utterly betrayed, as well as completely terrified. She had heard about the things that happened to girls like her in prison.

The worst thing was that Dyker's Island had all female staff. It would be two and a half decades before she would even see a man again. That terrified her more than the other aspects of prison life - Most of which she was ignorant towards. Stephanie was a diagnosed nymphomaniac. Many of her ex-boyfriends learned the hard way that it took alot to satisfy this particular Goth Girl.

She lived for the cock - And craved it everyday. The idea of going without it was unthinkable. There truly was nothing she loved better than taking dick - Preferably multiple at once. But she knew that where she was headed, girls like her didn't get to play with erections anymore. Worse still, they had to play with girls and vaginas.

Stephanie held an insecurity about her own sexuality. It wasn't that she was homophobic per say - She really did have no problem with gay people. But she often held a fear of her own bicurious tendencies that she kept buried deep inside her. There was nothing she was more afraid of than the idea of sex with a woman - A reality that she would be soon unable to escape from.

The Goth Girl balled her eyes out as her former friends jeered and cat called her. How could they do this to her? She was just going along with the rest of the team. She couldn't focus on their words of mockery. Her mind was too preoccupied recounting the events in court merely hours ago.

The Judge had been busy this morning. Steph was the third woman on the bus who had been sentenced by her - And she wasn't at all the last. She did not have patience anymore for another rich girl who thought that daddy could get her out of trouble.

She wildly hammered her gavel like a mad blacksmith. It thundered through the Courtroom.

"For the crimes of Terrorism, Manslaughter, Sabotage, Kidnapping and Civil Disobedience, I find the defendant GUILTY!" Screamed the judge furiously.

"25 years without parole at Dyker's Island should give Ms Delgado enough time to reflect on her political views and reevaluate them."

A sadistic smile grew across the pretty young Judge's face as Stephanie burst into tears in the courtroom. She took a kind of sick pleasure in sentencing girls like her to prison.

"I'm afraid that your "Daddy" won't be able to buy your way out of trouble this time." She Mocked.

Steph remembered the looks on her four "friends" faces when they heard the sentence; They grinned the same sadistic smile when she got it the worst. She couldn't believe it. It was true. She really was going to prison. And she was terrified that she had no idea what it would be like.

The Judge then turned to the co-defendants, and brought down her gavel once more.

"In exchange for their testimony, I have decided to commute the sentences of Delgado's co-defendants to 15 years with possibility of parole after 8 years. I hope they too can use this time to re-evaluate their beliefs."

They weren't over the moon about how it turned out for them - But it was obvious that the four young women were thankful and gracious to the Judge for the leniency she had shown them - Small as it may have been.