Hard Time

by Lilly Lapland
(San Francisco, CA)

When you live where there are no rules, it can get kind of hairy, especially if you’re the underdog in the system. I was the underdog in a woman’s prison and it was difficult to maneuver throughout the day without having someone size up my ass or cop a feel of my tits. I’m not a hard-core criminal. I just happened to be at the wrong place, at the wrong time with the wrong people. My involvement got me 5 – 10, with a possible reduction to 3 years with good behavior. While I was in the ‘joint’ I just wanted to live below the radar and get out unscathed. But, I have to admit--I have nice tits and a sweet ass and I was working out every day. When you’ve got nothing else to do, working out becomes your religion, your solace, your peace. I loved the way I looked. It’s too bad I had to go to prison to find my inner athlete.

One day I was down in the laundry room doing pull ups from one of the overhead bars when I could feel someone’s eyes on me. When the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up that usually indicates danger, but when I jumped to the floor and looked back, there was only one woman standing in the doorway. I remember thinking if she attacked me, I could take her. I’ve gotten used to people sizing me up, checking me out when they think I’m not looking. If you’re as sensitive as I am, you can even feel their lust, knowing full well that if they had the chance to fuck you or sit on your face, they’d be all over that.

Well, they’ll never get that permission from me, not without a fight. I don’t want to be anyone’s bitch and when it comes to my sexual preference I’m ‘strickly dickly’. This pussy is waiting for some freedom dick. I’m sure I could get fucked by any of the male guards, but I wouldn’t give those punks the time of day if I wasn’t in jail. I certainly won’t give them any encouragement while I’m behind bars and at their mercy. No thanks. I’ll just wait until I can get the man I want inside of me.

Up until now nobody had bothered me; it was just looks. As long as they kept looking without touching, I felt I could make it out of here by my next parole hearing.

That’s what I kept telling myself. And then suddenly today, I could feel eyes on me. I’m playing it cool; don’t want to show fear. Glancing around briefly to acknowledge my voyeur, all I saw was one lone female. Since I didn’t see her as a threat I turned back to my exercise, jumped up, caught the overhead bar and continued doing my double-time pull ups.

I don't remember how many pull-ups I did but within a couple of minutes my arms were burning, hot and very tired. With the last bit of strength I had I tried to eek out one more. Instead I lost my grip and fell to the floor. In that split second, someone jumped me from behind and slipped a cloth bag over my head pulling the rope at its base very tight, causing me lose my balance backwards. All the while I was trying to loosen the rope around my neck when I realized my arms felt like lead from the workout I had just put them through.

The bag around my head kept me in the dark. I couldn’t see but I could feel a lot of hands all over me while they were taking me down; at least two on the left, two on the right, one pulling me backward with the rope around my neck. I struggled but my body was exhausted. My feeble attempts to escape only made me more tired. I tried thrashing, kicking and screaming. In their wisdom, they allow me to struggle. After all, the more I struggled, the more tired I got and the less resistance they got.

I couldn’t believe this was happening. Who were these cretins? Were these guards? Why was no one looking for us? I had avoided this for so long. I was up for parole next week. How could this happen to me now?

At this point no one had punched or slapped me. The air in the bag was stale and I felt dizzy from the tightness of the rope around my neck. Exhausted, I felt myself being hoisted up to my feet, the rope around my neck so tight I almost passed out. Once upright they quickly walked me backwards into one of the laundry room columns. It hurt so bad I saw stars.

I was dizzy, weak, lacking air. I could offer no resistance. Still blind to what they'd do next, they easily pressed my body and arms against and around the column so that my tits stood up and out, practically begging to be touched. Parting my legs, they secured a rope around both ankles to keep my legs spread. All during the assault, I hadn’t heard a sound. No one spoke. They just worked fast to tie me up and when they were done I was grateful that I still had my clothes on. That gratitude was short lived. The sound of fabric being sheared and a moment later my tits were out and available for all.

Feeling incredibly helpless and extremely vulnerable I pleaded with my assailants to let me go. I promised I’d never tell--as long as they didn’t hurt me, we could put the whole incident behind us. That’s when I heard them snicker and speak and it became very clear to me--my assailants weren’t men. They were some of the other inmates tired of waiting to taste some of my nectar and getting theirs before my parole.

I started begging and crying for them to let me go when one of them grabbed my tit and squeezed the nipple so hard I screamed with pain. “You want more of that?” She asked.

“No”, I sobbed through my gasps.

“Then behave. You behave and you get good stuff. You keep talking and saying things I don’t want to hear, and I can hurt you very much.” She pressed her scissor against me to emphasize her point. “What’s your pleasure?”

I didn’t know what to say. I was in no position to argue. My legs were spread, my tits’ hard nipples were betraying me, practically begging to be squeezed, and my arms were pressed back and down alongside the column making my tits stick out even more. I was at her mercy.

“Well? You haven’t answered me. We can do this the hard way or we can do this the easy way.” She grabbed my sore nipple again squeezing with a vise grip until I screamed “Stop, stop, alright, alright, please don’t hurt me!”

I dropped my head, shaking it from side to side not believing the words that had just come out of my own mouth. She didn’t like that I had shaken my head in remorse. Again, she grabbed my sore nipple, squeezing it so hard I screamed out loud again, once again begging her to stop this torture.

“Well, answer me. Let us have some fun with you and maybe I won’t cut you.” I could feel the cold scissor as she rubbed it down my face. I didn’t have a choice. I nodded yes.

“Good, now let’s have some fun.”

Her idea of fun was to fondle my tits until they were almost raw--pulling, squeezing, rubbing, slapping and sucking on them with complete abandon. My tits are real-- rather big and firm, so for a tit connoisseur, they’re a dream come true. And she was a tit connoisseur. The more she worked them, the more excited my pussy got. Ten minutes in and my pussy got so wet it started to gush; so wet in fact that as soon as the flood gates opened, I released such a moan that revealed my ultimate arousal. My assailant knew exactly what that moan meant and immediately stopped playing with my tits. “I like these”, she commented, but what I really want to taste is this.” She cupped my pussy and gave it a firm squeeze.

Within a second my pants were untied and pulled down to the tops of my thighs. Then I could feel the cold, hard scissor slither along my vaginal lips as she cut my pants down the center, revealing my crotch. I was vulnerable and naked to anyone who wanted to probe me. Like a starving dog she attacked my pussy, munching and licking, ignoring my tremors, my squeals, my pleas. Separating the lips, she swallowed all the love juices that her titty sucking had started. The harder she licked, sucked and bit, the more the juices flowed.

But when she parted my clitoral hood and touched my clit with the tip of her tongue, I knew I was in serious trouble. She was unmerciful, sucking hard, biting it with her lips, squeezing my mound with the hands of an expert and poking her dirty, unmanicured finger in and out of my dripping pussy.

When she had said ‘let’s have some fun’ I thought she meant just she and I. No, she meant the gang who had helped her restrain me. The pussy sucking continued, hard and relentless. So intense was her suction that I couldn’t help but shudder and shake as I went from one orgasm to another. While she was having fun with my pussy, the others were relentlessly squeezing, sucking, biting and slapping my shaking, ample tits, torso and ass and laughing at my helplessness. I writhed, shook and tried to throw them off with my jerking movements. But the more I resisted, the more excited and eager they got. After sucking hard came bites from my neck and ears all the way down to my Venus Mons and inner thighs. The more I screamed, the more they wanted from me. My screams were like gasoline to their fiery lust. I don't know how long they kept me there. It must have been hours before they let me go, but not until after they had used me up completely.

I got out of prison a week later, subdued during my hearing, praying that they couldn’t see my shame and humiliation, praying that those on the panel weren’t among my assailants. But that’s a story for another day.

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