Photoshopped - Julie's Story

They say you can get used to anything. It's been three months since I was convicted and sent to this hellhole of a prison where every day is a horror show, to which I'll never adjust.

I'm laying on my bunk, holding my ankles by my ears, while Malaika, my cellmate, fists my vagina. She's a lifer bull dyke, and she says she loves my pussy. When my husband offered her $125 per week to wreak his revenge by sexually abusing me, with fisting a thrice weekly feature, she thought she had gone to heaven.

How my husband accomplished this -- through a group of corrupt guards he'd bribed -- told me that I couldn't go to the guards -- they'd turn me over to some sadistic lifers who would enjoy my tongue and body before they cut me up until I was unrecognizable. Or they'd mark me up in ways I'd never recover from. I've seen others in prison, cut up or humiliatingly tattooed on their faces with symbols or words. Besides, the guards don't care what happens to me, as long as the cell block remains peaceful and they receive their cut.

Less than a year ago, before my trial, I was a middle-class wife with a comfortable home and life. I had a handsome husband who had a great paying job and a career that seem to have no limits. I'd married above my class. I knew that; I was never the prettiest girl or the smartest. My family lived in trailers my whole life. When we married, I was embarrassed to see my family next to his. His were so classy while my relatives looked like the Beverly Hillbillies.

On my wedding day, my jealous mother told me that they were a snooty bunch and I would never hold onto him. He'd regret marrying a trailer trash girl. "He'll find some girl he's not ashamed for his friends to talk to." She couldn't stand anyone better than her and hated that I was doing better than her. I knew that, but her words still made me cry and planted the seeds of insecurity that only grew during my marriage.

Some of the insecurity was due to my speech and lack of education. My husband, his family and his friends, always spoke so correctly. I tried hard to drop my trailer park idioms and pronunciations. "Ask for things", I told myself over and over, "Don't axe for them." At first, I thought my husband was trying to help me when he pointed out my syntax or pronunciation errors. Later it occurred to me that he enjoyed picking at me.

Then he gets this gorgeous model of a secretary, Marcie. She speaks so good (damn it, well, she speaks so well) and when we've met at company events she's had conversations with my husband about things that I don't understand. Not just work, but world events and things. I would try to join the conversation but would feel put down when they laughed at my questions. My husband would pat my shoulder and say, "Never mind, honey. It's not important." He made me feel so stupid and Marcie would just smile at me, like I was a retarded child.

When Steve and Gloria came and showed me the picture of my husband John and Marcie fucking and smiling like pigs in shit, my mind exploded. Everything I expected that my mother had foretold, was right there. Fuck them! All I wanted was to get even.

I got out a bottle of scotch, and the three of us sat drinking and bitching, talking about what we should do. What we did was end up in bed together. I let them both fuck me. I'd never been with anyone but John and never with a woman. It wasn't as good as with John, but that was gone forever. That bastard.

It didn't take long for a plan to come together. It didn't occur to me until later that Gloria and Steve had already set everything up. We fucked every day while John was at work and I fended John off every night with promises of new things on our date night. I did things with them I'd never done with John. The strap-on Gloria used was a familiar feeling, but I didn't have to worry about her finishing before I came, unlike with John's real penis. Or Steve's for that matter. While John at least tried to get me off each time, Steve only seemed interested in his own pleasure. It didn't bother me with Gloria there to finish me off, but it did tell me something about Steve.

Of course, everything with Gloria was new, the licking, the scissoring and who knew tits were so much fun? It didn't take Gloria long to learn all my buttons. And God, did she push them. Soon sex with her outstrip sex with John, Steve or anything I'd ever imagined.

It was Steve's idea to drug John, tie him up and force him to watch Steve screw me, both vaginally and in the ass that I had always denied John. I made a wonderful dinner for date night and slipped some powder Steve supplied into John's after dinner port.

When John passed out, Steve and Gloria came in. Steve got us all a glass of wine, which we drank as they gloated over my husband's sleeping body. The wine hit me right away and I laughed out loud at everything they said.

While we were carrying John to the bedroom, Gloria told me for the first time about her gay friends who were coming to give John a taste of the anal he'd always wanted. At the time, it seemed funny to me.

In fact, everything was funny. I'd planned for John to watch us fuck then I was going to tell him to go to hell and take as much of his stuff as I could in the divorce. But gay sex and the fisting that Gloria kept insisting would be the perfect finish for my marriage were all new ideas, but just seemed hilariously right.

It seemed obvious later that Steve had slipped something in my glass of wine. Whatever it was just made me all right with the world and everything that Gloria was suggesting.

I don't think I've ever come as hard as I did while Steve fucked me with John watching. My husband's eyes bugged out when Steve stuck it up my ass. It was so funny I just couldn't stop laughing. I had told him Steve was taking my anal virginity, but we'd been doing anal all week. But John didn't know that and then Gloria's friends came in and anal virginity was taken, only it was John's! That struck me as uproarious.

While John was "enjoying" gay sex, Gloria came in and we began making love to each other, while Steve humped away at me. I came in a long, rolling sequence of orgasms. It was glorious, only slightly ruined when I saw that John had passed out. It angered me that he wasn't seeing me in my glory. Gloria sure knew how to bring out the best in me.

Gloria left with her friends while Steve insisted I try to revive him with a blow job while we waited for John to awaken. I was resistant, but he went and got us each another glass of wine to revive us. It did. Life was funny again and Steve was revived by my renewed efforts. We'd just finished another session of love making when John started stirring. Steve reminded me of what Gloria called the perfect ending. Since that ending involved John's rear end, I started laughing again. It just seemed so right.

I lubed up my hand, looked John in the eye and said "I thought we'd try fisting!" Something new in the bedroom, I thought as I forced my hand up John's rectum, twisting and turning in my efforts to get it all in. When his anus closed around my wrist, I watched in fascination as it stretched and pulled as I pumped my hand up and down his colon.

When I pulled my hand out, I though his insides were going to come along with it. It was bloody and shitty, and suddenly didn't seem as funny as I thought. I ran to the bathroom and vomited. That sour wine vomit, over and over. Then I staggered out and onto the bed. I begged Steve to release John. I was sobering up and began to realize the extent of what we had done. Something snapped, and I started laughing with the hysterics that settled on my mind.

I watched as Steve released John and then he had to make a comment about John now really being a big asshole. John grabbed a perfume bottle off my dresser and beaned Steve with it. Steve crumpled to the ground. I thought John had killed him. I froze in my panic.

John walked over and looked at me with hate in his eyes. I could only shake as he brought the bottle of perfume down on my head.

I woke up to the police and arrest. Not having money for bail or legal help, I stayed in jail until my trial, where legal aide was less of an aid than I needed. I was convicted of every charge and sent on to my current hellhole, where my cellmate Malaika assured me that we'd have a good time together. Then she stripped me, caressing my body and began flicking my clitoris with her artful tongue. Then her fingers began stretching my vagina. They were soon joined by her thumb as she forced her hand up into me. My life had changed forever.

Now she pimps me out almost daily to some of the nastiest cunts around. I ask her not too, but she says, "Honey, they pays the best." Sometimes, she sells me to younger, sweeter tasting cons. They make me think of Gloria and trigger some impressive orgasms.

Malaika has let me off my whore "duties" for the last week, as the tattoo my husband insisted I be given as part of his deal with her heals. Now my ass is permanently marked "Property of Cellblock C." I cried when Malaika had it etched on me, but she comforted me by saying, "Ain't nobody but cons gonna see that ass for the next 30 years, and after that it'll be so old and nasty you ain't gonna be wantin' nobody lookin' at it anyhow!"

The worst of it is I now know John wasn't fucking Marcie, at least before I got my "revenge". Steve and Gloria had set me up with that photoshopped photo. Now John's got Marcie, the woman my mother foretold, and it's me that made it all possible for her. John's best revenge wasn't having me abused in prison. It was visiting me with Marcie to let me know they're getting married and they wanted me to be the first to know!

So here I lay, pulling my ankles tighter to my ears as Malaika skillfully brings on a cascading climax, reaching places in me that John's skinny little dick could never even approach. I scream with joy, releasing my legs that drop down to envelop my lover and pull her up to allow me to plant my kisses on her glorious lips. I think I was always uncomfortable in my marriage because it wasn't right for me. I was waiting for Gloria and Malaika to show me what I was missing. Do I wish I was not in prison? Yes. But would I rather be outside with John than here with Malaika? Hell no. I belong with and to Malaika. She owns me, body and soul. If it makes her happy to whore me out, I'll do it with love.

Besides, really? Who knew tits could be so much fun?

I just hope that after he marries Marcie John continues to fund my "punishment". Malaika loves the irony of him paying for our happiness.