Dyker's Island Ch. 09-10

She'd embarrassed the Aryans enough that she suspected they wouldn't protect her. Mabel had wanted to gut the bitch as soon as she laid eyes on her. She even stashed a specially sharpened shiv in her cell just for the occasion.

Red had to admit, as much as she hated her, she liked when Mercy was mean. The nasty slut's clit throbbed at the sight, and she couldn't help but rub it through her pants.

"Fuckin' hell, Chief. Why can't you be like this all the time? That's so fucking hot!"

Mercy groaned and ignored her rival. Rodriguez whipped Zoey's ass again, and this time struck the back of her hand as well.

"Ow!" Yelped Zoey, as she rubbed her hand.

"Get back to work, you nazi bitch!" Barked Rodreguiz, as she pushed the pickaxe into the Afrikaner's hand.

Tears formed in Zoey's eyes. It took every ounce of will to stop herself from bawling one out right then and there, but somehow, she managed it. But she still sobbed, as she felt the wind against the hairs on her cunt. She knew that she had to do something cruel and terrible when she got back, or, she'd either end up a bitch or in a body bag.

Amber shook her head. She and the other Aryans looked at their leader with judgemental eyes. Fear gripped Zoey's body for the first time in a long time. She didn't want to die in prison - At least, not yet. And certainly not violently.

Misty scoffed as she broke down an especially large boulder. She had heard about how Myra cried and begged not to go to the hole, but this was something different. Zoey didn't try to fight back. She made no attempt to resist - She just stood there and took it like a little bitch.

Misty gently leant her head towards Amber and whispered to her with an unimpressed tone.

"You really want to keep taking orders from Captain Bareass over there?

Amber peered back for a moment at her humiliated leader. Zoey was a red-eyed sobbing mess, and she looked ridiculous breaking rocks with her pants down around her ankles. She turned back to Misty.

"Not sure that I do, Furneaux."

Misty smiled deviously.

"Maybe... We can help each other out." Responded the biker girl with an equally devious wink.

Amber winked back in acknowledgement, then went back to work and pretended like she wasn't planning her boss's prison shanking. Soon she'd be the top dog. That suited her just fine.

Mercy looked towards Red and kept things civil and professional. She was short and to the point.

"Any of the other inmates giving you problems, Red?"

Red was far less mature than Mercy.

"Your girlfriend asked me to let her have a break." She snickered, pointing in Mabel's direction. "Apparently her tired old bones ache." Scoffed Red. "Too bad I say. She's here to suffer."

Mercy turned to look at Mabel. The Irish woman battered her eyes at her, hoping desperately to earn back her favor so she didn't have to keep this horrible work post.

"Is that so?" Whisked Mercy, as she began to step towards her jilted ex-lover.

She tapped the butt of her shotgun against Mabel's chained ass. The Irish beauty stopped breaking rocks and turned around, looking up at her with a wide but vacant smile.

"What can I do for you luv?" She said, apparently expecting a warm reception.

But Mercy's attitude towards her was anything but warm. To be honest, she didn't know what she was intending to do when she approached her, but hearing the cold Irish bitch acting so cocky around her really got her blood boiling. Clearly, Mabel was on a high from seeing Zoey so utterly humiliated. Mercy just knew how to stop that.

In a fit of fury, Mercy snatched the whip from the guard behind her and lashed Mabel's tender backside with it.

"Ow!" Yelped the woman. "What'd I do ta' piss yer off?"

"You spoke to me on duty without being spoken to or putting your hand up."

Mabel groaned.

"I suppose yer still mad at me. That's understandable, luv."

But her charm didn't work on Mercy. Not anymore.

"Red tells me you asked for a break?"

Mabel nodded.

"Oh, yes, dearie. Please, would you be so kind? Me arthritis is really hurtin' me joints. I'm a nearly 60 year old woman, don't you know? I know I look good for me age, but I'm no spring chicken."

It was obvious to Mercy that the aging woman was desperate for some reprieve. She could see the pleading in her eyes, and hear the desperation in her voice.

Mercy looked over the parallel lines of inmates as they slaved away breaking rocks, then looked back at Mabel.

"I don't think so." Responded Mercy cruelly. "It wouldn't be fair on the other inmates. They don't get any breaks."

Mabel's jaw dropped. She didn't expect Mercy to be this bitchy. She was supposed to be the nice one. Her heart pounded harder in her chest as she started to realize that maybe, she couldn't just talk her way out of quarry duty. But her arthritis ached so much - She couldn't imagine being made to work for the full eight hours without rest.

"Just ten minutes, please. It's all I'm asking for." Pleaded the Irish woman desperately. "Just let me joints rest up a bit. Let me 'ave some water. I'm not expectin' to get out of it, yer put me here for a reason - But yer seriously can't expect a woman of my age to carry on like this."

"Why's that?" Scoffed Mercy. "Why should you get special treatment just because you're old? That doesn't sound fair to me."

Mercy's cock grew harder as she saw the tears form in Mabel's eyes.

"Please, luv. Please. I'm begging yer. Let me sit down and 'ave some water."

"Did you ask Officer Red here? What did she say?"

Mabel sighed and hung her head.

"I did. She said no."

A cruel and sadistic smile spread across Mercy's lips.

"Then that's my answer too."

Rodriguez lashed Mabel with the bullwhip. She winced and yelped.

"Ow!"

"Get back to work, Reilly! You've worn out your rope with me!" Barked Mercy unsympathetically.

Mabel groaned and put her back into it, resigned to her task at hand. Her joints ache so badly, and they weren't even halfway done. The only thing that kept her going was the thought of Imogen Harper. Her boyish stud body. Her cute emo hair and tasteful body art. Mabel had some eyeliner that she thought the girl might appreciate as a gift. Hopefully, Imogen would wear it for her.

The chain gang slaved and sweated away for hours. The clanking of their pick axes formed a natural rhythm as they pounded away at the rocks. Every few hours, they were given a ten minute break, during which the guards would reapply sunscreen to the inmates by lathering it over the inmate's exposed skin. A particularly unpleasant process - For the inmates, that was. The guards were quite partial to it.

Mercy made sure that she was the one who applied it to Zoey's bare, red and swollen backside. She wasn't gentle. The cream stung so much against where the bullwhip had lashed her. It made Zoey cry and moan more - Which inturn, made her gang think less of her. Mercy smeared it all over her womanhood, and then made sure to rub it into her legs.

"Wouldn't want that precious aryan skin getting burned, would we, Van Houten?" Teased Mercy ironically.

Red lathered Misty down with the sunscreen. The biker babe groaned, sighed and rolled her eyes as she felt the mean guards cold hands down her tank top. Her boobs were covered. They wouldn't get burned, but Red just wanted an excuse to grope her. Misty didn't complain - She knew better than that - But she didn't cry like a little bitch the way that Zoey did.

Amber was similarly irritated as Rodriguez took her pale arms and rubbed the cream into it. She knew that Zoey made all the other Aryans look weaker by extension. How would the other gangs possibly fear them if their current leader was whining, pleading and sobbing with her pants around her ankles?

If the Aryans didn't put Zoey in her place, they would all be fair game - Even from the bikers. Amber wasn't looking forward to watching out for shivs in her back, but she knew now that she'd have to after Zoey collectively humiliated them. Something had to be done, and she wasn't entirely sure if she could trust Misty - Or by extension Myra.

If they were the ones that did the deed, it would only serve to strengthen their reputation. Zoey was ruthless. Anyone who took her out would earn the fear or respect of the other gangs. Amber wasn't about to play second fiddle to a bunch of 'degenerate meth heads'. If it wasn't for their mutual incarceration - The two groups wouldn't have anything to do with each other.

'Most of them aren't even real Aryans' Thought the nasty nazi slut.

'It's gotta be me who takes care of this. Not some dirty biker bitch.'

After the cream had been applied, and each girl was re-hydrated, it was time for the girls to get back to work. By now, there were no more boulders. The hard working inmates had reduced it all to gravel with their tireless and back breaking labor. But the job was far from done - There were still four hours left until the shift ended.

Now came the daunting task of loading the gravel into trucks, so that it could be transported at the end of the week and shipped out to construction sites all over the state. Moving the rocks was almost as hard as breaking them. The girls were separated into three groups;

First, the Bikers' shoveled the gravel into wheelbarrows. Then, when each one was full, the Aryans' would push the heavy barrows to the cargo trucks where a third group - Made up of the Irish and other unaffiliated inmates - Would load them.

It was organized to be as efficient as possible. The inmates didn't get any rest. As soon as each barrow was loaded and away, another girl came with a barrow of her own to take her place.

Four girls on each line would shovel the gravel in, and another four would shovel it out and into the trucks. They would have to load four trucks in four hours, and if any girl fell behind from fatigue and broke the rhythm, they earned a sound lashing. It was this part of the job that Clover was best at. It was why Mabel had forced her to suffer through it with her.

The girl shoveled like a damn machine. She did the work of four girls by herself. It meant that Mabel, Rose and Colleen didn't have to shovel as hard - They only had to look busy. Clover was happy to do it for Mabel, and she knew that Rose was hopeless at manual labor - But it really stuck in her craw that Colleen refused to put in her fair share and slacked off everytime it came to it.

Colleen was a strong girl with a cut and athletic body who spent all her free time at the gym. She was on the prison's Soccer team and Clover knew she could do the work before they got locked up, they dug into a bank together.

But Colleen had been rising in Mabel's favor, and Clover knew better than to make a problem. She swallowed her misgivings and sweated like a pig as she put her back into it. Her tank top was practically see through. The guards took great joy in watching her small, but ample breasts jiggle as she worked.

Zoey lagged behind the others as she pushed the cart. Her pants were still down around her ankles and it made it hard for her to keep a decent pace - And the wheelbarrow was just so heavy. Zoey's already sore backside was constantly lashed as she failed to keep up with the others - Rodriguez practically followed behind her up and down, whipping her bare ass the whole trip.

She held up the girls loading and unloading at either end, resulting in their backsides also being unfairly lashed repeatedly. It wasn't their fault they were lagging behind the rest - It was Zoey's - A fact that made her even less popular than she already was. Perhaps, it had been a deliberate decision from Mercy to turn the prison against Zoey.

Zoey was so far behind she held everyone else back. The chain gang sweltered in their hot busses, with nothing to do but watch the bare assed nazi load gravel into a truck with eigth other women, all of whom were soundly whipped as they worked. Half an hour after they should have all hit the showers, Zoey had finally finished.

Rodriguez pulled the nazi girl's pants up, and the cloth of her uniform stung and irritated her swollen butt. The nine women were finally handcuffed and led onto the bus, moaning quietly as they sat down on their unfairly sore and swollen butts.

The eight Bikers and Irish girls who'd been whipped because of Zoey's horrid work ethic, groaned and gritted their teeth as the vibration of the nylon seats stung their backsides.

As each bus left the quarry, the girls looked back in anger and fury at the blonde Afrikaner at the back. It was all her fault - And they wanted her to pay.

Zoey's heart pounded a mile a minute as her butt throbbed against the itchy seat. She shivered as she tried to control her breathing. It had taken her years to build up the reputation she had in prison as the baddest, meanest, scariest nazi on the block. But it had all been taken away from her in a matter of hours.

Her gang didn't respect her anymore. Neither did her allies - And to make matters worse, her enemies weren't afraid of her. She had never been so scared in her whole life - She was terrified and quaking in her nazi booties. Unless she thought of a way to get herself out of this, Zoey knew that within a week, she'd be somebody's bitch - Or worse - Have a shiv in her back.

But Zoey had one card left to play, and it was a good one. Afterall, she was in business with the Warden. She wasn't a fool. Zoey knew that she wasn't a crucial element of the equation - If she got whacked, Esther would just find another to take her place. But, she knew enough to drag the wicked woman down with her in her death throes.

As things stood, Zoey couldn't sink down any further in the food chain. If she blabbed before she caught a shank in her back, she knew that Mercy would gleefully lock the Warden's wrists in handcuffs. Esther Willis would not last a night in prison. Everyone would want a piece of her.

Zoey thought it was a long shot, but it was the only one she had.