by Smith, Bryan
Snarling, Alice raised the machete again and brought it down with a savage, animalistic screech. This time the blade cut all the way through and the severed head dropped to the floor. Blood fountained out of the stump, drenching the back of the head.
Alice scooped the head up and, grinning, held it aloft. “See!? See!?” She approached the trembling third conspirator, who was on her knees nearby. One of the guards—Sam—had his gun pressed against the back of her head. “This is what happens when you cross Alice fucking Kincaid! You tell everybody what you saw here today, bitch. And I do mean everybody. You got that?”
Shaking harder than ever, the Hispanic woman whimpered and nodded. “Y-y-yes. I will tell e-everyone.”
Alice laughed. “See that you do.” She turned away from the pitiful woman and flung the head across the room. It hit a wall with a splat, leaving a red mark there as it fell to the floor. “Kick that bitch’s head around like a soccer ball.”
A few of her underlings proceeded to do exactly that, making Alice laugh again.
Next she turned her attention to Ted, the big guard, who’d been eyeing the fresh corpse with a familiar, perversely lascivious glint in his eye. “Hey, Ted?”
“Yeah?” he asked, gaze still trained on Candice.
“Why don’t you go over there and stump fuck that cunt?”
A grin slowly spread across the man’s face. “Love to.”
He holstered his gun and pulled down his zipper as he approached the bench. At Alice’s instruction, Lucy and Shonda positioned the corpse at an accommodating angle for the big man.
Ted’s cock was already fully engorged by the time he took it from his pants. He stroked the shaft a few times, making it slick with pre-ejaculate. Then he attempted to insert it in the stump, which was still dribbling a bit of blood. Encountering resistance, he pulled out, tugged at something inside the stump, and then reinserted his cock. This time he achieved full penetration. He groaned as he began to pump the stump in earnest.
Alice watched for a moment before again leering at the third conspirator. “When fucking a neck stump, you always want to go for esophageal insertion. Makes for a smoother experience.” She giggled. “Or so I’ve been told.”
The Hispanic woman’s eyes rolled in their sockets and she fell over, fainting to the floor.
Alice smirked. “Look at that shit. Woman acts like she’s never seen a dude with a porn star dick fuck a dead woman in the neck before.”
“I don’t know what her problem is,” Shonda said, still working to keep the headless corpse in place for Ted. “I think it’s pretty hot.”
Alice smiled, mesmerized by the jiggling of the dead woman’s boobs. “You and me both, baby.”
Then she took a quick backward step as Candice’s severed head went rolling by.
Another of Alice’s girls chased after it, giggling madly.
8.
Once her ordeal in the interrogation room was over, Jessica was installed in a tiny holding cell for what felt like at least a few hours, though it was hard to tell for sure. She was normally good at guessing the passage of time without the aid of a clock, but the conditions had her off-kilter.
She was in what amounted to a lightless void. The sealed room was swathed in perfect blackness. There was no low-level light seeping in from anywhere else to which her eyes could slowly adjust. She had utilized similarly aggressive psychological tactics on enemy detainees. This was one of the things you did to people who were especially resistant to normal interrogation techniques. Her background in that area made her better prepared than most for a situation like this. However, after being choked to the point of near-unconsciousness so many times, she did not feel as mentally strong as usual. Her head felt swimmy and she was too aware of the rapid beating of her heart.
The other big factor that had her off-kilter was the size of the cell. She felt like she’d been squeezed into the crawlspace of a serial killer’s house. She couldn’t fully extend her arms or legs in any direction. Not helping matters at all were the heavy shackles still around her wrists and ankles. Among many other things, her special forces training had taught her how not to lose her shit during extended periods in cramped spaces. She had logged dozens of hours in spaces even smaller than this one, preparing her mind in the event she ever wound up in a situation like this one.
But that had been years ago. She had been out of the military for a long time. Some of the more extreme aspects of her mental preparation had faded. Now she felt too closed in, the cramped darkness a giant glove squeezing her, making her heart beat even faster. At times she felt close to hyperventilating. She again felt weak and helpless, just like in the interrogation room.
She was sitting on her ass, rocking back and forth with her knees pulled up to her chest, when she heard a dim sound of footsteps. Her breath caught in her throat and she immediately went rigid, staring straight ahead. The footsteps were the first thing she’d heard from outside the cell since the beginning of her confinement in the tight space.
She flinched when she heard the loud unlatching of the cell’s heavy-duty locking mechanism. The door then began to swing open and in washed light that, after hours enclosed in perfect darkness, seemed brighter than a thousand suns exploding simultaneously.
The guards dragged her out of the little cell and jerked her roughly to her feet. A hard poke in the back from the end of a baton indicated she should begin walking down the narrow corridor. Not wishing to invoke the ire of anyone in the wake of what she’d endured already, she complied at once and began shambling forward as best she could in the shackles.
The guards said nothing as she continued down the corridor, but after she’d taken several halting steps, one of the men began prodding at her ass with his baton. One time he slipped the shaft between her legs and pumped it back and forth. A guard laughed. Whether it was the one poking at her or his colleague, Jessica didn’t know, nor did it really matter. The one made no attempt to stop the other, thus they were equally complicit. And, hell, maybe both of the motherfuckers were doing it.
A fresh rage built up inside her as the mistreatment continued the rest of the way down the corridor. She yearned to break free of these shackles and put some of her training to work. There were many ways to kill a man without weapons and Jessica knew most of them. These clowns would be dead within seconds, but Jessica found it within herself to hold back her rage. She was at a severe disadvantage here, after all.
It was already obvious that Prison 13 was a place where systematic abuse was not only tolerated but encouraged. She had a feeling her payback list would continue to grow by leaps and bounds in the days and weeks ahead. But that was okay. Jessica had no moral qualms about killing in large numbers, having long ago lost track of her personal kill tally.
The obnoxious behavior of the guards did subside somewhat as they exited the narrow corridor and entered a wider one. Jessica glanced backward, glimpsing a sign above the door through which she’d just passed. It read in large block letters: SOLITARY. A shudder rippled through her at the sight of it. She hoped she could keep her temper reined in enough to avoid a return to this part of the prison, but she knew that wouldn’t be easy.
In any prison environment, the last thing you wanted was to be seen as weak. Jessica had no intention of letting that happen. The guards and staff were one thing. She had to take shit from them, at least for now. But the inmates? They would fuck with her at their own peril.
She and her escort soon arrived at a junction between major sections of the prison. As they passed through another door into yet another, even wider corridor, she saw a sign with arrows pointing in opposite directions. The way to the left led to C-Block. To the right was D-Block.
One of the guards poked her hard in the back with his baton, pushing her toward the right. “That way, inmate.”
Jessica started shambling in the indicated direction. In a few more minutes, they passed through still another door and then they were in the
inmate housing part of D-Block. Peering over a railing, Jessica noted a handful of inmates moving about on the floor below. Most passed from sight within a few seconds, moving quickly, as if in a hurry to be somewhere.
“It’s almost lockdown time,” one of the men behind her said. “The end of the day for scum like you. But you’ll learn all about that tomorrow.”
Jessica grunted, said nothing.
D-Block was comprised of three long cell levels, ringing a large open floor below. Right now she was on the second level. A quick glance around showed that most cells were already closed for the night, though a few were still open, presumably awaiting the return of ass-dragging inmates.
At the direction of the guards, Jessica turned left and continued along the second level landing until she was ordered to stop outside an open cell door. She glanced inside and saw a largish woman—tall and kind of chunky—sitting cross-legged atop the top bunk. The woman was a brunette, with a somewhat doughy but not unattractive face. In her hands was a battered old paperback book. She set the book down and smiled when she met Jessica’s gaze.
Right away, Jessica didn’t like what she was seeing. There was something of the predator in this woman’s eyes. She would try to intimidate Jessica, she was sure of it, believing her to be nothing other than a typical, vulnerable new arrival.
Jessica was told to turn and squarely face the open cell door, a directive she complied with immediately. She was told her shackles were about to be removed and that she had to remain completely still during the process. Again, she did as instructed and at last was free of the shackles that had so inhibited her throughout the day. She experienced another flicker of rage. In her mind, she saw herself wheeling about and killing these men with a couple of concisely executed moves, after which she’d pitch their worthless carcasses over the railing.
Discipline, she told herself. Hold on to this feeling for later.
She was told to enter the cell. Yet again, she did as she was told. Once she was inside, she turned to face the guards, looking them more fully in the face than she had before, committing their sneering visages to memory. She hoped she would see them again under vastly different circumstances.
Both men laughed as they turned and walked away. Jessica watched them go, feeling another flicker of that ever-simmering rage. But then she heard her cellmate slide off her bunk and drop to the floor behind her.
A hand landed on her shoulder, squeezing hard. “Hello, honey. Guess what? You’re gonna be my new slave. I was all upset when they took Sally away this morning, but it looks like I’m getting a serious upgrade.”
The hand came away from her shoulder and reached around to squeeze one of her breasts. Jessica’s eyes flicked downward, watched the plump fingers fondle her breast through the fabric for another moment.
The woman laughed softly, a warm breath against Jessica’s neck. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you? My name’s Laura. What do they call you, sweetheart?”
“You don’t need to know my name.”
The woman laughed again. “Uh, well, I kind of do, seeing as how we’re gonna be living under the same roof.”
Jessica shook her head. “That’s not true.”
The hand kneading Jessica’s breast froze. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means your life is almost over.”
Before Laura Grier could react to this statement, Jessica seized her by the wrist, gripping it hard as she spun about and forced the woman to the floor. Laura sputtered and gagged as Jessica locked an arm around her neck, shifted position atop her to grip her more firmly, and then gave her head a savage twist. The sound of her neck breaking was one of the most satisfying things Jessica had heard in ages. After a long day of unaccustomed victimization, she was again on the other side of that equation, back where she belonged.
She figured she would be punished for the impulsive act, but right then she didn’t care. Too much fucked up shit had been done to her today. That rage—at least some of it—had to go somewhere, after all.
In another moment, she willed herself to relax and let go of the corpse. She glanced through the cell bars. The landing outside was empty. The cell walls were concrete, so no one in the adjacent cells had witnessed her murder of Laura Grier. Unless a camera was hidden in here somewhere—a possibility—it was possible no one at all had seen this go down. This in turn meant it was possible the corpse might remain in the cell with her all night. Unless, of course, she summoned the guards and she wasn’t about to do that.
Instead, Jessica climbed up on the top bunk, picked up the book Laura had been reading, and opened it to the first page. It was a horror novel by some guy she’d never heard of before.
She read until lights out.
9.
PRISON 13 AFTER HOURS: THE NIGHTSIDE TOUR
The privacy sheet hung from a rod like a shower curtain, blocking any outside view of Alice Kincaid’s cell. This was against the rules for obvious security reasons, but the usual rules, for the most part, did not apply to Alice. The new warden had ordered the sheet removed after the previous year’s bloody uprising, but in time Alice was allowed to put it up again.
The otherwise strict lights out at ten rule also did not apply to her. As in every other cell, the overhead light switched off precisely at ten every night. Alice, however, had lamps and candles, things that would have been considered contraband if found in the possession of anyone else.
Instead of the usual twin bunks, her cell was outfitted with a much more comfortable futon. Also, much of the concrete floor was covered by a large shag throw rug. She was stretched out on the rug now, clad only in black panties as she slowly lowered her mouth down the engorged length of Sam the guard’s cock. The way he moaned and squirmed on the rug when she swirled her tongue along the underside of the shaft pleased her. She reached between her legs, fingering herself with one hand while she squeezed his balls with the other hand.
Sam was in love with her. In the outside world, his feelings for her would not have been a shocking thing. She was pretty, short but blessed with a curvy, sexy body, a cute, kittenish face, and a mass of dark, curly hair that reached past her shoulders. The male attention she’d always attracted wasn’t a mystery to her.
But this was not the regular world and having feelings for her made life difficult for Sam. Illicit arrangements like the one he and Ted had with Alice and her crew were expected and tolerated within certain limits. However, the formation of emotional attachments to inmates was considered dangerous and was expressly forbidden. Those found in violation of the rule would typically have a drastically shortened life expectancy.
Alice shifted position on the rug, taking the hand from between her legs to focus on pleasuring Sam. She took him deep into her mouth several more times. She saw the way he clutched at the shag rug and knew he was close to orgasm. Taking him out of her mouth, she shifted position again and pulled his cock between her breasts. Pushing them together, she began to aggressively titty fuck him. He gasped and arched his back, clawing frantically at the rug. Seconds later, he went off like a rocket, multiple spurts of jism hitting her in the face.
After he was done shooting his load, Alice got to her feet and went over to the futon. She sat serenely on its edge and watched Sam, who was still stretched out on his back, panting away as if he’d just run a marathon. On an aesthetic level, she preferred the bigger guard, Ted, but he only seemed interested in women on a sexual level when they were dead.
Hearing the muffled voice behind her, Alice turned her head and smiled at Lucy Thorne. Though she’d never made it official, she considered Lucy her second-in-command. She was tough and smart and thus excellent at keeping underlings in line. Shonda Danning had the same qualities in near equivalent measures, but Alice liked Lucy a smidge better for the simple reason that she was the prettier of the two.
Alice untied the scarf encircling the woman’s wrists. “Lift your head up.”
Lucy complied, rai
sing her head off the pillow. Alice reached behind her head and undid the snaps of the ball-gag. She then removed the device from Lucy’s face and tossed it to the floor.
Alice smiled. “You can sit up now.”
Lucy sat up.
“Now lick the jizz off my face.”
Again, Lucy complied without hesitation. She did it slowly, but only partially out of pleasure. This was all part of the show. The aim here was to dazzle Sam with raw, unrestrained sexuality and further soften up his brain, making him susceptible to doing things that were not conducive to his well-being.
No one ever escaped Prison 13. This was a basic reality unquestioned by anyone imprisoned within its walls. The facility was said to be a hundred times more impenetrable than Alcatraz in its heyday.
Using the increasingly weak-willed Sam as her pawn, however, Alice planned to become the first inmate to ever successfully escape the prison. According to the love-struck guard, staff members were granted five days leave each month. They were transported by helicopter to a location off-site, presumably far away. From there, they went anywhere they wanted until it was time to return.
Alice meant to be on that helicopter herself one day, flying away from this hellhole forever. Yes, she enjoyed a position of relative privilege here, but the thing about being at the top of Shit Mountain was that you were still on motherfucking Shit Mountain. And would-be usurpers would always be lying in wait. The latest big threat on that front was the Frauenschaft, a gang of hardcore neo-Nazi bitches. They had come out of nowhere, seemingly, and were growing in power every day. A time was coming when they might present a challenge that couldn’t be turned back as easily as pathetic wannabes like Candice and her crew.