Introduction:
The next day I woke up to find a different uniform than I had the day before. It was the same color but alterations had been made. The back pockets were gone and the fit was very tight. Mike told me he had shorts and more pairs of panties. He handed me a packet that had prison makeup. Basically crushed bricks and ash mixed with something else (to be used as rouge and eye liner). He told me to keep most of the items in the laundry were I worked so not to lose them in a room search. He started to walk out the cell for breakfast and told me to make his bed before I left and to join him at the chow hall. I did what I was told and made the bed, put on the pants (but not the make-up). I reasoned with myself that at least I would defy him this much. Maybe I could hold on to a shred of myself.
When I got to the chow hall I didn’t look for Mike, I was scared because I knew that I had not done what he said, so I tried to avoid him. I was approached by 3 black guys and they told me to come with them, Mike is waiting. I got in line behind Mike, received my food and followed him to a table. He immediately grabbed me by the hair and asked if I had said that I would be his bitch. Just yesterday, do you remember? I told him that I remembered. He let me go and said nothing more, just ate. I ate very little. We went back to the dorm for count and he still didn’t say anything. After count we went to our job. Mike had got me a job working with him in the laundry. I was working for about an hour when he approached me and told me to go to the folding area. I did what he told me, but when I got there, 3 guys were there waiting for me. They grabbed me and pushed me down face first onto one of the tables. Mike came in and started to unbuckle my pants. I was terrified that I was going to be gang raped. Once my pants were down the guys tightened their grip and I couldn’t see what was happening. Fire leaped across my ass. Mike was whipping me with something and the pain was excruciating. He hit me again and I tried to get out of their grips, but they bore their weight on me and I couldn’t. Again I felt the pain and again and again. My eyes were filled with tears and after 10 strikes Mike stopped. When I finally stood and turned Mike was handing an extension cord to his friend. He came over to me and said that I would do as he said from now on. Next time it will be much worse. I told him that I would and that I was sorry. He told me to get dressed. I could feel blood oozing down my leg from one of the strikes. I used a towel nearby and gingerly touched it to the spot where blood was coming out. I saw that it wasn’t as bad as it felt and tried to get dressed. This was very difficult for the pants that Mike had given me were very tight and hurt when I tried to get them up. I finally did so, but the pain was immense. It was hard to walk, it was hard to sit but I managed to get through the day.
That night Mike had me wait on him constantly. He first made me change into very tight briefs that had my lower but cheeks bare, wear a long t-shirt with a belt on my waist. This gives a look of a short skirt. He had one of the queens put my makeup on me and show me how to put it on myself. He told me softly that it would get better, don’t fight it, one day I will like the fact that most of the population desire you. I told him that that day would never come. He said I have two choices, suicide or like it. What you don’t understand is how pretty you are, you never had a chance in here.
At that time the Florida Prison System allowed you to draw 25.00 a week from your account. Cash dollars. I found it crazy letting inmates have money, but that was how it was done. Mike had a lot of money and bought many things from the canteen. One of these things was coffee, but you weren’t allowed to have hot plates or anything like that in your cell. So they installed heated water dispensary in the middle of the dorm. This entailed walking through the dorm into the recreation room and filling your cups with hot water and returning to the cell. Mike made me go get the water. I had shaven legs, what amounted to a skirt on and makeup on my face. Humiliation was a tool that Mike used to distance me from the rest of the population and rely solely on him. I would walk to get the water with my eyes down, trying not to hear the remarks, people touching my legs and ass. One remark did scare me more than the others. The guy said as he was touching my ass that he would have some when Mike put me on the market. I didn’t know what he was talking about but I was too scared and humiliated to ask. I tried to think that it couldn’t possibly get worse than this.
That night Mike came to my bed and made me dance for him again, in pink panties. He rubbed my ass and told me that he was sorry he had to hit me. He rubbed lotion on my ass and said that he wouldn’t be fucking me until I healed. He lay on my bed on his stomach and told me to give him a massage. I did as I was told and when he finally had enough he put me on my knees and pulled out his cock. It was hard by this time and he made me lick and suck his balls for a long time before he had me get him off. I sucked him off and of course swallowed his cum. I was told that never to waist cum. If it ran down my cheek I was expected to use my fingers and eat it. This routine went on for 3 days. I would cry every night when I was alone and wonder if suicide was the answer.

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