by Smith, Bryan
Holly’s head was turned in her direction as the nurse banged back through the infirmary’s swinging doors. Her eyes got big as she saw what dangled from Livia’s index and middle fingers by its plastic handle.
“No.” The woman’s tone was hoarse and plaintive. “You can’t.”
Livia laughed. “Oh, shut up. I can and you know it.”
Holly whimpered. “Please.”
“You go right on begging,” Livia said, smirking as she set the jug of bleach atop the medical cart, which she then rolled into place next to Holly’s bed. “I do enjoy it, as you should probably know by now.”
Holly trembled. “I-I…thought you were getting something for my pain.”
Livia giggled as she removed the cap from the plastic bottle. “I did get something for the pain, silly. But I never said it was anything to help the pain, you stupid cow.”
Using one hand to pull apart Holly’s buttocks and the other to position the bottle of bleach above her anus, Livia felt herself getting wet in anticipation of what was about to happen. She ached to touch herself, but refrained because she was already set to administer the patient’s “medicine”.
Holly screamed and jerked at the shackles binding her to the bed, an effort that produced a metallic clinking sound but accomplished little else, except to intensify Livia’s excitement. The screaming and begging were always lovely things, but seeing them struggle uselessly was just as nice.
She tipped the bottle forward until the caustic liquid began to pour from the opening. Holly jerked against her bonds again—harder now as fear-induced adrenaline began to hit her system—and then started screaming as the bleach made contact with the puncture wounds in her ass. These screams were some of the loudest and shrillest Livia had heard in months. She shivered in pleasure, her breathing quickening as she neared orgasm without even having touched herself.
Holly thrashed and screamed as the nurse tipped more bleach into the wounds. The ferocity of her struggles was really something to behold. She yanked at the shackle encircling her left wrist so hard that it broke the wrist. The snapping of bone was audible to Livia’s ears, but Holly hardly noticed. All that existed in her world then was the total agony gripping her and the need to get away from what was causing it.
Only she couldn’t do that.
Livia allowed the woman a few minutes of respite, long enough for the horrendous sting of the bleach to subside somewhat—and long enough for her to become aware of what she’d done to her wrist.
Her body was sheened in sweat as her struggles slowly became less violent. In a few more moments, she lay there panting and sobbing on the bed. Livia set the bottle of bleach on the medical cart, stripped the latex glove from her right hand, and reached into her pants to take care of business. Achieving orgasm didn’t take long, maybe just a few seconds. After that, she stripped off the other latex glove, donned a fresh pair, and again picked up the bottle of bleach. By then, Holly was trembling but no longer thrashing in agony and she was mewling weakly rather than screaming.
Well, this won’t do at all, Livia thought.
She pulled apart Holly’s buttocks and splashed a much more liberal dose of bleach into the wounds than before. The woman’s screaming resonated inside the infirmary’s walls as powerfully as the wailing of a heavy metal singer in a concert arena.
And it wasn’t long at all before Livia was getting off again.
13.
In the dining hall, most of the women on the other side of the serving line wouldn’t look Jessica in the eye. Many of them had a twitchiness that made her think of meth tweakers. This did not give her any confidence in the quality of the food, despite what Spider had said about it being surprisingly edible.
One woman near the end of the serving line did make eye contact with Jessica. She also wasn’t as twitchy as her coworkers. That, though, was where the good news ended. This woman looked like a crone out of some dark old fairytale about evil witches and the innocent, unsuspecting children who ran afoul of them. She looked like a well-fed hag, basically, with loose, chicken-like jowls, a bushy near-unibrow, a thick, protruding lower lip, and prominent warts on her face. Wet green boogers were visible inside her large, flaring nostrils.
The witchy old bitch was wearing a large white apron over a big gray smock. Her plump right hand loosely held the end of a serving spoon. Her mouth twisted in an amused sneer as she sensed Jessica’s scrutiny of her. “Want some gravy for your mashed potatoes, dearie?”
Jessica eyed the pot of gravy. The creepy old bat was stirring the brown slop with the spoon. Ordinarily, she did like gravy on her potatoes. She’d been born and raised in the south, after all. But as she stood there and studied the dubious texture of the swirling slop, she saw something land on its surface, something that was briefly visible before being stirred into the gravy.
Something…green.
Jessica looked the woman in the eye. “Did you really do what I think you just did?”
The woman smiled, revealing rows of rotting, yellow teeth.
She said nothing.
Spider nudged Jessica with an elbow. “We’re, uh, kind of holding up the line here,” she said, speaking so softly she was barely audible. “The natives are getting restless.”
Jessica glanced at the line of women behind her. They were all glaring at her, impatient to reach the end of the line and find somewhere to sit. “I take your point.” She looked at the leering witch on the other side of the serving line. “No gravy for me today.”
“Suit yourself, dearie.”
Jessica picked up her tray and moved aside, allowing Spider to slide her tray over and stare across the line at the strange food server. “I’ll have a dollop of gravy, please.”
Arching an eyebrow in surprise, Jessica withheld comment as she watched the crone dump gravy on Spider’s potatoes. Spider thanked the woman, picked up her tray, and glanced at Jessica. “This way.”
Jessica followed her new cellmate down an aisle between rows of tables. There were a lot of tables. No surprise, given D-Block’s large inmate population. Everywhere Jessica looked, she saw mostly occupied seats. She and Spider were drawing a lot of glares as they continued down the aisle. Several inmates made lewd or threatening gestures and it was clear these were directed at her rather than Spider.
This was not unexpected. She was fresh meat and thus would naturally be treated with hostility, but she thought there might be more to it than that. Word of what she’d done to her first cellmate would have gotten around. She had no idea what the dead woman’s standing had been here—whether she’d been high up in the social pecking order or not—but it was possible she’d already created a whole raft of new enemies without knowing it. Though she had no regrets about killing Laura Grier, that aspect of the situation was one she would need to get a handle on soon. Hopefully Spider would have some helpful information.
Spider didn’t stop until they’d reached a table at the far end of the dining hall. This table was not as crowded as most, not nearly. Just three other women were seated at it and all were sitting well apart from each other. At a glance, Jessica knew why. These women were, like Spider, misfits and outcasts. They projected severe levels of social anxiety that hung over them like clouds of radiation. None would look at anything but the trays in front of them, nibbling at their food like anxious birds.
Jessica pulled out a chair and sat down, putting her back to the wall. She wanted to be able to see everything and be ready to deal with any incoming threats. To her surprise, Spider pulled out the chair next to her and sat there rather than across from her.
Jessica looked at her. “What are you doing?”
Spider shoved a spoonful of mashed potatoes into her mouth. She swallowed and washed the food down with a gulp from her carton of milk. “Same thing as you,” she said, digging her spoon into the potatoes again. “Keeping an eye on things.”
She ate the second spoonful of mashed potatoes.
Je
ssica picked up a biscuit and took a cautious bite. “Hmm.”
Not too bad.
Spider glanced at her. “It’s like I said, right? Edible.”
Jessica grunted. “Yeah.”
She took another, less cautious bite. The biscuit was really pretty okay. After that, her hunger kicked in and she gobbled down the rest. She was most of the way through her mashed potatoes when she noted a trio of women walking toward them.
The three had been seated together at a crowded table about midway down on the row opposite this one. A couple minutes ago, they’d gotten up to return their empty trays to a stack at the end of the serving line. Instead of heading for the exit, however, they’d turned back and started in this direction.
The woman at the center of the trio was a good-looking, busty broad with lustrous-looking, curly black hair that hung past her shoulders. She walked just a little ahead of the other women, a redhead and a blonde. The women flanking her were taller and, if anything, bustier than the brunette. Their body language marked them as enforcers, with the brunette being their leader. Jessica had no idea what their deal was, but that part of it was obvious.
They were inmates, clearly, but they weren’t wearing the required jumpsuit uniform. Instead they wore denim booty shorts—cut-offs—and halters or tube tops. Most inmates wore the uniforms, but Jessica had noted that a fair percentage of them, maybe about a quarter of them, did not. She didn’t yet know what set these privileged few apart, but she meant to find out.
The brunette was staring right at Jessica. She had a pronounced smirk on her pretty face.
Jessica picked up a second biscuit and covered her mouth, pretending to contemplate it as she directed a whispered comment to Spider. “What’s up with these three?”
Spider looked up from her food and froze. “Oh, shit.”
Jessica frowned. “What?”
Spider let out a breath and turned her gaze downward, to her plate. “That’s Alice Kincaid and her goons.”
“Who is Alice Kincaid?”
Spider put her hands in her lap. Jessica noted they were shaking slightly. “She runs the black market in this place. The ginger is Lucy Thorne and the other one is Shonda Danning. They’re her muscle, I guess you could say. They’re all badass bitches.”
“You afraid of them?”
Spider swallowed with some difficulty. “Yes.”
Jessica nodded and put down the biscuit. “Okay. Keep your mouth shut and let me deal with them.”
Alice Kincaid pulled out the chair opposite Jessica and plopped down in it. She directed a sneering glance at Jessica’s cellmate. “Scram, Spider.”
Spider automatically started to rise, but Jessica put a hand on her shoulder and made her sit back down.
“My friend’s not going anywhere.”
Alice laughed. “Your friend? Really? You’re friends with this freak?”
Jessica stared stonily across the table at Alice Kincaid. “Spider is my friend, yes.”
The other two were still flanking Alice, but they’d opted to stand rather than sit with their boss. Now the redhead leaned forward, bracing her hands against the table’s surface as she leered at Jessica. Her breasts drooped heavily, straining the fabric of her tight top. “What if we just make her leave, bitch?”
Jessica smiled. “You can try.”
Spider’s shaking visibly intensified. She looked nervously at Jessica. “I can just go. It’s okay.”
Jessica gave her head a single, adamant shake. “No.”
Spider sighed. “Okay.”
Jessica’s smile broadened slightly as she met Lucy Thorne’s hateful gaze. “You think you’re a tough bitch. I get that. You probably are pretty tough compared to most in this joint.” Now Jessica leaned forward, until she was within inches of the other woman’s face. “But, baby, I’d break you and this other cunt in half without even breaking a sweat. You want me to put you in the fucking morgue? Fine. Go for it.”
A breath hissed from between Lucy Thorne’s clenched teeth. The muscles in her shoulders and arms tensed. She was within seconds from pouncing. The other woman, Shonda, started to approach Jessica’s side of the table.
Then Alice Kincaid loudly cleared her throat. “That’s enough, girls. We’re not here to beat anyone’s ass.” She flashed a playful smile. “Not today, anyway.”
Another tense moment elapsed. In that moment, a fight might still have gone down, despite Alice’s order to the contrary. All it would have taken was the wrong little nudge from Jessica. Lucy was ready to go. She wanted that fight. In the end, though, she surrendered to her boss’s wishes and backed off. She and Shonda resumed their flanking positions to either side of Alice.
Alice sighed. “Believe it or not, lady, I’m really not here to fuck with you. I wanted this to be a private conversation, but if Spider’s your bitch, so be it.”
“My bitch?”
Alice smiled. “You know what I mean.”
Jessica didn’t say anything.
Alice shrugged. “So, whatever. It’s cool. I just wanted to introduce myself. I heard how you dealt with Laura Grier and was impressed, figured I should get to know you. A bitch like you, the way you stood up to my girls, who fucking nobody stands up to, not if they want to keep on living, well…that gets my attention, too.”
Again, Jessica said nothing, just kept staring.
Alice glanced at Spider, who immediately went back to staring at her lap. A combination of curiosity and disbelief at being a part of this confrontation between alpha bitches had caused her to stare across the table at Alice, but now she looked like she wanted to slink away somewhere and go hide, maybe never to emerge again.
Jessica put a hand on her cellmate’s leg, gave it a reassuring squeeze.
Alice laughed, shifted her attention back to Jessica. “Did your, uh…friend…” The sneering emphasis she put on ‘friend’ made her cohorts chortle. “Whatever the fuck she is…did she clue you in about me?”
“Maybe. What about it?”
Alice shrugged. “I like you. I like your fucking style. You’ve got what it takes to make it in here. Big time. That’s why I’d like to talk to you about maybe working for me.”
Jessica frowned. “Working for you? Doing what?”
Another shrug from Alice. “That’s yet to be determined. Now, normally, fresh meat like you, I wouldn’t even consider involving you in my business. But you ain’t the normal kind of fresh meat. Anybody can see that. No, you’re special. So maybe we think about putting you on an accelerated path to a high up position in my organization.” She folded her arms beneath her big breasts and leaned back in her chair. “What do you think about that?”
Jessica stared back at Alice impassively for a long moment. During that time, she sensed the silent, seething hostility emanating from Lucy Thorne and, to a slightly lesser degree, from Shonda Danning. Both of them likely considered Jessica’s possible involvement in their boss’s dealings a personal threat. That in itself should have been enough to warrant a flat “no” to Alice Kincaid’s proposal. She didn’t much relish possibly being stabbed in the back by one of these bitches.
On the other hand, based on what she knew at this point, this Alice Kincaid could be a good person to know if she had the kind of contacts Jessica assumed she must have. “I’ll think about it.”
Jessica pushed her chair back and stood up, picking up her tray and indicating with a tilt of her head for Spider to do the same. Spider didn’t hesitate. She stood and picked up her tray, standing as close to Jessica as possible as they started moving away from the table.
Alice remained seated, turning in the metal folding chair as she watched them start to leave. “You give it some thought, baby. I’ve got no problem with that.” She grinned, glancing at Spider. “Just don’t think too long. It could be harmful to your friend’s health.”
Spider gulped.
Jessica said nothing, nudged Spider in the side to urge her along. She
kept her back to Alice and her cronies the whole way back to the serving line, showing how confident and unafraid she was. But she felt their stares every step of the way.
14.
After a long night of fun and games with the warden, Helga slept in the following morning, staying in bed until the sinfully late hour of eight. She normally rose two hours earlier, same as the inmates, but her exalted position at Prison 13 meant she had some leeway not enjoyed by most other staff members, especially when it came to things like punctuality.
She rose from her luxurious bed and strode naked across the room to stand before a wood-framed full-length mirror. Heading into her mid-thirties, her body was nearly as flawless as it’d been when she was twenty. The only difference came in the form of some tiny lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth. Most people, being understandably distracted by her height and statuesque physique, would never notice them. But Helga did and she never left her quarters without concealing them.
Still, that one bothersome minor flaw aside, Helga remained proud of what she saw in the mirror. She was feminine perfection, the living embodiment of the standard male’s ultimate fantasy woman. In her years as a touring dancer, she’d met only one other woman nearly as physically perfect as herself, a heavily tattooed blonde named Dez, also a dancer. But Dez was dead now.
Sometimes she missed her days on the dance circuit. Not often. Just now and then, when she was feeling nostalgic. She’d been one half of a popular duo known as the Torture Twins. Her partner’s real name was Megan, but her stage name had been Vivian Ice. Their act had been heavily BDSM-based and featured loads of lesbian teasing, which always drove their predominantly male audience wild. Together they toured the USA and much of Europe for years to staggering success, making bank for a long time before it all started to go sour.
