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It didn't seem right. She'd rather that it be destroyed than fall into the hands of those macho losers.
"I miss my wheels." She said somberly, before hitting the table with her clenched fist.
"Bastards are gonna sell it at an auction."
Mabel put her hand on Imogen's to comfort her.
"Aww. There, there, love. If you help me with my problem, maybe I'll help you with yours."
Imogen looked up in surprise.
"You will?"
The crime boss smiled.
"Us Reilly's look after our friends."
Margot groaned at the other end of the table. This tomboy street racer had only been in prison five minutes and already Mabel was treating her better than she had ever treated her own daughter-in-law.
"Hang on, Ma. What do you mean you'll help her with her problem?"
Mabel sighed with frustration.
"Well obviously I'll get Jason to buy it, love."
Margot groaned again. That was easy for Mabel to say. It wasn't her money.
"But Ma..."
But Mabel waved away her protests.
"You can arrange that, can't you?"
Margot sighed and hung her head in defeat. She knew that there was no arguing or bartering with her.
"Yes, Ma." She responded meekly.
Mabel looked back at Imogen and smiled. She put her palm back over the girl's hand.
"But yer just be sure not to let me down." She said, her smile thinly veiling her warning. "Because that wouldn't be good for anyone."
Imogen was playing with the big girls now. She had passed the point of no return, and now she knew for sure that there was no turning back.
10
Mabel Reilly panted heavily and wiped the sweet from her brow as she toiled in the tropical heat. She didn't at all miss the chain gang during her time away from prison. The hotels she had been interned in during her many trials were far preferable to this. As was her former job in the kitchen. The mob wives had that racket, but Mabel thought they were good company. The two factions certainly had the closest and friendliest relationship in the prison. In a way, Mabel's Mob were to the Mob Wives what the Bikers were to the Aryans.
Mabel hated every second of the eight hours she was forced to do this every day.
It was ridiculous that she was here. A fifty-nine year old woman was not suited to hard labor in the quarry - But Mercy had meant to make her pay for breaking her heart and almost getting her fired - Or worse; Arrested.
That's why she was here, breaking rocks in the hot sun and humid conditions. She had been put on quarry duty indefinitely - Until a time when Mercy was satisfied enough that she'd learned her lesson. Mabel's arthritis made the already heavy pickaxe that much harder to swing. And the chains around her wrists and ankles baked and irritated her sensitive skin.
They never gave her any more water and her throat was always parched. Her uniform was tied down around her waist and her sweat soaked tank top was practically transparent - As were all the forlorn girls condemned to this sadistic chain gang. Clover and Rose were there too. Mabel wasn't able to stop herself from this fate, but she would be damned if she had to suffer it alone.
Clover was a strong girl who was loyal and a hard worker. Whereas Rose was the reason Mabel was even in prison. The crime boss had pulled strings to get them here. She knew that Clover was loyal and would do most of the hard work. And she wanted Rose to suffer the same way that she was suffering.
Rose was happy to take the punishment. She wanted to be absolved of her mistake that landed both of them in prison for life. But Clover was far from happy. She groaned and whispered expletives under her breath as she slaved away breaking boulders with her pickaxe. But she wouldn't complain. She'd keep her nose down and do what she had to. It came with the territory.
A shotgun wielding Officer Red supervised the chain-gang with a small squad of other officers. She chewed her gum as she paced around the group and glared at the women with sapphic lust. This was her absolute favourite job to do in the whole prison. There was nothing she loved better than watching spoiled bad girls having to work hard in the hot sun.
The Nazi girls were all there too. And so were the bikers. Mercy wouldn't ever let them choose another job. Zoey toiled and sweltered as she lifted her axe and brought it down into the rock. The chains were so heavy, even for a strong girl like her. It made the already difficult task harder than it should have been. She looked to Amber, who was sweating like a pig and panting heavily. The nazi punk maiden was obviously having a hard time doing the work. And they'd only been at it for two hours.
"This is all the Jews fault!" Groaned Zoey. "Them and their fucking zionist courts!"
A guard responded to Zoey's statement by giving her backside a good hard lash with a whip.
The afrikaner yelped in pain.
"Agh!"
Zoey almost dropped her pickaxe. She wouldn't be sitting down that afternoon. Red smirked sadistically as her subordinate cracked the whip. It didn't matter that she was on the nazi's payroll - She was a nasty bitch and enjoyed the show all the same. Besides, she had to keep up appearances.
"Pipe down there, Van Houten." Barked Red through her cruel grin. She rested her shotgun under her arm. "You know talkin's forbidden while on duty."
Zoey whimpered and put her back into it. She stewed with resentment at the punishment she was rightfully receiving. Zoey couldn't help but think that Bobby had it easy in the hole. At least she didn't have to be here breaking rocks. It truly was awful.
At least they had their bitches. The cruel Nazis had strong armed the girls into suffering with them.
Taylah and the rest of the prissy petite young women they had collected for their harem all toiled away breaking big rocks into little ones. They were having an especially hard time of it. Spoiled and pampered girls like them were not used to working hard, or with their hands. This labor was back breaking. They sobbed and wailed as they baked in the heat and swung axes into boulders. Taylah was still trying to process what she saw back in the cafeteria. Their entire plan to get back at Stephanie had blown up completely in their faces. Taylah was here, breaking rocks in the quarry, and Steph had it easy in the sweat shop.
It didn't make sense to her, but the work kept her from focusing on it too much - Least she get a painful crack on the backside. She knew the Aryans would put her to "work" with the bikers after they finished here, and a red, sore and swollen butt would make that more uncomfortable than it needed to be.
Taylah relinquished herself to her predicament and swung away with her pickaxe, before wiping the dripping sweat from her brow. She just wished that they didn't have to be chained. It made everything so much harder.
The nazis wondered where Myra was. They hadn't gotten the memo yet. A heavily inked redhead biker girl chained to Amber swung away at heavy boulders. She was Misty Furneaux, Myra's number two. Her fair skin baked in the hot sun. At least they allowed her sunskin - But she didn't like how the guards re-applied it to their bodies every few hours.
Amber whispered to Misty as she worked away at the rocks.
"Psst. Where's Myra?"
Misty swung her axe into a boulder.
"The Pres got herself thrown in the hole so you'll have to deal with me" She whispered back.
"Lucky bitch." Replied Amber, swinging into a boulder of her own.
She was only half joking. The Hole was horrible, but at least you got out of work duty.
Mabel so dearly wanted to be able to make Rose and Clover do all the work for her - But the guards would surely notice her slacking off. The aged Irish beauty's arms ached so much from the work. Her skin glistened with sweat as her sagging tits bounced with every swing. She panted and moaned and sobbed, along with everyone else.
Red was on Mabel's payroll too. The corrupt slut was in bed with everyone - Figuratively and literally. The Irish beauty knew that the guard couldn't show favorites, but after only two hours of this back breaking work, she just couldn't suffer anymore. Her sore arms trembled with the pickaxe. She placed the tool on the ground and held her weight with it as she wiped the sweat from her brow.
"Officer Red." She called out, waving her hand in the air and panting heavily.
Red turned to the aging woman and groaned in irritation. She hated it when the inmates had to take bathroom breaks, and she figured that a woman like Mabel might have a weakened bladder.
"What is it, Reilly?" She groaned.
Mabel battered her beautiful green Irish eyes and spoke in a faux sweetly tone. Maybe if she was nice to her, she might show her leniency.
"Please, luv. Won't yer let me take a moment to rest? I'm a nearly 60 year old woman don't yer know?"
"Hmm. Let me think." Replied Red facetiously, as she looked up and tapped her lips with her finger.
"No. Forget it." Barked the vicious bitch. Red had no sympathy for anyone.
"Get back to breaking rocks like everyone else, grandma."
Mabel was above begging - But only just. If it wasn't for all the other inmates around her, she'd lick each of the guard's feet to get out of this. It never occurred to her that she had brought this on herself through her wicked and evil life.
"But me arthritis is hurtin' my joints!" Pleaded Mabel in protest.
Red groaned again. Mabel was really starting to piss her off. All she wanted was a nice obedient chain gang of little convicts who were paying their debt to society through forced labor.
"My name might be Red but this ain't the Red Cross. I don't care. I want to see a nice, even pile of gravel by the time we're done here."
If Mabel couldn't beg, she'd bribe. If money didn't work, maybe she could buy her with ass. Rose's ass sprung to mind, considering all of this was her fault.
"I'll double what I'm already payin' ye. I swear. I'll even let yer fuck sweet little Rosie over there."
Rose wasn't consulted about this arrangement, but was in no position to complain as she sobbed and chipped away at a boulder
Red was losing her patience. Steam began to billow from her eyes and her tone became blatantly aggressive. She practically growled back at Mabel.
'If you don't lift that pickaxe in five seconds I'll whip your ass raw, bitch!"
Mabel couldn't believe that the nasty bitch could actually be this cruel. Her request was perfectly reasonable. It wasn't like she expected to get out of it entirely. The harsh woman held back the tears in her eyes. She couldn't afford to appear weak infront of either her underlings or her enemies.
She groaned and brandished her pickaxe once more. The deadly woman swung away at the boulder and grumbled back at the cruel guard.
"Fine. I hope ye don't treat yer mother this way."
Red rolled her eyes.
"My mother isn't a degenerate whore like you."
If Mabel said she wasn't offended, she'd be lying. One thing is for sure, she wouldn't be lining that ungrateful bitch's pocket anymore. She swallowed her pride and went back to breaking boulders.
Zoey smiled at the sight. It gave her a momentary release from her own mutual suffering and punishment. She liked it whenever any of her enemies were in pain or strife. Ironically, in another life, perhaps she would have made the perfect prison guard.
But then Zoey caught sight of something else; Chief Mercy's UTV kicking up dust along the rudimentary dirt road, and that sure wiped the smile off the Nazi slut's face. But Officer Red wasn't pleased to see her either. Her previously ecstatic and cruel grin slowly melted into a crooked frown.
The Chief Guard had obsteinably come to inspect the prisoners - But really she came to watch the nazis suffer, as she did everyday. But this time, she also wanted to visit her scorned lover.
She didn't know why. Maybe she hoped that Mabel would apologize to her. Not that it would make a difference. But maybe, she just wanted to see the bitch that broke her heart suffer as much as her hated Aryans.
Mercy's cock grew hard in her black thong at the sight of all the bad girls breaking rocks. She felt sorry for the Divas that Mabel and the Nazis had roped into this detail, but she accepted that it was the reality of life here. Mercy knew that the prison was in dire need of reform.
That's why she had pledged to support the Greens Candidate, Dr. Gail Klein, in the upcoming state election. Tucked under the sun visor of her UTV, was a scantily clad picture of the bespectacled blonde and busty intellectual politician. Since the popularity of the sultry governor had grown, Doctor Klein had been reduced to sinking to the same kind of tasteless campaigning. The state Senator was a bigger girl, with a wide smile and love handles that just made her that much more delicious.
But Mercy wasn't just voting for her because she thought the third-party candidate was attractive. That would be far too vacant, although to say it didn't influence the decision entirely would be a lie. Gail Klein had a radically reformist stance on prison and crime that aligned with her own politics. The senator had pledged to decriminalize narcotics and prositution in the state. She also promised to pardon those convicted of such crimes.
Perhaps even more radical was her plan to restructure her state's prisons on the European model. Cells would be spacious and equipped with household appliances. The decor and architecture would be redesigned to produce a "non-confronting" and "anxiety free" environment. Bars would be painted pink to help give inmates a "calming, non-intimidating environment."
Prisoners would be given conjugal visits and even allowed monitored temporary leave in the custody of friends or family. She would have the inmates in group therapy to work out their differences and enroll them in both art and educational courses. Chain gangs would still exist, but the girls would plant trees and pick up litter instead of breaking rocks.
Mercy's political ideals were perhaps a bit too optimistic, but she held them fiercely regardless.
It was another reason why Red hated her. Prison was where bad girls went to suffer and pay for their crimes - Not paint pictures together and put flowers in each other's hair.
Red didn't want to imagine a scenario where the Greens won the state election. If that happened, she thought they might as well throw in the towel and let the Chinese take over. To her, such radical reforms in policy would be akin to Communism.
The ex-military brat was a Libertarian voter through and through. If it was up to her, all prisons would be privatized and run for profit, and the big bad government wouldn't be able to decide what counted as "cruel and unusual punishment." Then, maybe the inmates would really start to pay.
Mercy stopped her cart and got out, slinging a shotgun of her own over her back.
'Can't be too careful' She thought to herself, even though it wasn't like the inmates could go anywhere. The island was nigh inescapable.
Roughly 65 square miles across, the tropical offshore detention center is mostly nothing but jungle in all directions, except for the small lot that now housed the quarry. The many rivers that once ran through the island have since been dammed up or diverted.
The ones that remain, are deep with sharp rocks, violent rapids and harsh drops which would make any attempt to traverse them without the kinds of airboats used by the all girl mercenaries who patrol the jungle, coast and waterways.
The Prison Complex itself is built into the middle of the tropical jungle. The only way on and off the island by land, is the mile long bridge that runs over the self sustaining Hydro-Electric Dam and attaches Dyker's Island to the rest of the Venetian Islands.
This Dam provides the island with all the power it needs, however there are backup generators in the sub-basement level and solar panels on the roof incase of power failure.
The nineteen Guard Posts, including the one on Lighthouse Point off the north coast of the island are not manned by SWAT teams, who are reserved for security and riot response within the complex itself. Instead they are manned by teams of elite Amazonian Mercenaries - Dyker's Island Patrol Force - drawn from around the world, as of course, no men are permitted to step foot on the island.
These Contractors have an arsenal of the latest weapons and equipment at their disposal. Lighthouse Point serves to be their main base of operations on the island.
Three years ago, they repealed a Colombian Death Squad who infiltrated the island from Cuba on a mission to break Gina Vasquez out of prison - Ironic considering the same island was used as the staging ground into the Cuban Bay of Pigs almost 60 years ago.
Mercy marched towards the line of whimpering, hard working inmates. Her cock grew harder in her pants with every step. She just couldn't deny the beautiful sight that was so many sweat drenched girls chained together laboring away at boulders. She especially savored the sour look on Zoey's face as she swung her pickaxe.
Mercy could tell from her stance that she'd already been whipped once. It was clear the sensation of her blue canvas pants was irritating her nazi ass everytime she leaned back to swing into a rock. A cruel smile formed across the Jewish transgirls face as she stepped closer to the chaingang.
"Officer Rodriguez." Called Mercy as she pointed to the guard who was closest to Zoey.
"Yes, Chief?" Responding to the latina beauty.
"Van Houten looks a little comfortable there. Her uniform is obviously irritating her sore backside." Said Mercy as she feigned concern. "Please remove her pants so it doesn't impede her ability to work."
Zoey froze in place. A chill ran up her spine and a knot tightened in her stomach. She started to turn purple as a look of horror fell across her face. She couldn't be humiliated like that. Not here. Not infront of the Bikers, and certainly not in front of Mabel. It would make her look weak. She dropped her pickaxe, and protested, even though she knew it would earn her another whipping.
"What?! No! It's not that bad! Honestly!" Cried the Afrikaner woman in desperation.
But she was right. It did earn her anothing whipping. Rodriguez lashed her twice with the bullwhip, just to make sure she knew her place.
"Ugh!" Yelped Zoey in pain.
Mercy's smile grew wider.
"What about now? I bet your ass is just throbbing!"
Rodriguez stepped behind Zoey and in a single movement, pulled down her pants and underwear. Zoey cheeks were flushed with red, as her blonde bushy pussy and tight aryan ass were exposed to all around her. Rodriguez couldn't get the pants off without undoing Zoey's leg irons, so she left them down around her ankles.
Zoey was frozen in place with embarrassment, too terrified of another caning to resist.
She covered her butt with one hand and her pussy with the other. The other girls were too busy working hard to gawk, but they all saw her. Misty and her bikers couldn't stop from giggling. It made her think that, maybe, Zoey wasn't as tough as she thought. Maybe they didn't have to play second fiddle to the nazis.
Maybe, the bikers could run the West Wing by themselves.
As Amber swung her axe into the hard rocks of the quarry, she had similar thoughts of her own. She thought that Zoey was such a hard-ass when she first arrived, but now she wasn't sure. How could she just stand there and take it without a fight? Amber thought it was a pathetic display that made the whole "Sisterhood" look weak. She knew that whole shameful display would give the bikers ideas that the nazis didn't want them to get.
Maybe, Amber would need to step in and restore order to "The Sisterhood".
But Mabel was especially delighted at the misfortune of her enemy. Sure, aged muscles and arthritis made the hard physical work unbearable, but the sight of that cruel nazi slut with her pants around her akles certainly brightened up her otherwise dreadful morning. A big wide smile spread on her face, and her eyes widened because she knew that Zoey was easy pickings now.
