Prison is not a very nice place, especially if you’re only 20 and every butch dyke fancies the ass off you. I started my term at the beginning of May and ten weeks later I was only just coming to terms with my 5 year sentence. I was in Holloway prison, having been found guilty of grievous bodily harm for stabbing a guy I thought was attacking me.
In the end, I was lucky the judge didn’t give me 10 years, because I nearly killed the guy, who it turned out was only trying to help me. The jury didn’t believe my story. They saw a street prostitute standing before them, who by nature – they assumed – was a low life and a consummate liar.
I looked guilty because I was working that night and there were no witnesses to back up my story. The judge begrudgingly accepted that there were extenuating circumstances and took into account my previous nonviolent offences.
I came from a tough background, so I wasn’t afraid of prison. I had been held in custody a couple of times before after being picked up for soliciting and dealing on the streets. The four months on remand, awaiting trial, was a gruelling experience, but nothing like being convicted and having to mix with a bunch of hardened criminals. The inside of one cell, I thought, would be very much the same as another, but I hadn’t reckoned on the dyke prison population at Holloway!
When a couple of 15 stone butch women seized my arms in the showers and forced me to my knees, while another grabbed my hair, my best option was to accept my fate. I knelt there while the leader of the gang used my mouth and came all over my face. There wasn’t a thing I could do about it.
I’m a tough cookie and I can stand up for myself, but I’m slim and only weigh 8 stone, so I’m dead easy to knock around. You have to be tough to survive on the street, but I’m not a dyke, at least I wasn’t until I spent time in Holloway.
Within a few days, I came to realize that 50% of the population of the Prison were either practicing Lesbians or part-timers. They would probably revert back after they were released and never look at another woman again.
It was a fact that half the women on my wing wanted to own my mouth. Eventually after a mini war between two warring factions I became the doll of a black woman named Eve. Somehow she organized my transfer into her cell and l was stuck with her for as long as she coveted me. Eve wanted to use my mouth, but more importantly she wanted to sell it to the male staff for tobacco, drugs and privileges.
She knew I’d been working the streets, but I told her that I was forced into prostitution and didn’t want to go back to doing it when I eventually finished my sentence. I truly did want to pack the profession in, but knew that my options were going to be limited after spending at least two years in prison.
I soon discovered that she was negotiating an arrangement with a couple of black male prison officers who were after access to me at night. Eve made an arrangement with the head screw, Daniel, who liked to watch through the Judas hole. Eve would strip me, spank me and play with my pussy for the officer’s and her own sick entertainment.
Then Daniel wanted more and arranged with Eve to slip into the cell during the night for a blow job. When I woke, I found the big guy leaning over me, preparing to make me perform. Male screws in the cells was absolutely forbidden, so I put up quite a fight, thinking it would scare him off.
Daniel hurt me badly during the tussle, slapping me around with his huge hands and almost breaking my arm to silence me. They backed off for a couple of nights until things calmed down. Then, after another beating with wet towels in the showers, Eve broke my resistance, because basically I had nowhere to go.
If I kept refusing, Eve would have beaten me again, probably while the sadistic guards watched and cheered her on. Besides, I wised up after I negotiated a share of the spoils! So after getting my privileges sorted out I began blowing Daniel whenever he was on duty. Eve’s status soared and I had all the protection I needed from the rest of the inmates.
The problem with being a young attractive girl, was that I stood out among the general population on our wing and try as I might to make myself look dowdy and unattractive, I couldn’t hide the fact that my body was in top notch shape. The prison food was disgusting and I didn’t have a bunch of friends bringing me chocolate, or other fattening stuff, so I found it easy to stay slim.
It was just a matter of time, before Daniel was demanding full sex in exchange for continuing the supply of burn and vodka. Once I got used to the goodies they were hard to give up! In the evenings I was a busy girl, but during the day I managed to stay out of Eve’s way by applying for every job going. I got lucky, which is a rarity for me, for the screws eventually assigned me to the laundry room.
So there I was, throwing sheets into huge machines and basically keeping my head down and out of trouble. I was working in the oldest part of the prison and felt as though I’d been transported back a century or two. The managers deliberately chose the younger girls to do the laundry work, because of the stifling heat and sweaty conditions, which suited us down to the ground.
We ‘dolls’, as the dykes liked to call us, had just started work in the humid drying room. We knew that the screws would probably pop their heads in every ten or fifteen minutes to keep an eye on us, but otherwise we were left to our own devices. We were working the morning shift and there were four of us loading and unloading the noisy machines.