Six months ago, if someone told me I would be a bitch to a jailbird, I would have laughed in their face, but here I am! Let me tell you a little bit about my life inside.

 

I am nothing more than my Mistresses handbag, there I’ve said it, her handbag, you see in prison, prisoners aren’t allowed to carry mobile phones or drugs, so they get some poor bitch to do that for them, so where do I keep all her stuff? Up my pussy of course. I carry round her mobile and a cigarette case in my pussy and her drugs in a condom up my ass. I walk behind her everywhere she goes, telling her when her phone vibrates so she can have me bend over and retrieve it from my pussy. (away from the guards of course!) She keeps it in a waterproof bag, she doesn’t like her phone to stink of me.

 

But hey, perhaps I’d better explain how I came to be in this hell hole. Firstly, never ever let your boyfriend dump stolen gear in your apartment, then scarper leaving you to take the heat. Three years, that’s what they gave me for handling. I tell you six months ago I was full of myself,  being pretty had got me most of what I wanted, long blonde hair and blue eyes, nice pair of tits, but I never thought being pretty would actually turn against you. Right after I got out of ‘processing’ where they strip you naked except for handcuffs and parade you round like some animal for a couple of hours while they inspect your teeth, your pussy and your ass, ‘in case you have any hidden objects’ yeah right, like the guards aren’t getting off on making me hold humiliating positions one after another. I saw loads of women go through this system in ten minutes flat, but not me. No they wanted a good look at my ass. Eventually they give me some jumpsuit, but I can’t put it on because they haven’t enough time, so I have to walk through the whole women’s prison naked. Bastards. I think that was the last time I felt strong, now, I am just some pathetic bitch, who is used and abused by anyone or anything.

 

They took me along the landing and stopped outside a cell, and introduced me to my new cellmate. Up until then I hadn’t been scared, I thought, wrongly, that the guards couldn’t do what they wanted, but being locked up with an evil bitch, and boy did she look evil, with no-one to help, scared me shitless! She was solidly built, tall with short cropped hair, tattoos ran up her arm and she looked like a little girl given some tasty candy! With a shove, I was in the cell, the door slammed and we were alone.

 

She started out friendly, I thought I had been wrong to judge her so strongly, but that did not last long. She told me she had murdered her husband, father and uncle with her bare hands, they had sexually abused her for years and she waited until she was strong enough to kill them. She made it very clear, that she was top dog on the wing, and that I had just become her ‘pet’. She wouldn’t let me put any clothes on and told me to lay on the floor, and spread my legs. I must admit, as I lay there with the chill slowly creeping into my bones, the enormity of my situation hit me, and tears fell silently down my cheeks. She went on to explain, as she worked her hand into my dry pussy, how the years of abuse had made her a little ‘kinky’ that she liked to dominate women and use them as slaves. She loved to ‘mind fuck’ them till they were nothing. Well, I thought, this ain’t going to take you long with me. She began to push and stretch my pussy painfully, until I could take her whole hand, I had no idea why she was doing it, I just could not wait for her to stop. It was then as she pulled out her mobile she explained it to me fully. Prisoners can’t carry phones or money, so they have little bitch handbags, who carry round their stuff for them. That is why she needed to stretch my pussy. Shame really, cause she could get a lot of money pimping me to the guards. Maybe she would do that soon, while it was nice and tight, it would help to loosen me up a bit. Perhaps she would even get a deal with the guards and who would pay a premium to take me out of the prison to a knocking shop and split the profits. All the time she was telling me this she was fucking me hard. I began to grunt with the pain, and I could feel my pussy swelling. Eventually she stopped, having decided that to pimp me out would be the best idea. She got up and had me clean her hands with my mouth, and for the first time in my life, I tasted my own pussy. I felt totally humiliated as I liked that woman’s calloused hands, she made a show of thrusting her hand right into my mouth and reaching down my throat. I tried to choke, but she held firm, her entire fist filling my mouth, the other on the back of my head. I began to see black spots, and thought I would die. Strangely dying seemed a good option, anything would be better than what life had in store for me for the next three years! Just as I felt myself floating off, she withdrew her fist, and air rushed into my lungs and I felt chocking coughs rip through me so much that I vomited.

‘What the fuck!’ She screamed at me, ‘clean that up you dirty bitch!’ my face was thrust into the small pool of vomit, and she held me down until, with a churning stomach, I began to lick up the acid. I don’t know how I managed it, but I cleaned the floor, without vomiting any more. She left me on the floor for a while, she was moving things around in a small cupboard.

‘now, let’s start as we mean to go on’ her smile was pure evil. ‘As you can see I am a fan of tattoo’s, I used to be a tattoo artist before I killed those bastards, and you are going to be my artwork. Every day I am going to give you a new tattoo, now didn’t you say it was three years? Well that’s three times 365, well I make that near on eleven hundred, give or take a few. So, sweetheart, when you get out you will be completely covered in my tattoos, you will never be able to forget who you are’ with that she laughed at her own joke.

 

So, six days later, I am walking around with her phone, and a wad of money up my pussy. I have no underwear, because she needs easy access, and it also means that she can get a dollar for a guard to feel up my tits. I have tattoos that read, ‘whore’, just above my shaved pussy, ‘use this hole’ with an arrow pointing to my asshole on my left and right thigh, ‘bite here’ round my left nipple, ‘slut’ round my right nipple, ‘property of Marcy’, along my lower back, so when she pimps me out, the guys fucking me know who I belong to. Even if I survive three years, I am never going to have a normal life again. Her influence also goes as far as the doctor, I have been through sterilisation, plus I get an injection on top to stop my periods, she wants to make sure she can always use me. 

 

I am a broken person, I eat my meals off the cell floor, grasping my hands behind my back, eating like a dog. Sometimes she spits in my food, sometimes I get dog ends, sometimes nothing at all. I am used to being beaten with her belt, and have a few marks on my ass. She stopped doing it yesterday because she wants me to look good for a pimping session she has planned between the guards and herself. Yet she loves doing the tattoo work, each evening passes painfully as she jabs needles into my skin while I am tied in place onto the bunk.

 

Six months ago, I was just like you, living my life, sexy sassy, now look at me.