tagNonConsent/ReluctanceGirls Can Be Cruel

Girls Can Be Cruel


Friday afternoon, not always the easiest time as many teachers will attest, but Miranda Collins had her pupils' full attention. Visual attention at least. No-one was paying much heed to the message -- the importance of time and place in the 'new realist' novels of the 1950s -- but the messenger, that was another matter. They were rapt, eyes fixed on Miranda as she held forth at the front of the class.

As for Miranda, she was perfectly aware her pupils were ogling rather than taking in the lesson. Understandable, of course, and something she'd grown used to when she came here. It was a prison after all! Not as if they'd be distracted by thoughts of the weekend, was it? Most of their time was spent in the cells and it was back there soon as the lesson was over. Her English Lit class was the highpoint of their week.

28 years old and fresh out of a messy divorce, the job was part of Miranda's mission to fire herself up, get her life going again. She hadn't worked in a while, hadn't been necessary with the amount her husband pulled down, and financially she still didn't need to (Mike's alimony was generous), but it wasn't about the money. Miranda was seeking confidence from the experience and it was paying off. It was empowering to be using her teaching qualification to earn her own money again. She'd been doing it for over three months now -- giving this weekly class at the Dax Groves Correctional Centre -- and she'd gotten very comfortable with the environment. She liked the place.

And she didn't in the slightest mind the guys concentrating on her physical charms. Quite the opposite - she enjoyed and played up to it. Not as if she was seriously trying to teach them anything these days, truth be told. No, Ruth had been totally right and Miranda was glad she'd listened to her best friend. She'd become quite capricious and blatant about the whole thing too. So much so that even Ruthie occasionally got a little shocked on hearing about her latest Dax exploits. A pleasing role reversal there!

"... all of which caused writers to want to explore these issues."

Still talking, Miranda turned and perched herself on her desk. She slowly crossed her legs. Cue another outbreak of drooling as her short, tight-fitting skirt rode teasingly up her thighs. She grinned, loving how every man in the room (and especially Roy!) was now staring lustfully at her gorgeous pins. Most of them had started fiddling around with themselves, she noticed, as was allowed under the 'rules' she'd instigated a few weeks ago. They had to be careful, though. No cumming! She glanced round to check if Billy, stood in his now accustomed position in the corner, was looking at her legs too. He was. Poor guy! She'd be strolling over there again shortly to give him a little more of her extra-special 'personal attention'.

Miranda frequently wore short skirts to the prison and today's was particularly provocative. More suitable for a night club really. Indeed the last time she'd worn it had been to go to a club. One of her girly nights out with Ruth. Cut several inches above the knee, it showed her (shapely) ass and her (lovely) legs off to perfection. It was very very sexy. Especially teamed with the ultra-sheer tights and the heels. Not content with this, Miranda was bra-less and wearing a rather dangerous top, skimpy and low cut, spaghetti straps, her luscious breasts partially exposed and threatening to almost tumble out from certain angles.

She looked hotter than hot -- a wet dream basically - and the affect on the men was palpable.

Miranda knew she was an extremely attractive woman, had been something of a trophy wife for the considerably older Mike, however her self-image had taken a blow with the discovery of his infidelity. She wanted to reaffirm herself as sexy and desirable but at the same time was feeling a little antagonistic towards the male of the species - perhaps it was this emotional mix which was driving her behaviour. No doubt there were more effective ways to boost her ego than spending every Friday afternoon 2.30 till 4.30 being lusted over at close quarters by a dozen or so men, better ways to amuse herself than teasing them the way she did, but Miranda couldn't think of any off hand. That the men in question had been (and would remain) incarcerated for years in a high security prison, cooped up without even the sniff of a woman only added to her enjoyment. She knew how sex-starved and frustrated these guys were and she relished playing the lead role in their fevered imaginations. She liked to imagine them locked in their cells at night, stroking themselves, fantasising about their gorgeous and unattainable English teacher, counting the days until the next class, living for these couple of hours even though all she mainly did was drive them crazy ... or rather more than that in the case of poor Billy, her treatment of whom verged on torture!

She hadn't started out intending to torment and sexually incite the inmates -- or not consciously anyway. She'd had idealistic notions about how teaching in a prison would help with offender rehabilitation and the like, but then her very first class she'd caught an exchange between two of the prisoners as they were filing out.

"Oh fuck. Did you clock that piece of ass?" grunted Roy Lennox.

Roy was a lifer (as they mostly were in the Dax), a big brute of a guy in his late twenties. He'd been inside for six years. The guy he was talking to, John Beak, was quite a bit older and had been an inmate for ever. Ditto his twin brother, Jim, who was also in Miranda's class.

"I did, Roy, I sure as hell did. Man, I had a hard-on the whole fucking time. What I wouldn't give to nail that! You know what I mean?"

Roy sniggered. "How many classes we got with the horny little bitch?"

"Least twenny," grinned John.

"Jesus Shit, I'm gonna die!"

"Yeah, for fuck's sake, hard enough in here without ..."

Out of earshot now, so Miranda didn't get to hear any more.

Mulling it over later, she felt strangely excited. Week one and they were already thinking like that -- wow. She was there to teach them English, of course, but she couldn't help speculating on what was really going on in their minds during her class!

At lunch the next day with Ruth, Miranda fielded questions about how her first day had been.

"So it went okay then?"

"Yeah, definitely. It was a breeze."

Ruth looked surprised. "A breeze? Teaching English to a bunch of hard-ass convicts? Doesn't sound like a breeze to me, Miranda."

Miranda smiled. "I think, you know, with me being a woman ..." She took a sip of her wine.

"What? That makes em behave better?" asked Ruth.

"Kind of."

"How d'you mean?"

"Well it's not what they're used to, is it?" And Miranda told her friend about the conversation she'd overheard between the two inmates.

"Oh my!" exclaimed Ruth.

"Yeah, I know! I kinda thought they'd been more looking at me than listening, but I didn't realise it was like that."

Ruth grinned. "So not just being a woman, more about you also being incredibly pretty."

"Why thank you, Ruthie!"

"Almost as gorgeous as me, in fact," grinned Ruth.

Miranda laughed and playfully threw a piece of bread in her direction. They'd been firm friends since 18 years old (had met at college) and one reason for this was there was little to choose between them on looks. Ruth was a sultry brunette, Miranda a classic blonde, both of them very attractive. Both knew they were too. They'd had a whale of a time with the boys at college, often double-dating, and they enjoyed reminiscing about all that stuff even now.

"It's, um, both those things, I guess," said Miranda, thoughtfully. "These guys haven't gotten laid for years, remember. Gee, Ruth, can you imagine?"

Ruth giggled. "Hey you weren't wearing anything too tarty, Mindy, were you?"

"Nah. Just my denim mini-skirt and a bikini top. Nothing special."


Miranda pulled her tongue out. Score one.

"No but come on, Mindy, seriously."

Miranda smiled. "Okay seriously. I was demure as hell. Baggy pants, thick polo neck sweater. Hair back. Sensible shoes."

"Jeez, and they still got excited?"

"Yeah, well like I say. They've been deprived. Christ knows what effect I'd have if I did wear something a little sexy."


Miranda giggled. "At the very least. Wouldn't be fair, though, would it? Poor guys."

Ruth was also giggling. "Guess not."

She drank the rest of her wine, poured herself and Miranda another glass. "Be pretty mean, in fact," said Miranda. The two women looked at each other, then went back to their pasta and talked about other stuff - 'that bastard Mike' featuring quite strongly. The subject of Miranda's new job didn't crop up again until Ruth (whose turn it was) had settled the bill and they were about finished.

"Could be fun though, Mindy, couldn't it?"

"What could?"

"You know, maybe not looking quite so demure when you're teaching those prisoners of yours."

"Thought we agreed it'd be mean to do that?"

"Yeah, well, maybe they deserve it. Not exactly angels, are they? Murderers and rapists and all."

"Most of them, yeah."

"And it sounds like they won't be learning much anyway. Not if all they're gonna do is letch over you."

"Mmm. True."

"So, exactly. And it'd be a giggle. I mean, just think how you could tease the poor guys. You know, really wind em up! I'd do it if I were you. I'd mess with them big time."

Miranda, catching the mischievous expression on her friend's face, smiled and shook her head. "I bet you would as well!" Ruth had always been what they call a 'cock-tease' (Miranda well remembered her torturing all the boys in college!). Miranda enjoyed teasing too -- more than she cared to admit, in fact -- but Ruth was the undisputed mistress of the art and she was warming to her theme. "I would, honey. Come on, it's too good a chance to pass up. Bunch of sex-starved men who can look at you but can't touch. You can drive em nuts without hardly even trying. And if you do try a little bit ... lordy lordy just imagine! It'll be a scream. Plus you can share the fun with me, can't you? Regular update. Deal?"

"You're wicked, Ruthie, you know that?" laughed Miranda.


"Yeah, you."

"And what about you? Don't tell me you're 'miss sweet and innocent' all of a sudden. Remember little Pete Rogers? The college geek? Mmm, so now let me think. Who exactly was it who led him on something rotten, got the poor boy to do all her work, gave him nothing in return but blue balls? Was it Ruth Marquez? ... Or was it a certain Miranda Collins?"

"Okay okay," giggled Miranda. It was true. She'd really tormented poor Pete. Tormented him rather more than she'd ever let on to Ruth! And why? Well, mainly because she could. A delicious brand of power flows from being one of the prettiest girls in college and the Pete Rogers thing had been about exploring it. Or abusing it, would perhaps be more accurate!

"Right," grinned Ruth. "So what do you say?"

"Um, it's tempting, yeah. But I dunno."

"You're not scared of them losing it and attacking you or something, are you?"

"No way. I've been given this little wristband with a buzzer thing. Any problems I just press that and the guards would be there in no time. Plus the guys know if they step out of line even a tiny bit, and I report it, they'll be in deep shit. Probably get solitary and a few more years on the sentence or something. I'm safe as houses."

"So there you go. Perfect!"

Miranda smiled. "I guess it is. C'mon let's go. I'll think about it, okay?"

** ** ** **

She had thought about it and she ended up deciding Ruth was right. She was clearly having a big effect on the guys, yet they couldn't lay a finger on her (no matter how much they wanted to!). So why not be a bit naughty? Why not have some fun with the situation?

Nothing too obvious at first, though.

Her second class, Miranda had stuck with the baggy pants / polo neck / sensible shoes combo but this time the sweater was tight and made of thinner material. It left no reasonable doubt in the mind of an observer that she had fabulous breasts. As for the 'observers' she was particularly interested in, well it was very obvious they noticed. More than noticed, in fact!

She saw Ruth later that day for an early evening drink and they gossiped for a while about her friend's love life (man dangling on a string, as per usual). "Ruthie, you're terrible!" she giggled, hearing the latest on Simon, the current sap who was spending a fortune taking Ruth to the best restaurants and bars and clubs, showering her with gifts, but who she never quite went to bed with. She'd met him, as she did many wealthy older men, through her interior design business.

"Yeah well, you know," Ruth grinned. "I'm sleeping with Mark, aren't I? Can't cheat on him, can I? That'd be slutty."

"Does he know about Simon?" asked Miranda, genuinely curious.



"Mmm. So long as all I do with Simon is tease and lead him on, Mark's totally cool with it. Thinks it's funny actually. Poor guy frittering away his money on me and I don't even let him past first base!"

Miranda shook her head. Ruth's antics with men never ceased to amaze her. She didn't envy the guy who finally got her down the aisle -- nightmare wife she'd be. Not that there was any sign of this happening. Certainly wouldn't be this Mark, her current beau. 'The Body' as Ruth sometimes referred to him, and that pretty much summed up why she hung out with him. Give it six more months max, Miranda thought.

"I'm out with him tonight, as a matter of fact," continued Ruth.

"Who? Simon or Mark?"

"Simon. He's taking me to that new Italian that's just opened."


"Yep, that's the one. Little black dress, I think. Low cut. Then after he's drooled over my cleavage all evening, he'll be settling a bill in the high hundreds and driving me home. Quick snog in the car, then it's goodnight Simon and Mark'll be in bed waiting for me with a nice big hard-on."

Miranda couldn't help laughing. "Marquez, I can't believe you sometimes!"

Ruth giggled. "I know. Poor old Simon. I guess I ought to dump him ... I will dump him ... a couple more 'dates' and then I'll probably give him the bad news. There's this ultra-chic and deliciously expensive French restaurant I want to go to first. Plus I sense he's about to shell out for something involving diamonds -- don't want to miss out on that, do I? You know what they say, diamonds are a girl's best friend!"

"I just pity his poor wife," said Miranda, remembering Ruth saying once that Simon was married, unwelcome thoughts of Mike's infidelity bubbling up.

Ruth went silent and sipped her drink.

Miranda sensed the tension her remark had caused. It was an intrusion she was keen to push away - she didn't wholly approve of some of Ruth's behaviour but her friend was great fun and she didn't want to spoil the mood. "Not that it's your fault, Ruthie, he's the cheater. Just saying I pity the guy's wife, that's all"

Ruth smirked, back on track. "Yeah, and you'd pity her even more if you saw her. He showed me a photo once. God."

"Not a looker, then?"

"Let's just say it's deeply unsurprising how much her husband wants to get a hot girl like me into the sack. To give you an idea, can you remember Nancy Miller?"

Miranda nodded. Nancy had been a particularly plain and dumpy girl in the same year at college as herself and Ruth.

"Well, Simon's wife, she's like Nancy Miller at forty if you can imagine such a thing."

"That bad uh?" said Miranda.

"Yeah, pretty much."

They were interrupted at this point by two young guys coming over and trying to hit on them. Quite dishy, in fact, but Ruth and Miranda sent them packing, preferring to continue their girly gossip.

"God, Nancy Miller," said Ruth, after a short silence. "We made her life a misery, didn't we?"

"Er ... you did, I think you mean," protested Miranda.

"Oh. Was it just me then?"

"You know it was. I always felt kind of sorry for the poor thing. Must have been awful looking like that. She got enough grief from the boys, let's face it, and you just made things even worse."

"Guess I was pretty mean to her," said Ruth. "Just couldn't help it. You know, with the way she used to trot around after me and stuff. Like I was a goddess or something."

"Mmm. But you didn't have to make her actually call you Goddess, Ruthie, did you?"

Ruth giggled. "Sure you weren't just jealous, Mindy? That I had my own little slave and you didn't?"

"Ruth, just about the whole college knew about that domination thing you had going with Nancy. I mean, sitting there in the common room and making her kiss your feet, stuff like that, with everyone watching. You turned the poor thing into a complete laughing stock." Miranda was laughing too now. It was quite amusing how Ruth had treated the unfortunate Nancy.

"I so did, didn't I?" admitted Ruth. "Probably why she left before the final year. Poor Nancy. Bet she hates me even now."

"Oh god, Ruthie, do you remember when you put her on that starvation diet?"

Ruth chuckled into her dry martini. "Yeah. That was hilarious. Told her she was gross and she'd better stop eating or she'd never get a boyfriend. As if ... with a face like that!"

Miranda giggled. "So she stopped ... and then the wretched girl was starving hungry the whole time!"

"Didn't get any less fat either, did she?" sniggered Ruth. "Must have been genetic."

"Mmm, must have been. And then you and me and some of the others, we used to make the poor thing sit there and watch us eat lunch ... remember, Ruthie?"

"I do, honey, I do."

"So funny!"

"Mmm. So not just me after all when it came to tormenting Nancy Miller was it, Mindy?"

"Well like you say, it was pretty hilarious. Couldn't resist joining in."

"You more than joined in, Miranda, as I recall. The cake episode?"

"Yeah, I remember that." She'd one time, with Ruth looking on and laughing, tantalised Nancy Miller with a massive piece of chocolate cake. It was just after college, sitting around with Nancy in a classroom, and Miranda, knowing the poor girl was famished having not eaten all day, had produced the cake and made a big production out of scoffing it in front of her. She made it last ages, going 'yummy yum, Nance, this is simply delicious, this is just to die for!' etc etc, and getting each piece on a fork and wafting it around under Nancy's nose before popping it slowly and deliberately into her own mouth. Being really really mean, in other words.

Poor Nancy had actually started crying. Or kind of drooling and sobbing at the same time -- it was a truly pathetic spectacle and the two women giggled as they remembered. "God, Mindy, I just about wet myself when you made her beg for those tiny crumbs at the end!"

"I could be a bitch occasionally, I suppose," said Miranda.


"Nothing on you though, Ruth, let's be honest. Christ, I remember you used to take Nancy along on dates sometimes. That was sooo cruel!"

"No it wasn't," Ruth grinned. "What's cruel about giving her a few demos on how to snog boys?

"What was it the boys used to say?"

"Going out with Beauty and the Beast," giggled Ruth.

"That's it. Poor Nancy!"

"All for her own good, Mindy. Just like the diet was."

"Yeah, right. You were all heart."

Ruth grinned and drank down the last of her martini. "I suppose it's possible it wasn't that great for the poor thing, watching me have all the fun. Hey, don't think I ever told you this but I once had Bobby Driver stay over when my parents were away and ..."

"Oh god, Bobby Driver, all the girls at college fancied him! Even I was a bit jealous when you two got together."

"Probably why I didn't tell you about him staying the night with me. Didn't want to hack off my best friend, did I?"

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