Dyker's Island Ch. 01-08

"Horsemeat loaf. Microwaved macaroni cheese. Milk-Oat slop. The cups got Kool-Aid. Everything a growing girl needs."

Stephanie recoiled her head from the meal.

"I can't eat this. It's not vegan."

The mob wife was clearly unsympathetic and maybe also a little offended, since she had slaved for hours in the kitchen preparing it for the ungrateful brat. Fran groaned.

"Well, that's all there is. This is prison, honey, not a holiday resort."

She pushed the cart towards the next cell angrily grumbling to herself.

"'It's not Vegan'. Give me a fucking break, bitch. It ain't fuckin gabagool either but you don't see me complainin!"

Imogen took her plate and Kool-Aid. She sat down and started eating. Ashley did too.

The others didn't. She hated the taste of it, but she knew that she would need the energy come work time tomorrow. Sometime soon another inmate would come around with a clipboard and give them a choice of the available jobs. She knew things hadn't changed since last time she was here, and she weighed the options in her mind ahead of time.

There was the Library. It was the easiest, but Imogen also thought it was the most boring. Other than comic books, she wasn't that much into reading. She preferred to play outside. Not that she could do that anymore. Except for the soccer team. Maybe she could sign up for that when they started the draft for next season. Their first match was always against the girls from Widow's Peril Correctional in neighboring Georgia. They were pushovers compared to Dyker's Island inmates.

The next easiest job was the laundry, but it was so tedious. She chewed both her food and the option as she weighed whether the tandem was worth the ease of the work. Imogen knew she didn't want to be a janitor. Cleaning blood, puke and shit from the showers and cells didn't seem particularly pleasant. There was a garment factory. The inmates made jeans and ironically, prison uniforms for other similar facilities.

It wasn't particularly hard, and it gave good privileges, but Imogen had never learned how to sew. The prison didn't offer classes. Ashley looked like the kind of woman who loved that boring girly shit. Maybe she could teach her?

For the time being, she'd probably settle for something else. The kitchen, she knew, was a no go. The Mob Wives owned that racket and the few spaces they allowed the other inmates to have always filled fast.

She definitely knew that she wouldn't be signing up for the chain gang. No sane woman would. It was usually saved as a punishment detail, though she suspected that Ashley would gleefully sign up for it in a heartbeat. Imogen couldn't allow that. Her soft hands would surely callus from that kind of hard work. Nobody would pay top dollar for her services then. Her market value would substantially decrease.

There was only one option left. And it was fittingly ironic. She decided she'd press license plates. It wasn't really that hard, depending on what position you were on the assembly line. Most of the time it just involved pressing a button. And at least that way, she could still be doing something involving her love of automobiles. It wasn't quite her mechanics shop, but it would do.

Then she remembered the other job she had to perform. The one on the slip of paper she hid in her underwear. She placed her tasteless meal on the bed next to her. Ashley was digging in. Even the food here turned her on, she was that perverted. She loved every moment of the punishment. Stephanie sipped on her Kool-Aid in the corner and grumbled.

"This is exactly the kind of bullshit that I was fighting against!" The terrorist in her obviously hadn't been expunged yet.

"That's it! I'm going on hunger strike."

Imogen pulled the slip of paper out of her panties and shook her head.

"They don't care, Delgado. Take my advice and just don't eat the meat. You'll need to eat, and you'll only hurt yourself in vain if you don't."

Stephanie seethed in her corner.

"It's the principle! I have to stick by them!"

Imogen sat back in the bunk and surreptitiously opened the note.

"Your principles got you locked up here, sister."

Stephanie clenched her fists.

"Fuck you, poser."

Imogen chuckled softly. She looked up from the note and slowly sprung off the bed.

She liked her. She was spunky. They'd be good friends.

But she couldn't just let her talk back to her like that either. Not infront of the bitches or the other girls in the cell across from them.

The street racer got right up in her face. Steph could feel her breath against her skin. Imogen put her arm on the wall next to Steph's head.

"You've got a tongue on you, girl. I like you, but if you use it like that against me again, I'll find another use for it."

Stephanie shut up after that. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. She knew now that was a line she was terrified of crossing. The goth girl stood there stunned. The worst thing was, as afraid as it made her, it also made her even more horny. She didn't understand why.

Imogen sat back in her bunk and read the note. It was from Mabel. She thought that she had lovely handwriting. It said "Need you to bring in a package, love." And specified a phone number.

She knew that meant she had to be a mule. But it wasn't just that. She'd need someone else to pick up the package and smuggle it through security into the visitors center. Imogen knew that meant it had to be a woman. Most people she knew on the outside who would be willing was a boy. And the ones who weren't were far too suspicious.

The street racer looked at her bitches. Maybe she could put one of them to work. Anna botched a murder and Ashley wanted to be searched. They were both liabilities for this kind of work. That left only one girl. Yuki. She was rich and probably had a fancy lawyer who would do things for her without suspicion.

Imogen was indebted to Mabel. She was playing nice so far, but if she didn't placate her with jobs like this, she knew Mabel would call in that debt. The crime boss would have her killed, or worse; She'd be a bitch again. She'd be made to lick the aged woman's toes and bathe her like a queen.

Imogen couldn't return to that life. Not if she was going to be here for so long.

She wasn't proud of it. She thought about using Yuki to be her mule. The girl said she was innocent. Maybe she was. Sooner or later this place would take that from her anyway.

'But it doesn't have to be me.' Thought the tom girl.

Liability or not, she'd take a chance with Anna. If Imogen set everything up right, it would work.

At least she knew that girl deserved everything that was coming to her.

It was time she began to tell her slaves what their new lives would entail. Imogen put her plate on the floor and patted the mattress next to her.

"Bitches, sweet little bitches. Come up here and sit on the bed with me. I've got to explain to you how this is going to work for you."

The girls crawled over and climbed up on the bed in nothing but their panties. They sat crossed legged on the mattress, cramped up together. Yuki and Anna hated that their naked bodies were touching. Ashley loved it. Stephanie was in the corner trying not to watch. It was just way too gay for her. She looked over at the cell across from them. The women were styling their bitches hair and caking them in smuggled make up. It seemed very gay too.

Stephanie sat down on the toilet so that she wouldn't hurt her sore butt and closed her eyes. She tried to project herself to a place far away from here. She prayed to her dark lord Satan, who she wasn't really all that sure existed. But her new-age prayers would never be answered. Stephanie was stuck here for the next fifteen to twenty five years.

"Alright ladies." Imogen announced. "I'll give it to you straight. I'm going to pimp you out to the highest bidder and use you as drug mules. It's either that, or I let the Nazis, Bikers, Cholas and the Homegirls fight over you."

The girls hung their heads. They knew they didn't have much choice. Yuki wished that Red Lucy had taught her about 'the smuggling drugs for you Daddy' part of the prison course.

"Yes, Daddy." They replied meekly in unison.

"Ginger." Whispered Imogen.

She gestured her closer with the finger. Anna crawled across the bed. Imogen lent forward and puckered her lips.

"Give me a kiss, baby."

"Yes, Daddy." Respond the redhead.

Yuki paid attention to the act the same way that Ana had watched her eat ass. Red Lucy hadn't really taught her about kissing another woman. Maybe she forgot that lesson too.

She was beginning to think maybe she'd been conned. After all, the woman was a convict. But, to be fair, Yuki imagined it wasn't that far from how she used to kiss her husband.

Ana put her mouth in Imogen's and they sucked each other's tongues. 'Just pretend its a cute twink' She repeated in her mind. 'Just pretend its a cute twink!'

She found that she didn't mind this actually. Anna sat up and put her arms around Imogen. It felt good to be close to someone. Imogen did the same.

"Aww, you wanna snuggle." Purred Imogen as she stroked the slender woman's hair. "What a good pet."

Imogen held Ana in her arms as she explained the task she wanted her to perform.

"I want you to smuggle drugs for me."

Ana didn't want to commit a crime and lose any chance of an appeal. Or worse, face severe punishment. But she also knew she needed to survive here. And that meant she had to do everything that the mean tom girl wanted. After all, she was her property now.

"How do you want me to do that, Daddy?" Asked Ana meekly.

"You've probably got a rich lawyer friend or something right?"

Ana was still angry that her uptight lawyer was unable to get her off. Perhaps this would be a way to pay her back in kind. If she didn't work for her in the courtroom, she'd work for her now that she was in prison. Part of her hoped that the counselor would be caught with the contraband and sent to the same hell.

"Yes, Daddy." Replied Ana with a cruel simper.

She kissed her mistress on the cheek.

"My lawyer might as well start working for me. She didn't before."

Imogen giggled and pinched Ana's nose.

"I hear that, baby." Chuckled the street racer as she pecked the woman on the forehead.

Stephanie took her head out of her hands. She looked around the cell and to the hall outside.

All she could see around her were sapphics in heat. It wasn't strictly sex either. Girls dressed up as other girls, women kissed and hugged each other. Even the ones who weren't hooking up and just making conversation were being much more intimate than they would be on the outside.

It was certainly a culture shock for the previously straight as a nail Stephanie. She had no idea where to look. Maybe there was something to the rumors you would here on the outside after all. Steph turned back to Imogen and prodded her nose up.

"Are all the girls here really lesbians? Is that really true?"

Imogen giggled as she took turns kissing each of her new playthings.

"Of course it is. There are no boys here. How else do you think we're gonna get our kicks?"

She licked Yuki's face between speaking.

"I mean, I'm bi, but what are you gonna do?"

"But all of them?" Replied Steph in disbelief.

Imogen thought for a moment.

"Well, not the Mob Wives. Or the Christians. But I think they're both just frigid. So, maybe not all, but definitely, most."

She pecked Yuki on the forehead again.

"There's no way to escape it though, so you might as well embrace it."

Stephanie recoiled in disgust.

"Ew."

Imogen smiled cruelly. She got off on thinking about how uncomfortable the straight girl was right now.

"I'm just giving you some friendly advice, Delgado."

Stephanie groaned. She couldn't stand being referred to by her last name by everyone.

"It's Steph. Please, don't call me Delgado."

The street racer giggled.

"Alright Stephy, whatever you want."

She turned back to Ana and spanked her on the ass.

"Okay Ginger, you can go back to dancing for me."

Imogen turned to her other two slaves and pointed to them.

"Wolfie, can you rub my feet while Blondie rubs my back? I'm just still so tense after that long bus ride."

They knew that was true, because their muscles were sore from it as well.

But they knew they didn't have a choice.

"...Yes Daddy..." They replied in unison.

Ana danced suggestively, waving her booty and her tiny tits around for the whole block to see. It humiliated her, but she figured it was easier this way. All the other girls looked like they would shank her for a packet of doritos if they could. Yuki reluctantly rubbed the girl's stinky feet and Ashley enthusiastically massaged her back.

Imogen leaned back in her bunk and put her arms behind her head.

"Ahhh, this is the life, isn't it Steph?" She remarked through a cheeky grin.

Stephanie wasn't as convinced. She hated it here. She wanted nothing more than to get out.

But she knew she couldn't. She was a dangerous radical who couldn't be trusted on the streets.

The goth girl put her head in her hands again and sobbed quietly on an empty and rumbling stomach. Not to mention, a throbbing and aching clitirous and a swollen and sore backside.

6

Maya Mukherjee sat in her cell sobbing. Gina Vasquez styled the Indian girl's lucious black hair, while the gang leader's lover, Alicia Cortez, caked her Indian face in makeup. The cruel prison mommy painted her eyes with so much smuggled eyeliner that she looked like a racoon. Her lips were coloured a bright rosey red, as were her cheeks. It contrasted beautifully with her caramel complexion.

Alicia had Spanish script crudely inked into her face along with other gang tattoos. Like Gina, she also had a teardrop under her eye. Maya rarely asked her mistresses about their past, but she could tell that Alicia had only taken up body art since she got locked up.

Her DD breasts stretched her tight prison issue tank top to its limits. Both women were muscular and athletic but Alicia in particular was built like a wrestler.

On the outside, she was an MMA fighter until the night she accidentally killed someone in a drunken brawl. Now she was a murderer serving a life sentence. She since did what was needed to survive and escape slavery.

The mean girl had always been a bully, but prison had since turned her bad. Now Alicia walked down the halls hand in hand with the leader of the Cholas. Gina Vasquez was a contract killer for the Cartels who operated in the South Western states of America. The way she killed people made her look like a Batman villain. She was Columbian and took tradition very seriously.

She was still killing people inside, since she was a lifer with nothing else left to lose. If anyone wanted someone else snuffed out or otherwise 'dealt with', they went to Gina to get it done.

Anyone whose heart could grow warm in her presence, had a soul as black as Gina Vasquez did.

Gina combed and stroked Maya's hair. It was clear that these unending grooming sessions were why the girl still presented so well. She might be grateful, if she was given any choice in her appearance. The prison bullies peckered their lips and giggled as they played with her like a doll.

"You're our little caramel dolly." Teased the hitwoman stroking her hair.

Alicia planted a sloppy wet kiss on the Indian girl's cheek. She was careful not to smudge the makeup she worked hard on.

"That's why we're going to dress you up!" Chirped the martial artist excitedly, a cruel smile spread across her face.

Maya sniffled. She just wanted to wear the regular uniform. She didn't want to see what the latest slutty outfit they made for her was. But the eco-terrorist knew she didn't have a choice.

The girl hung her head.

"What's my present, mommy?" She asked Alicia obediently.

The latina woman's eyes widened. She pulled a laundry sack from underneath her bag and rummaged through it to find the outfit her girls in the garment factory sewed and smuggled out for her.

Alicia held up a pair of orange prison pants cut down and sewn into hot pants. Maya blushed at the revealing bottoms. The chola girl couple smiled with lust.

"Here are the pants!" Drooled Alicia.

She placed them on the floor and searched through the sack again. The women pulled out an orange scrub tunic cut into a makeshift bikini top. Alicia held it out in front of Maya. It made the girl even more squeamish.

"And here's the top!"

It was by far the most revealing outfit they had made her wear to date.

Gina grabbed both of the young woman's shoulders and spun her around. She lent forward from the meek cellmate who massaged the sadistic killer's back, and slurped a wet kiss right on the girl's lips.

"This is our present to you, pequeña dolly." Whispered Gina cruelly. "To celebrate your official sentencing! Now you'll be spending the next eight to fifteen shacked up with us."

Alicia moaned and giggled sensually. She roughly embraced her from behind.

"We're gonna have so much fun with you!"

Maya sniffled again.

"Thank you, mommy. Thank you, daddy." She sobbed obedentialy.

Alicia spanked her Indian ass. Maya yelped.

"Now, put it on for us, puta. We don't have time for snitches."

It was clearly that ironically, at least in part, Maya and her friends' current treatment came from their decision to testify against their childhood friend - All just to shave five or ten years from the sentences that they rightfully deserved to serve. The old saying ran true in prison. 'Snitches get stitches.' The only way around that was if the snitches became bitches.

The four eco-terrorists decided to go with the latter.

Maya sniffled and sighed with shame, but did what she was ordered. She slipped out of the slutty dress uniform that they had previously "made" for her. It had one of the sleeves cut off and revealed far too much of her side boob to make her comfortable. The bikini would show more.

Maya stood there in nothing but her panties. Her owners never allowed her the comfort of shoes. Her caramel skin and perky light brown nipples glimmered with sweat under the dim light in the cell. She made her mistress' mouths water.

As she changed outfits in front of everyone, the brunette Clara Worley tried to ignore it. She focused on rubbing Gina's back. On one hand, the woman's cruelty made her sick. But on the other, she was relieved that so far, she had been spared from most of it.

Clara was a typical white yuppie who thought the rules didn't apply to her.

It was bad enough that she hit and killed someone while drunk at 215mph, but Clara didn't do herself any favors by antagonizing Judge Torres. It was enough for the sapphic and perverted judge to send her here for ten years, with all the worst women in the country.

But as long as she massaged them, bathed them and occasionally, when she was asked, serve them orally, they mostly kept her protected. It seemed that they were content with satisfying their cruelty on the eco-terrorist who turned states.

Maya pulled up the orange hot pants and slipped the matching cloth bikini top over her breasts.

She reluctantly flaunted herself in front of the women, because she knew by now it was what they expected. The whole time she grumbled to herself and cursed Stephanie in her mind.

She was unable to take responsibility for her own involvement in the attack which left six innocents dead.

'At least that bitch is here now too.' She thought, ignorant that Stephanie was substantially better off than she was. 'That uptight cow won't survive twenty five years in this hell.'