Prison Bitch Ch. 09

Prison Bitch

9.

Lola sat across from him with an odd smile twisting her crimson red lips. It wasn't like Riley to think of women wearing too much makeup as vulgar, but now that was the exact thought that crossed his mind. Vulgar meant easy, and he liked easy. Nah, that must have been before. The fuck was he thinking? Like Dylan wasn't easy. He was the same unchanged man.

Only that, like Lola, he had got his loyalties swayed lately. When it came to the choice he wanted to make in a bed partner, he was no longer about tits and pussy.

"So, it's been a while," she started and crossed her arms under her boobs to make them jiggle and bounce.

She was wearing a new blouse, something that showed a lot of cleavage.

"Did I get you this?" he asked, while getting in the act and letting his eyes move appreciatively over her melons.

"No, it's new." Lola pulled at a strand of her platinum blond hair. The color was new, too. "I thought they took you off your conjugals. What's that about?"

"They did, the fuckers," Riley said and made a sour face. He looked over at one of the guards. The guy was eyeing Lola like she was fucking cake. Let them drool, the fucking idiots. What did they know? "That got me thinking, baby," he added and smiled with all his face.

"Oh, yeah?" she asked, still playing with a lock of hair. She seemed preoccupied.

Riley liked his women not very bright, and he had a great example right in front of him. Lola was thinking of something, hiding it from him, for sure, but she was failing because she just couldn't do two things at the same time, to talk to him and be careful not to spill the beans.

He reached over the table and took her hand. She seemed surprised and looked around. "I thought there was some rule about not touching and all."

"I can grease a few wheels when needed. And it's hard to have you across from me like this and not be allowed to touch you." He squinted at her like he was lovestruck.

She shifted in her chair but started to smile back, too. It was her arrogant smile, when she thought herself superior to her stupid girlfriends, and Riley felt a sudden need to bitch slap her, just to make her get back to her senses. Nah, he never hit women.

"I missed you, girl," he said gently and caressed her hand. "I want us to get married."

The look of absolute astonishment on her face told him that was the last thing she was expecting from him.

"What?" she mumbled. "What?" This time, she shouted louder. "Riley, what do you mean? For real?" She removed her hand and covered her face and her rouged mouth turned into a large O. He could only see her eyes, the heavy eyelids, the mascara, and the fine lines at the corners. She wasn't getting younger.

Riley almost pitied her. Too bad she had thought of going against him and take him to the cleaners. She must still be thinking of the same thing, but from a different angle.

"I mean just what I say. Let's get married, once I'm out. Let's get a fucking mansion, and let's make some fucking kids."

Her high-pitched scream of delight made all the heads in the room turn. Riley waved at them. "We're getting married," he explained with his most charming smile.

The women visiting their men rolled their eyes, but their smiles were affectionate. The men were either looking at him in envy, while their eyes slid to the future Mrs. O'Connor, or in pity. Another guy getting the real ball and chain, like prison had taught him nothing.

"I can't believe it!" Lola continued.

"Believe it, girl," Riley said and reached for her to grab her left hand. "About time to put a ring on this pretty finger, right?"

"Yeah, about damn time," she replied. "Oh, damn. I have so many things to--Oh, my God, and to think that I came here today to tell you we should take a break--"

Ah, that was what the hiding was all about. Riley gave her a look of perfect consternation. "A break? A break from what?"

Lola shook her head, trying to cover for her slipup. "Nothing, nothing, it was just a silly thought. You know how girls get when they're neglected. They tend to think of all kinds of stupid, you know?"

"No, I can't say that I know," Riley replied and stared her down.

She squirmed in her seat. "Let's forget about that. I was being stupid, is all. This is the best day of my life, Riley. Can I kiss you?"

Riley looked over to the guards and made an attempt to lean over the table.

"Hey, hey, break it off, you two," one of them warned them.

Riley sat back with a perfect disappointed sigh. "I guess it'll have to wait until our wedding day," he said.

Lola caressed his cheek briefly. "That's too bad. My poor baby. You don't worry about a thing. I'll handle all the preparations."

"Do you need anything? By that, I mean money, 'cause I hope you don't think I know anything about weddings."

"No, no, that's fine. Vern's been giving me my share, like you told him," Lola said while fidgeting on her chair. "And you only need to call him and tell him to give me all I need, right?"

"Yeah." So, his fucking manager had seduced Lola, using Riley's funds. Go fucking figure. "I'll tell him to give you free reign."

Lola leaned back in her chair, happy like a brainless bird. "I can't believe you finally decided!"

Riley could tell that now she was trying to figure him out, so he needed to step up his game. "It's lonely in here. I should have appreciated you more before. And I'm sure as hell going to appreciate you once my stint here is over."

Lola gave him a very affectionate smile. Too bad he was close enough to read the dollar signs in her moist eyes. "I love you so much, baby."

"I love you, too," he said and winced while clutching his fist. "I can barely wait to be balls deep in you once more."

She laughed, throwing her head back. "Good for you, Riley. Way to ruin the moment."

He grinned, giving her cleavage another appreciative once-over. "You come here dressed like that, don't expect me to be a perfect gentleman or some shit."

Lola shook a bit, making her puppies wiggle. "I know," she whispered seductively. "That's why I love you, darling."

"Okay. This was why I wanted to see you. Too bad I can't get any conjugals. But I'll think of you each time I rub one off."

"You better do," Lola said sharply. "By the way, I heard some rumors. You're fucking some dude in here."

Well, well, well, the wild cat finally showed her claws. "Where did you hear that?" Riley asked, putting on his most innocent face.

"You know, I heard some other inmates, while I was waiting for you," she lied.

"That's not true, baby. There's just this guy, bullied like fuck by some scumbags in here, and I had to make him my official bitch so that they'll leave him alone. It's only for show. He's just a poor pitiful soul."

"Is he pretty?" Lola asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Pretty?" Riley snorted. "Dudes aren't pretty. For me, they're not. The only thing I can think of when I look at him is that he's like a kicked stray dog."

That seemed to appease her some. Even if she didn't believe him completely, at least he had planted some doubt seeds in her mind. Watered properly with promises of the perfect wedding, they were bound to make her believe him over the other fuckers. Like the whore she was, Lola would weigh her pros and cons of becoming Mrs. O'Connor, and the list of advantages she'd see would trample everything else.

"I would get it, you know?" Lola said, suddenly understanding. "Being so lonely here and all."

"Not that lonely," Riley assured her. "There's no way I'd fuck some dude. And no one compares to you anyway, no woman, let alone a man."

"Time's up," the guard from before announced.

Riley was grateful. That was all he needed from Lola. Now, she would go out there and try to wiggle her way out of the agreement she must have made with Vern, since she was getting everything she had ever dreamed of.

***

"How was your date?" Dylan kept his distance, as the guards were inspecting the cells, one by one.

"Date?" Riley asked.

"You know, your wifey visiting." Dylan hoped he didn't sound too bitchy. Whether he liked it or not, Lola was a competitor, and nothing said that Riley wouldn't change his mind after seeing her big tits. Dylan had resisted the temptation to check her out online, but Sean kept talking about those tits like there was nothing else in the known universe. And Dylan knew that was one thing he couldn't offer Riley.

"She was very happy to hear me saying all that. Yeah, she's fucking ecstatic."

"What about you?" Dylan asked, eyeing Riley slowly. "Do her tits look just as good as ever?"

Riley snorted and leaned against the door. "They're starting to sag, actually."

"Don't be mean," Dylan teased. "I heard she's stunning."

Riley examined him, eyes hooded and questioning. "What are you trying to really ask me, sweetie?"

Dylan loved it when Riley called him endearing names. "Do you still have feelings for her? It must be hard to see her and not think of how good you two were together."

Riley groaned and closed his eyes. "Fuck, you want us to talk now. For fuck's sake."

"I just want to know how you feel. Like, do you still want to fuck her?"

At that, Riley laughed and gave him a stare that left nothing to the imagination. "Nah. I'm over her. Once you switch sides, and you're no longer on my side, you stay where the fuck you chose to be. However, the more I look at you, the more I feel like I want to put my dick in you."

"Sure, I'm only good for one thing," Dylan teased and smiled back.

"More than one. Yeah, a hell of a lot more than one. Just you wait. I'll fuck you senseless."

"Nice promise."

"Not just that."

The guard banging on their door made Riley move slightly away and Dylan jump in surprise. That was the difference between them.

Riley stepped aside as the guard opened the door and walked in. "Hill, get your stuff. You're being moved."

"What the fuck?" Riley growled.

"Got a problem with that, O'Connor?" The guard pushed himself into Riley's face while touching his belt suggestively.

"Yeah, just one. I know nothing about getting a new cellmate," Riley said, reining in his impulses with obvious difficulty.

Dylan had frozen in place. James' long arm was reaching for him, and no one could do anything about it.

"You know now," the guard said matter-of-factly. "Hill, move it."

Dylan knew better than to mouth off to a guard. Whatever was meant to happen, it would. With trembling hands, he struggled to get down from the top bed. He truly hoped that Riley would know better than to make trouble.

"He's not going anywhere. There's gotta be a mistake," Riley insisted.

"Are you going to make trouble for me, inmate?" the guard asked, pushing himself in Riley's face to make a point. He was shorter, and Riley towered over him, but that didn't matter. He was the guy with a taser, a rubber baton, and a gun. And he made the rules. "If you do, you won't have to worry about getting a new cellmate. You'll be in the hole, all by your lonesome. How about that?"

Riley worked his jaw, and Dylan watched a vein pulsing at his temple. Still, he moved out of the way. "No trouble, sir," he said. "I was just taken by surprise, is all."

Dylan grabbed his meager belongings and waited for the guard to gesture for him to follow. Riley leaned closer as he moved past. "I'll look out for you, don't worry."

Don't worry. Such simple words. But Dylan knew better than that. He was doomed, and he should have never hoped for better.

***

His entire body was shaking, and he couldn't stop it. But there was no surprise for him when he was pushed by the guard into his new cell. James grinned at him from his place. Some other fellow, someone Dylan didn't remember, was there, as well. He looked mean, with the strange tattoos on half his face, and the wiry forearms showing from the sleeves of his prison uniform.

"Hello, princess," James teased him with a wolfish smile.

Dylan pressed himself against the door. It wouldn't matter if he screamed. It wouldn't matter if he begged and pleaded. It was just what it was, but he couldn't bring himself to accept it.

"Do you really want to mess up this face?" the mean prisoner asked, moving close to Dylan and grabbing his chin. He examined him with cold eyes, moving Dylan's face to one side, and then the other.

"Yeah. Can't you do it or something?"

The prisoner looked at James, and it seemed that something out of how he stared made the head of the Niners shift in place and move his eyes away. "It's not a matter of can. It's a matter of want."

"Don't you want?" James asked, his voice unsure.

"I do," the man said curtly and moved away.

Dylan blinked, aware of the fearful tears pouring down his cheeks. He gasped when the prisoner returned with a shank in his hand. "Please," he whispered.

The man stuck out his tongue and began licking his cheeks slowly. "You taste sweet," he said and brought his shank up, caressing Dylan's jawline slowly.

"Come on, do him already," James asked. "The fuck, Dagger? Wanna romance him and shit first?"

Dagger. It had to be a nickname, and it had to be earned. Dylan squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself not to cry so much and give these scumbags the satisfaction of that, too.

"You let me do things on my own terms, or I'll fucking shank you," Dagger said in a toneless voice, as he continued to feel Dylan's face with his fingers and the tip of his weapon.

That seemed to convince James to shut the fuck up. Dylan tried to make eye contact with Dagger, if only to convince him that he was another human being and deserved all the empathy the man had to offer.

Dagger looked at him with the same cold dead eyes. He continued to stare while he took Dylan's mouth in a slow, deliberate kiss. Dylan kept his eyes wide open, blinking from time to time, while Dagger took his time exploring his mouth.

And then the pain hit, searing hot, stinging and flaring, while the shank pressed against the soft flesh of his left cheek. His screams were muffled by Dagger's tongue inside his mouth and his entire body was pressed against the door by the man's hard mass.

Dagger moved away and Dylan brought one hand to his cheek, groaning in pain. "No, no, no," Dagger said and pushed his hand away. "Don't get it infected now."

He began to lick Dylan's wound with the same deliberation he had kissed him earlier. "Oh, yes, you do taste sweet everywhere," he said, and this time, his toneless voice became heated and with a purpose.

Dylan whimpered as Dagger cut through his pants, the fabric ripping easily. Then, his legs were pushed apart, and one hand moved between his ass cheeks. Dagger continued to lick his wound, over and over, and made his way to Dylan's hole, first with his fingers which moved in and out slowly, and then the head of his cock he must have taken out while torturing his victim.

His cock was hot and hard like a rock. Dylan knew he wasn't supposed to squeeze and reject the invasion if he wanted to make things easier for himself, but a part of him wanted to revolt against his tormentor.

Dagger didn't seem bothered by his resistance. He appeared to revel so much in tasting Dylan's blood that nothing could stop him. He was forceful in a slow way that probably let the victim enough time to realize that the torture he'd suffer would be long and horrible.

Dylan cried out as his body was breeched to make way for the other's cock.

"I want this doll," Dagger said while he pushed himself to the hilt inside Dylan.

"What the fuck? This isn't what we talked about," James protested. "He's my bitch."

Dagger seemed deaf to his employer's protests. "He's so nice everywhere," he continued. Even as he pulled out and pushed in again, making Dylan gasp in pain every time, he maintained his voice and breathing even.

If his cock didn't feel so searing hot inside him, Dylan would have thought the man to be anything but human.

"And that's all?" James continued. "People say you're some fucking artist, cutting bitches open for the fun of it."

"It's just what he needs," Dagger continued and turned Dylan's face to admire his handiwork. "A straight line on his cheek. A straight road to hell. So lovely."

"You're a fucking scumbag. I should shank you right here, and then finish the work for you."

"I will finish my work," Dagger said while he continued to fuck Dylan, who now felt dizzy and swayed into the man's arms. "Every three days, a new cut, until his face will become my ultimate work of art. Yes, Mr. Miller," he said with a tint of sarcasm, "I am an artist. And artists know that it takes pain and time to create a masterpiece. He is mine now."

"I see. Okay, that's more like it. What do you plan to do to him?"

"I have no interest in sharing my secrets. But rest assured, Mr. Miller. His face won't be the same at all. Now, it's my canvas on which I'll paint my passion." Dagger grabbed Dylan's chin and kissed him again.

Dylan could tell the man was shooting inside him, even though only a short intake of breath on his part betrayed that he was climaxing.

Dagger moved and Dylan crumpled to the floor.

"Get out."

Dylan looked up, not believing his luck. But that hadn't been addressed to him. James gave him a nasty look on his way out. The same guard was waiting outside and took James with him. Dylan dragged him to the man's feet and tried to reach for him, but Dagger pulled him back. "Easy, my darling," he said, "you're not allowed out by yourself anymore."

***

Riley was seeing red. He hadn't slept a moment, and he hoped his bloodshot eyes were enough of a sign for anyone who dared to happen in his path. The first on the order of business was to place a call.

"My wife," he said the moment Cashel picked up the phone. "I need you to take good care of her, get her what she needs."

"You no longer can do it yourself?"

Riley gripped the phone hard. Good thing Cashel was so quick on the uptake. "Ex-boyfriends are a fucking bitch to deal with," he said slowly and in a whisper so that the guards couldn't catch just everything.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Not good enough."

"Trust me. What I can do is always more than enough."

Riley moved away from the phone. A bunch of assholes began to whistle, drawing his attention. When he looked up, everything stopped.

Dylan was trailing off a tall inmate with intricate tattoos on his face. His bald head, his bony face, his strong wiry frame, were enough to tell Riley who he would be dealing with soon. It was always a good thing to know your enemy.

He looked at his former cellmate. Dylan was holding one hand to his left cheek and staring down. The inmate in front turned toward him and took his hand. He kissed it, and it surprised Riley how the gesture didn't seem to tease or mock. However, the prisoner forced Dylan's hand away from his face.

His teeth ground hard at the sight of that long red line marring the smooth cheek. So, the fucking Niners' leader had chosen that; to give Dylan to a fucking psychopath. "Who's that?" he asked the inmate closest to him.

"Don't you know Dagger?" The guy looked at Riley with a smirk. "He's a cutter. Hey, isn't that your bitch?"

Riley didn't reply. By nightfall, people were going to learn their fucking places.

And who the fucking shot-caller was.

tbc

Author's note: Even if there's going to be some f-up stuff in the future chapters, it's for making the characters show their true colors. Also, there's a happy end, guaranteed.