Hard Time For Anita

Hard Time for Anita

Ladyvet

Their shackles made it difficult for Anita and the other women to climb down from the van. Their descent was further complicated by the chain between their shackled ankles fastened to manacles locked to their belly chains. The transport officers watched them negotiate the long step to the pavement without offering assistance. It didn't matter to them if an inmate fell. They were just cargo to pick up, transport and deliver. Anita stared though the two razor wire-topped fences at a world forever barred to her. She savored those brief minutes in the parking lot, knowing they would be the last she would ever spend so close to the Free World. The last woman carefully negotiated the final step from the van to the pavement. A transport officer handed a clipboard to the receiving officer and said, "We need a bucket and mop pusher. One of the stupid bitches puked in the van." The fact that she had she repeatedly begged them to stop because she was sick didn't matter. She was just cargo.

Anita luxuriated in the bright sunlight and fresh air while the receiving officer locked their right ankles to a chain, then she walked in lock step into the relative darkness of the prison. Each chain-hobbled step took her farther from her husband and daughters and deeper into the world of loneliness, deprivation and abuse.

Three loud knocks on his door broke Harvey Frankel's concentration. He closed the file and barked "enter!"

"Sorry to bother you, Captain," his subordinate said apologetically. Everyone knew The Captain didn't like being disturbed when his door was closed. He might be with someone. The sergeant extended a clipboard and file folder to his Watch Commander. "We finally got the count to balance. We missed…" Frankel cut him off with an impatient shrug and pointed his jaw at the door. The man backed out and closed it behind him.

Frankel sipped his lukewarm coffee and looked at the clock. Two-thirty a.m. Four and a half hours to shift change. Mid shift dragged sometimes. He thought about all the crap he got from friends and family about working for the Federal Bureau of Prisons. "You have a degree, for God's sake! You could get a real job, make serious money…" He defended his career choice by explaining that the work was steady, the security excellent and he felt he was doing something worthwhile. He couldn't divulge the real reason he liked his job so much.

He opened the folder and leafed through the incoming inmates' files. "I love the War on Drugs," he thought happily. War casualties provided him with a steady supply of fine, reasonably clean women; most of whom would never have given him a second look in the Free World. Sure, some of the inmates were pretty nasty; strung out junkies, weight lifting carpet munchers or vicious, hard core, dangerous criminals but the majority of women who became his charges and playthings were everyday people who got screwed by the system, husbands, boyfriends, family members or total strangers cutting deals to get off lighter. Mandatory minimum sentencing produced a steady procession of victims serving outrageously long sentences without possibility of parole, which was unavailable in the Federal system. Sure, they could accrue up to 54 days of good time per year if they kept their noses perfectly clean but that was only a fifteen percent reduction in sentence. A twenty-year sentence meant at least seventeen years in a cage and natural life guaranteed that they'd die inside.

He glanced at their mug shots and the notations on the women's personnel brief sheets in search of prey, putting aside those who were to old, too ugly or too violent. The information defining their existence within the system was minimal, cold and impersonal. He found four likely candidates.

[75512-063 Mays, Jaqueline AKA Jackie] – [Caucasian] - [28] – [married / 2 children] – [high school] – [sales] – [first conviction/ federal / possession, non-violent – 10 years] She was new to the system. She'd probably be scared shitless. There was no way to know how she'd react to pressure. She could be either a good or bad prospect. She might want someone like him on her side to do little things for her. On the other hand, she might freak out and do something stupid when he started working on her. Some of them reacted that way. He looked at her picture and decided to let her acclimate for a while before approaching her.

[82312-102 Symmons, JoLeen AKA Josie]– [black] - [24] – [single / 3 children] – [GED] – [no occupation listed] – [first conviction/Onondaga County NY / possession] – [2 years] – [second conviction / federal / trafficking / leader + handgun – natural life + 5 years]. He pulled her jacket from the file, put his feet on his desk and adjusted his swelling cock through his pants. Minorities usually drew ridiculously long sentences. In the Federal system, natural life meant precisely that. Her life was over. He studied her picture. He didn't care much for black women in general but JoLeen appealed to him with her thin nose and light complexion. She'd been in the system before. She'd know the score. She should be easy.

[86331-104 Jeffries, Sara Jane AKA n/a]– [Caucasian] - [39] – [divorced / 4 children] – [college] – [teacher] – [first conviction / federal / possession with intent, non-violent – 25 years] Her first stop on the endless road through nothingness to being released at nearly 60 years of age with no hope of starting over. Probably a setup, he thought but maybe she was conducting a little recreational pharmaceutical business on the side. She probably needed a hell of a lot more money than teacher's pay to take care of her kids. The taxpayers were taking care of them now. He didn't like them as old as she was. There was plenty of younger stuff to be had but she looked pretty well preserved. Besides, he thought, she might be horny enough to make up for her lack of youth. Some older ones worked pretty hard to keep their pussies happy.

[95562-012 Morris, Anita AKA n/a]– [Caucasion] – [36] – [married / 2 children] – [college] – [business owner] – [first conviction /federal / conspiracy to possess with intent to distribute + distribution of cocaine + conspiracy to commit money laundering / leader / continuing criminal enterprise, non-violent] – [natural life + 20 years] This is an interesting case, he thought. Hell of a sentence for an educated white woman with no priors. He studied her picture and found her vaguely familiar. Big, wide-set eyes, nice cheekbones, straight, thin nose and inviting lips. A real Patrician. He shuffled through the forms that chronicled her life since she lost control of it to the system. Transferred from a minimum security Club Fed after sixty-three months. He read her Discipline Reports, knowing how bogus they probably were; disobeying orders (3), out of bounds – a term sometimes used for getting caught masturbating, (4), disrespecting an officer (2), contraband (3). Three snapshots of a nude man with an erection were stapled to the back of the fourth discipline report. He examined them and saw the telltale marks left when the bathing suit drawn on with water-based marker was cleaned away with shampoo. He made a mental note to ask who he was and how she had gotten his pictures.

A small red X on the back inside cover of her jacket explained her transfer. He knew the code. It indicated that someone considered her a high profile inmate; a potential source of trouble or embarrassment. Perhaps they wanted her out of Camp Parks because she was making trouble of some sort, maybe focusing too much attention to the system by complaining to her family or the press, stirring up the other inmates or agitating to get her sentence reduced or overturned. He'd see to it that she was a lot quieter here. Lack of access to the press, closely censored mail and phone calls and tightly controlled visiting would keep her off center stage and firmly in the shadows.

Frankel was restless. He and his wife had been bickering. He hadn't had any in days. He phoned Lieutenant Dawson, who did his dirty work. They had an unspoken agreement. He covered for her while she did what she wanted to with the women. She arranged private access to inmates when he wanted it. The lieutenant walked in without knocking and sat on the edge of his desk. He wouldn't have allowed any of his other subordinates to pull that crap but he needed Dawson and she knew it.

"What's happening, boss?" she asked, staring at the front of his trousers. "Looks like you got a roll of quarters in your pocket. Gonna make some phone calls?"

"Fuck you, you scrawny black bitch," he answered without anger.

"Cut it off and I'll stick it in!" she replied. They both laughed. Dawson was a one hundred percent pure dyke. Not even a freshly self-amputated cock would entice her.

"What can I do for you?" He handed her JoLeen's jacket. She looked inside, closed it and handed it back.

"You seen her?" she asked with a smirk.

"No, why?" he demanded. He was in no mood for conversation. He needed to bury his cock in something warm, wet and, preferably unwilling. His favorite pastime was having sex with helpless inmates, especially married ones who hadn't had it in a long time. They tended to be the horniest, in his experience.

Dawson held her arms out in front of her belly. "Bitch is out to here. Can't believe they transported her. She looks like she's gonna drop twins any minute. Still want her?" So much for his first choice. Frankel shook his head and handed Dawson Anita's jacket.

"Get her ass in here if she isn't knocked up too." Dawson noted Anita's cell assignment. It was 3:00 a.m. She liked to roust inmates in the middle of the night. She had to be awake. Why shouldn't they?

"You gonna tune her up a little?" she asked hopefully. She had a mean streak a mile wide. Nothing pleased her more than watching someone get on an inmate's case except doing it herself.

"No, just want to give her an intake interview," he replied. Dawson smiled, winked, grabbed her crotch and left. Getting someone out of housing gave her an excuse to prowl around. No telling what might be happening in those cramped little two person cells. She kept track of the dykes and made their lives hell. She didn't like competition.

Dawson yanked Anita's blanket down and shined her flashlight in her face. Startled and disoriented, she blinked and covered her eyes. Dawson slapped her hands away from her face and ordered her to get up and dress. Anita's cellmate sat up in her bunk. Dawson ordered her to lie down and close her eyes. The woman complied. She didn't know what was happening but she knew she didn't want it to happen to her. Dawson cuffed Anita's hands behind her back, locked shackles on her ankles and propelled her roughly out of the cell and through the labyrinth of security gates and hallways to Frankel's office. Dawson shoved Anita into the room and asked Frankel if he wanted her jewelry removed

"No, Lieutenant," Frankel replied. Dawson looked at Anita and leaned against the wall.

Frankel barked "I'll call you when I'm finished." Dawson shrugged and left. No entertainment tonight.

Frankel pointed to a straight-backed wooden chair and ordered Anita to sit. Sitting with her arms cuffed behind her back and ankles chained together would be uncomfortable but comfort of any kind was a luxury long since forgotten. She shuffled over to it and sat down without hesitating.

"I looked over your file," he said, nodding to the closed jacket on his desk. "You're a trouble maker, aren't you?" She looked down at the floor. She knew better than to answer. It wasn't a question. Frankel was disappointed when she failed to rise to the bait. He picked up her file and waved it at her.

"Do you know doing the kind of crap you got in your file will buy you time in the hole here? This isn't a Girls Scout Camp like Parks. We run a real prison." She winced. He liked that. She wasn't numb yet. He was lying about her file but she had no way of knowing what was in it. She'd never be allowed to look inside. She definitely looked vaguely familiar. He tried to place her while they talked.

"Maybe I'll be able to help you stay out of ad. seg.," he said with a magnanimous smile, then added "depending on how cooperative you are." She looked up at him in alarm. She'd heard about things happening to people maximum-security prisons. She doubted they were empty rumors.

"Tell me about your case." He stared closely at her, still trying to place her. She moved her left arm farther behind her back to bring her right hand to her side. It was easier to talk if she could gesture a little.

"My husband and I owned an import-export business. Our overseas partners were smuggling narcotics. We didn't know anything about it. We were convicted even though there was no direct evidence against us," she replied. He asked if they were guilty.

"No sir," she replied then added "but that doesn't matter, does it?" He smiled. He liked a little spunk. They were no fun if they were stupid or rolled over too easily.

"No," he replied. "It doesn't make a fucking bit of difference to me. BoP has nothing to do with Justice. We just warehouse their customers." He took a cigarette from his desk, lit it and held it out to her. She bent forward, took it between her lips, inhaled and smiled at his unexpected kindness. He removed the cigarette and put in the ashtray. She watched the smoke drift up in a thin, gray column, wanting more but not daring to ask.

"Your husband flip over on you to buy a pass?"

"No sir. Neither of us was doing anything illegal. We had no knowledge of what was going on. We refused to lie and play their game." She took a deep breath. "He got life, too."

"Tough break for the two of you and your kids," he said and gave her another drag on the cigarette. "How old are they?" He didn't give a damn about them one way or another but appearing to care was an excellent way of establishing rapport. Frankel wasn't satisfied with just fucking inmates. He needed to fuck with their minds, too.

"JoAnn is eight. Marilyn is six," she answered and sighed. "I was pregnant with Marilyn during the trial. I haven't seen them in over two years. My cousin adopted them" Frankel shook his head and tried to look sympathetic.

"You should have given the prosecutors what they wanted, even if you had to make it up. Maybe you could have cut a deal for ten or twenty years. Now you're gonna rot forever." She bit her lip and held back her tears. The first thing an inmate learns is that displays of emotions are punished. He glanced at her file again.

"You got a few tickets for being out of bounds. Were you running at fences or did someone catch you giving yourself a hand?" She blushed and averted her eyes. He waited for her to look up again before he said, "Some prisons write DRs for masturbation as "out of bounds." Her blush told him she hadn't been written up for being someplace she shouldn't have been.

"Can't blame you for trying to get off," he said conspiratorially. "Being caged must be a huge pain in the ass after being married and fucking your old man any time you liked." He watched with satisfaction as her blush deepened.

"You got three tickets for contraband. What was it? Dope?" He knew the answer but he needed to keep her talking.

"I never used drugs," she replied. "It was pictures of my husband." He removed them from the file and spread them on the table in front of her. She took a deep breath.

"Your husband?" he asked. She nodded without looking up from them. "My sister found them when she was going though my things. She drew a bathing suit on them and sent them to me. The mailroom passed them. I thought I'd be able to keep them. They confiscated them 4 years ago when they tossed my cell."

"You were lucky to get them at all. Marker's an old trick. Nude pictures are against the rules, you know." She nodded.

"I took them when we were honeymooning in the Bahamas," she said as she stared longingly at them. He was getting closer to figuring out how he knew her. He asked where she attended high school. He recognized her as soon as she answered.

"Your maiden name was Conway. Your sister Madeleine is three years younger than you, right?" he asked.

"Yes!" she replied in amazement. "How did you know?"

"I dated her for a while," he answered and held the cigarette to her lips. "You were a senior when we were freshmen."

Anita looked at his nametag and asked "Harv"?

"Right!" he exclaimed. "I used to watch you play tennis and sunbathe by that pool in your back yard and think how hot you looked!" It had been a long time since Anita had seen a friendly face. She'd never expected to see anyone she knew so far from home, especially in prison. She smiled, relaxed and told him she was glad to see him again. He shook his head and shrugged.

"You've come a hell of a long way from being a prom queen, Anita." He leaned forward in his chair to conceal his growing erection and held the cigarette to her lips again.

"You and your husband have been apart over for 6 years. It's very hard on you, isn't it?"

"Of course it's hard being separated. I miss him," she answered softly. Frankel picked up the picture of him masturbating while smiling at the camera, held it up and looked at her pupils while she stared at it. Damn right she needs it, he thought. Frankel got up, walked behind her chair and put his hands on her shoulders. She trembled.

"You must be so lonely." He slid his hands slowly down the front of her shirt. "We have to enforce the rules against homosexuality and masturbation but that doesn't mean you have to be completely frustrated here." He cupped her breasts. Anita stiffened with fear but didn't dare pull away.

"Nice," he said softly. "Shame to let these go to waste." He fondled her for several minutes. She relaxed a little but her relief was short lived. He told her to stand and pushed her gently backward until she stood against the wall.

She whispered "please don't" when he started to unbutton her shirt. He smiled at her helpless fear and pushed her shirt off her shoulders and down to her cuffed wrists. Anita closed her eyes while Frankel reached around her and unhooked her bra. He couldn't remove it with it her hands cuffed so he pulled the cups away from her breasts, raised it toward her neck and pushed the straps down her captive arms to get it out of his way. He cupped and lifted her breasts. They were nice and heavy and still reasonably shapely despite some stretch marks and the fact they were soft and starting to sag noticeably. He compared them to his memory of the way she had looked the last time he saw her by the pool. Her top had slipped down just enough to give him a quick peek at a pale pink nipple. They were dark brown now, courtesy of the flood of hormones that pregnancy produced and breast-feeding. He was happy to get at them even if they didn't quite measure up to his adolescent masturbatory fantasies about them.

"Harv," she pleaded softly. "For God's sake, let me do my time in peace."

"I can help you do your time more comfortably," he said softly. She bit her lip and shook her head. She touched the waistband with her right hand as if she were going to try to prevent him from sliding her pants down over her hips. He brushed her fingers aside and pulled her pants and white cotton panties down to her ankles. Anita held her knees tightly together and shook with fear, anger and humiliation. Frankel studied her naked body appraisingly. Her C-sections were thin and hardly visible. Her belly was slightly rounded and stretch marked but she had no cellulite or fat to speak of. Her waist was quite nice. She also had nice hips and a thick thatch of pubic hair only slightly darker than the honey blonde of her head. He glanced at the pictures of her husband and wondered how many times he had jerked off thinking about Anita since they were forcibly separated. He loved it that her own husband could never see or touch her again while she stood, naked, vulnerable and available to him. The irony of the situation appealed to him.

She turned away when he tried to kiss her lips. Frankel took her cheeks between his hands, moved her face back and kissed her. He let go of her face and kissed her again, this time pressing his hardness against her mound. Anita didn't return his kiss but she didn't pull away. He wrapped his arms around her body and held her tightly against him until a little tremor and exhalation told him she was relaxing. He wasn't above taking what he wanted forcibly but he liked it better as an unwilling gift.

Frankel always took his time and enjoyed what he could do for a woman as well as to her. It was more fun if she was sexually responsive rather than combative or weepy. He especially enjoyed forcing their bodies to respond despite their fear, anger or revulsion. He kept his left arm around Anita's waist and continued to hold her tightly against him while he ran his right hand up and down her immobilized arms and toyed with her handcuffs. He loved the sensation of power he got from totally controlling a woman. It made his orgasms sweeter and more intense. Anita fought hard to keep from responding to him but her needs were slowly winning out over her will. It had been such a long time since she'd been with her husband. The incessant pressure of Frankel's cock against her pubis was maddening. He slid his right hand down the small of her back and massaged the firm flesh of her buttocks. He moved from there to her anus while he insinuated his knee between hers.

Anita closed her eyes and imagined her husband's hands on her body and his mouth on hers. Frankel was going to rape her just as the system had but at least he wasn't violent. She thought of the old saying about lying back and enjoying rape if it were inevitable.

Harvey knelt in front of her and kissed her pubis. He always did that to make sure an inmate was clean before he proceeded. Anita smelled pleasantly of soap and just a hint of musk. He pushed against her inner thighs until she parted them a little, put his face between them and licked her. Anita gasped and shuddered. She managed to touch his cheek with one manacled hand but she could neither push him away nor defend herself. He stopped licking her and pushed harder against her thighs. She spread her ankles as far the shackles and her tangled clothing allowed. The air felt cold where his cheeks had touched her thighs and his tongue had wet her.

Anita's knees almost buckled when he parted her labia and licked her clit. She shut her eyes tightly, bent her knees, spread her thighs a little wider and touched his cheek while his tongue danced around and bathed her swollen, tingling little bundle of nerves. Her body responded to him even though Anita loathed him and what he was doing to her. Years of yearning and deprivation only partly relieved by brief episodes of furtive masturbation made it impossible for her to control her pent up needs. She panted and moved her hips in rhythm with his tongue.

Frankel stood up and kissed her with her wetness on his lips. Anita returned his kiss hungrily, eyes still closed, the memory of her husband's hands, mouth and body welling up with her excitement. He picked her up, carried her to his desk and told her to lean over it with her breasts resting on it and legs spread as wide as possible. Frankel unzipped his pants, freed his erection and put it in her hand. Anita squeezed and massaged the hard cylinder of flesh while she looked at her husband's pictures. Frankel was soon close to having an orgasm. He withdrew from her hand to keep from wasting the opportunity to penetrate her.

He walked around his desk, opened a drawer to get a condom and swore silently when found none. He was less worried about catching something from her than impregnating her. That would definitely be hard to explain.

She watched him, knowing what he was searching for. He returned to her without one, unwilling to waste an opportunity to have her.

"Please, not without a rubber," she pleaded.

"I'll pull out," he said and tested her with his fingers. Her hips jerked when he penetrated her. She was swollen and wet, he observed with pleasure. He put his cock against her opening and pushed gently. Delivering her children by Cesarean and her long, enforced celibacy since her arrest had left her delightfully tight. She was so tight his cock skinned back while he pushed inside her. He penetrated her slowly, savoring the sensation of her hot, wet opening around him. She started to moan when he was fully within her, his stomach firmly against her buttocks. Frankel reached under her with his right hand and massaged her clit while he squeezed her left breast. Anita couldn't remain still. She rotated her hips and scratched him gently with her nails, the way she had when her husband had taken her from behind.

He moved in and out of her in a slow, steady rhythm to keep himself from finishing too quickly. It was hard to hold back. She was molten hot and silken around him. Her G-Spot was so prominent he felt it plainly against the bottom of his cock head with each stroke. He pushed himself fully inside her and held still to hold off his orgasm. She felt too good to rush it. He had honestly intended to withdraw before he ejaculated but he missed the opportunity. Her vagina spasmed against him, milking him hard as her climax hit. He ejaculated in a sudden torrent at the sound of her voice when she hoarsely whispered "please don't cum inside me!" He thrusted hard and fast while he spurted. Anita panted and squirmed through her climax while he filled her. He stood behind her, playing with her clit to make her cum again and again so he could feel her pussy gripping and releasing him until he finally shrank and slipped out. Anita remained where she was, sobbing softly while her husband smiled at her from the pictures.

Frankel couldn't stand the sight of a woman after he'd fucked her, not even his wife. He pressed the intercom button to summon Dawson, then he unlocked one of Anita's wrists and ordered her to dress. She slowly pushed herself up from the desktop, turned away from him, fastened her bra and buttoned her shirt. Dawson walked in before she pulled up her pants and panties. Anita stood with her back to both of them and continued to dress.

"Got a bitch in heat there, Captain?" Dawson asked. "She's leakin' cum all over your nice rug!" Frankel jerked his thumb toward the door. Dawson ordered Anita to finish dressing, then she locked the loose cuff her wrist and shoved her out of Frankel's office.

"I'm gonna watch you, bitch," Dawson warned. "I'm gonna make sure you follow every rule to the letter or I'll make your life hell. You got it?"

"Yes Lieutenant," Anita replied in resignation.

"Don't make the mistake of thinking you have something going with the Captain," she warned Anita when they reached her cell. "He doesn't give a fuck about you. He was just masturbating inside you." She removed Anita's shackles, shoved her through the door and locked it. Anita turned her back to the door and pushed her wrists through the "bean slot" so Dawson could remove her cuffs. Dawson ordered her to turn around and listen closely.

"You tell me, nobody else, right away if you're late so I can take care of it. Captain don't need that grief from a whore like you." She nodded.

Anita collapsed silently on her hard bunk with tears streaming down her cheeks and Frankel's semen leaking out of her.

"Don't fret it none," her cellmate whispered. "He'll get tired of you pretty soon just like he did the rest of `em. Then he'll let you do your time the best way you can."