Training Tricia (closed for momadness)

Supported only by her knees on the sofa and her belly on the armrest, Tricia flailed helplessly as she was violated from both ends. The mayor held her cuffed hands in place against her back with one hand while the other hand widened her asshole with the tail. The sensation kept her mouth wide, giving the warden's cock plenty of room to explore.

The mayor thrust in and out of her over and over again, filled with lust for the tall woman. If he saw her face, he would recognize her from all the society benefits, the fundraisers, her pictures in the magazines. If he knew it was Tricia, he would enjoy it. But her being anonymous, just any woman in a leather mask, was the biggest turn-on of all.

His cock rammed deep inside her.

"Mayor Tidwell! I----- EEEEEEEE!" Tricia screamed as her nipple was twisted/. Her body went hard, her muscles tensed. Leftover cum dripped from her lips and hung in the air.

"God, I didn't know it was you." The mayor responded. "Are you telling me this woman has been your training slave? How long has this been going on?"

He remembered all the parties they had attended together, all the sexy dresses she worn, how he wanted to see what she had underneath. What was behind the dirty looks between her and her husband. How she had earned her reputation. And what it would take to get her.

"Your honor, please... please make them stop this..." Tricia panted, and received another hard twist of the nipple. She was almost lifted up by the force. She knew that the mayor wouldn't do anything, he might not have had the power, but even if he took pity on her, he had eagerly fucked her. He approved of the program, he had shown that in the way he had fucked her. Even if Tricia was released, another woman would take her place.

Drake took Tricia from the sofa and forced her to kneel on the floor. Her hands were still chained behind her back, and she panted helplessly.

The force of the slap sent Tricia to the floor. She glared back upwards at her old friend, her cheek red and her eyes welling.

"You think I chose this?" Tricia answered back. "I didn't pick this, no one did! That man left me, sold me out and got me thrown in prison!" She stood back up, "And I was picked out of the crowd and brought here against my will! Do you know what they did to me!?"

Drake slapped Tricia hard on the other cheek, shutting her up.

Tricia bit into her gag as she was lifted up by her blonde hair. She squealed loudly as Drake shoved his cold fingers into her to stimulate her, thrashing helplessly with her chained hands.

At the sight of the mayor pulling his leather belt out of its loops, Drake shoved Tricia's face to the ground, bending her forward and leaving her ass in the air. She continued struggling as Drake chuckled, keeping his hand firmly gripped on her hair.

"Think you can hit a target that small?" Drake chuckled, watching Tricia's ass move.

The mayor smiled and gave Tricia a hard whip with the belt. It connected with her left buttock and she screamed. Her body tensed, and she barely had a second to breathe before the belt hit her again, forcing another scream out of her.

Tricia was still gagged, her hands still pinned behind her back. Before Anetta was allowed near her, one of the CO's took Tricia's cuffs and chained her to the table. She shivered when she felt the cold metal brush against her back.

The blonde slave moaned as the nurse took a damp towel and began cleaning her. The towel moved in circles, over several minutes. Once the stinging subsided, Tricia found it quite relaxing.

Once she was clean, Anette began treating the injuries. The ointment stung, and Tricia flinched harshly at each application. Two of the COs approached to hold her down, one putting pressure on her back and the other clutching her ankles. Anette continued as Tricia made noises through her gag, her eyes beginning to well up.

Tricia ripped the orange uniform off of her body and threw it onto her bunk. She kept her eyes locked on Drake as she approached the glory holes and spit on each cock. She then knelt at the center one, the inmate's long, thick cock already thrust through. She reached to the side and wrapped her fingers around each other muscular cock and began slowly pumping her hands forward and back, twisting her wrists.

"Fuck, just her hands feel great." An inmate grunted, his face pressing against the wall.

Tricia closed her eyes and wrapped her lips around the main cock and began sucking.

At the crack of dawn, a pair of guards approached Tricia's clear cell and unlocked the doors.

"Wake up, slave! Inspection time!" They pulled Tricia's blanket away and forced the woman to her feet and against the wall. The guards quickly groped her body and searched her holes and the cell. Satisfied, they put a leash around her neck and pulled her out in the cell block.

"You have a big day. Kitchen duty for breakfast and special training afterwards." One of them told her as she was led to the kitchen. Arriving, they handed the woman off to Cookie, the large chef that had beaten her when she had first arrived.

"Hello bitch, remember me?"

Cookie's fat cock rammed deep into Tricia's wet pussy. He gripped her by the hips tight as he struggled to push more of himself into her. Tricia buckled, the heavy shakers flailed, pulling on her sore tits.

The guards stood and watched as Tricia's hips buckled at Cookie's powerful thrusting. If he hadn't been holding her, she would have fallen onto the floor. The men watched smiling as the fat prisoner fucked the blonde woman, finally climaxing and drawing his cock out, his cum shooting over the back of her thighs and down her legs. Tricia exhaled in relief as she felt the hot flesh pop out of her.

Tricia shut her eyes and tried to endure the humiliation of the criminals cat-calling and molesting her. They took their napkins and salt and pepper, and many couldn't resist fondling her exposed tits. She breathed, trying to concentrate. When she opened her eyes, she saw more napkins falling between her feet.

Cookie was watching as the others served, playing with the cat as it rolled on Tricia's bare back.

Tricia waddled helplessly from table to table, her head lowered in shame as the convicts laughed at her, beckoning her, whistling at her. Hands pinched and grabbed her ass as she tried to keep up with demand.

One skinny man pulled her by his arm over to his table and bent her over, toying with the shakers before trying to knock them against each other like a Newton's cradle. The extra pain this put on her nipples made her scream.

Tricia tried to kneel in front of him, but her chains made it difficult. El Diablo helped by grabbing her roughly and pushing her down to the floor. There was a loud clatter, which brought the attention of everyone else in the room.

El Diablo took Tricia by the head and impaled her mouth with his cock, forcing the thick length deep into her. She choked as the tip hit the back of her throat, and El Diablo jammed himself in and out of her repeatedly, thrusting his hips up and down as the blonde woman screamed and thrashed. She gagged on him, saliva dripping from her open mouth.

Tricia slowly began to return to consciousness in the middle of a cold, tile room somewhere in the prison. The leather and contraptions had been stripped from her body, which was now held in place in a ribcage shower with stainless steel cuffs. She stood spread-eagle as workers pulled out hoses and took positions.

"What's happening?" Tricia managed to speak a few words as she regained awareness. The men said nothing, instead taking positions around her.

She pulled on the metal holding her in place. She was just strong enough to stand, but could barely make the chains rattle.

"Hose the bitch." One of the workers said.

The high powered sprays came to life.

With a tired groan, Tricia lifted her body off the mattress of her cell and forced her weak body to her feet. She stood against the glass wall as Drake entered. She raised her hands and placed them behind her head as he approached her.

The rest of the cell block was empty, with the inmates off on work detail while guards inspected the cells for contraband.

Tricia timidly covered herself with her hands as Drake pushed her forward into the cell. Her skimpy outfit left nothing to the imagination, and she wore no panties beneath the short length of fabric that was meant to be her skirt. She could feel the hot air in the room tingle her pussy, and it gave her gooseflesh.

"Get to it, whore!"

"What do you expect me to do?" Tricia asked weakly. El Diablo's stiff cock slipped out from the top of his waistband, and Tricia had no doubt it would be deep in her mouth or forced into her pussy, but she didn't want to jump on it. She could hold out hope that he only wanted a handjob, or to look at her in that outfit.

Her outfit. It was so skimpy, she could feel her nipples about to pop out from beneath the thin top. They were stiff, of course, and she didn't know how well the knot would keep the shirt together.

The stockings felt strange, it was unusual for her to be wearing something so common to her old life. They were lace and smooth on her legs, and the garter belt hugged her hip. The high heel shoes kept her posture ramrod straight, and made her ass stick out.

"You're dressed like a cop, aren't you?" Drake asked before stepping out of the cell. "Be a cop."

Tricia looked around nervously, as Diablo removed his trousers. His large cock appeared even bigger than before, thick and hard and hungry. She remembered the handcuffs in one hand, and the badge in the other hand.

"El Diablo," she stammered, "police."

Tricia gathered up what vinegar she had inside her and stepped forward forcefully. "El Diabo, I'm placing you under arrest for violating inmates and being an asshole." She wished she had come up with something better. Before El Diablo could react, she turned him around and forced a handcuff on his wrist, locking it tightly. She pushed him over to the wall where she could see a pipe attached to the concrete, then looped the empty cuff through it and straight onto his other wrist. If the cuffs held, he wouldn't be able to move much.

El Diablo chuckled at Tricia's surprising show of force, and his hard cock twitched. Tricia pushed herself against his back, forcing him into an uncomfortable position against the wall, his cock rammed hard straight up.

"You listen to me," Tricia told him, "I'm not for sale, and I'm not up for grabs. You and your men leave me alone from now on, do you hear me?"

Tricia didn't want to risk the handcuffs not being strong enough to hold him. She spun around and ran out of the cell. The heels made it tricky, but she managed to make it a few meters before a couple guards grabbed her. She tried to explain the danger she was in, but they weren't hearing anything. They took her by the arms and returned her to her clear plastic cell.

Tricia screamed as her sweaty body slammed against the plexiglass over and over, her cheeks smacking loudly. She tried to pull Drake's arms off of her but she couldn't.

"Thank you thank you thank you!" Tricia screamed as the stiff cock rammed deeper into her, she needed to bend over to make it less painful. When she tried to move, Drake pulled on her hair again and forced her back straight.

"Thank you thank you, oh god, oh god!" Tricia braced herself as Drake came hard, filling her and it began to dribble out of her. She waited for Drake to pull out, but instead he thrust into her a few more times, the cum working into a froth, smearing against their skin and the glass between them.

That night, after lights out had been called and all the prisoners had been locked away in their cells, Tricia lay on her cot in her plexiglass cage. The sound of the night watchman's boots as he made his rounds wre the only thing she could hear, outside of her breathing.

She thought about the impossible choice that had been forced upon her. She knew that she would have to submit to Drake at some point. She had been dreading it, but she hoped that he might become less cruel in the future, if he didn't have to force it. It seemed unlikely though.

But his demand? How could she be expected to hand over hr friends to please these people? She would be given access to her address book and a phone tomorrow and be expected to call her girlfriends. She ran over who she knew she could do that to. Who she could sacrifice to make her life a little easier.

It was 10 A.M. when a large black sedan rolled up to the visitor's entrance to the prison. Inside the expensive car say four beautiful women, dressed for a day out, lounging on the leather seats and each drinking a complimentary mimosa.

They had each received a message from their friend Tricia Wells, the subject of gossip and innuendo since her arrest, calling them to visit her today at prison. The four had been debating and gossiping since, theorizing as to Tricia's actual guilt, how she had been spending her time, and what this visit was really all about.

"I never doubted her guilt," said Denny, a tall blonde who was already on her third drink. Denny had always considered herself Tricia's best friend, but she almost only ever spoke about her in degrading her behind her back.

"Aunt Tricia would never do it!" A young woman interjected. Tricia's younger cousin Elisha sat upright. She and her older cousin always got along at every family gathering. The truth was Elisha didn't know, but she felt the need to stand up to her. She was also still feeling guilty for the time she had stolen one of Tricia's boyfriends out from under her at one of those gatherings.

"The truth is, we don't know what's going on." Tricia's actual friend, Lyn, tried to calm the group down. "That's probably why she asked us to come here, to explain everything."

"Well, there's one thing I'm very curious about," the final member of the group, Jessica Sims added, taking her final sip. "If this is how they treat their visitors, how well do they treat their prisoners?"

The four were about to find out.