Tricia's Parole Hearing (Open- PM if interested)

RennyStyle

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Tricia's Parole Hearing (Closed)

After spending 18 months in prison, Tricia Wells is finally about to have her first parole hearing. Of course, the parole board has already determined that she's going to remain inside, but that doesn't mean they can't string her along for a while and see what she can do for them.

Current players:

Rennystyle: Tricia Wells
extreme_hetero_sex: warden/Tricia's arresting officer
Dale124: Tricia's stepbrother/guard

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Tricia paced anxiously inside her tiny cell.

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Ever since she had arrived at this prison, she had been waiting for a chance at parole. After 17 long months, she got word and spent the next month preparing her defense. Sure, she hadn't been a model prisoner, but she didn't deserve to spend any more time inside here.

But now? Her hearing was supposed to happen 15 minutes ago, and the guard still hadn't come to collect her. Were they just running late, or had they forgotten about her?
 
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Morgan's father Franklin had died a year ago, leaving behind a 10 million dollar estate. But the will had left Morgan with only a pittance. $100,000 wasn't chump change, but certainly not the fortune he had been anticipating. The bulk of the old man's estate had gone to Morgan's step-sister Tricia. But Tricia was in prison, so the money was to be held in trust until she got out. However, Franklin had put a proviso into the will. If she didn't get out within 5 years, the money reverted to Morgan.

The old man's logic was, if Tricia remained in prison beyond her original sentence, it meant the parole board had decided she hadn't learned from her mistakes and was unrepentant. Franklin was a hard, ruthless businessman. Even Morgan had to admit as much. But this proviso left him with an opportunity to get all the old man's money. All he needed to do was insure Tricia continued to be turned down by the parole board.

So, working through intermediaries, Morgan set in motion a plan to sway the members of the parole board into turning down Tricia's request for parole. But, not wanting to put all his trust in the parole board, he took the extra step of applying for the job of prison guard in her wing of the prison. Now he was on his way to her cell to retrieve her and take her before the parole board. But if she was late, he could always say she was being difficult or rebellious on the way to the board. It was his word against that of a convict. And being late for the parole board would reflect badly on her, not him.

It had been years since Morgan had seen Tricia. He wondered if she would even recognize him. Now was the time to find out. But he almost forgot the lines he had rehearsed, once he caught a glimpse of his step-sister. Damn, she was hot! This was not the little girl that had replaced him as the old man's favorite. This was a full-grown and gorgeous woman. But shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he concentrated on his plan.

"Face the wall and spread your legs. You know the position," he barked as he entered her cell and pulled out his handcuffs.
 
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"Took you long enough," she muttered under her breath. She faced the wall of her cell, spread her legs, and put her hands behind her head. She kept her eyes locked on the cinder block in front of her as the guard stepped into the tiny cell.
 
Tricia's cell was in the perfect location for Morgan's purposes. The last cell on the upper tier of the cellblock. There were no stairs at that end. So any guards approaching would have to climb the stairs at the far end of the cellblock and walk the entire length of the wing to get to her cell. The cells were all locked down at that time of the day. And no guards were in sight. So Morgan knew he had some time alone with Tricia.

Pulling her arms down and behind her back he snapped the cuffs on her wrists. And then shoved her face into the wall, his body pressing against hers from behind.

Jerking her head back by her long blond hair, he softly murmured in her ear, "Hello sis. Long time no see. Have you missed me?" He could feel her body tense as she recognized his voice.
 
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"Morgan!? What are you doing here?"

She pulled on her chained wrists uselessly, the chain wouldn't give. Her chest pressed against the cold wall as her head was wrenched backwards, causing her to grit her teeth. She squirmed, trying to get her pinned body out from between the wall and his body, but couldn't.
 
"You filled out nicely," Morgan cooed, as he ran his hand down the curves of her body. "You look good, even in prison orange. Too bad they don't make them in something a little more flattering. That might help you at the parole board. But in this outfit, they won't be able to see the hot body underneath. Now if they had a prison orange bikini you could wear to the hearing, you might be able to wrap the male members of the board around your little fingers. The females? I don't know. Have you learned how to turn them on during your time in prison, Tricia?"

"Now kneel," he commanded, not allowing her time to respond. Pulling back from her body, he bumped his knees at the back of hers, forcing her legs to buckle. He was never one to ask nicely. An arm wrapped around her elbows, he followed Tricia to the floor, never letting go of those long blond tresses of hers. He liked the pained look on her face, her head forced back at a most uncomfortable angle. When her knees were on the floor, Morgan took his arm from her elbows so he could run the fingers of his hand lightly over the stressed, but graceful arch of her neck.
 
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John Hurt was the warden of Tricia's prison. He was a young fellow. He was transferred here a couple of months ago. He was appointed as a temporary warden, due to the accidental death of the previous warden.

A year ago, he was a police officer. One night, when he had been patrolling the streets of the city, he saw a girl, fighting a guy. He jumped out off his car and rushed to rescue the girl, but when he had reached there, the guy had been bleeding and the girl, Tricia, was holding a blood drenched knife.

John immediately pulled the gun on her. She thought, she was in trouble so she jumped on him. For some strange reason, John hadn’t pulled the trigger. Instead, he had chosen to restrain her with his strength.

They had fought and struggled in front of the bleeding spectator. She had cut his forearm deep. A painful cry escaped from his mouth, but he didn’t let her go. He subdued her by sheer force. She had tried to escape from his power full grips. She had lost her futile fight against the well-built man.

John, though Tricia had cut his forearm, had admired her fight. She had been trying to free herself from his arms. He was turned on by her futile struggles. He had bent her over, put her wrists behind her back and handcuffed her wrists. Her skirt had been tucked to her waist due to their fight. Her full round ass was touching his huge boner.

Sexually, John was extremely dominant. He loved to use force on his partners. He loved to fuck them hard when they were restrained.

Tricia’s panty clad ass, against his crotch, had fueled his desires. Sadly, he was on duty and there was a bleeding guy standing a few feet away from them, so he threw her in the police car.

John was in the parole hearing room, revisiting the memory lane. He was waiting for Tricia. He was caressing the scar left by her.
 
Tricia strained in Morgan's grip as she was pushed to the floor.

"Let go of me, bitch." She pulled again on her wrists, wishing she could take his arms and snap them off. She reached with her fingers, hoping to touch his leg. Her fussing made him yank her hair again, and she yelled. Her back arched, and Morgan watched how her struggling and heavy breathing made her breasts bounce.

He mentioned the parole board, he knew she was supposed to be there. Was he planning on keeping her from them? She'd kill him if that were the case. She'd been here too long, she could taste freedom, and he wasn't going to stand in her way.
 
Tricia's struggles only made Morgan pull her hair even further back. Her waist and upper legs were still in contact with the wall, but her upper body was arched back so far, he was looking down into her face.

"My, how flexible you are, sis," he marveled. With her chest heaving mightily, he couldn't resist running his free hand down the top of her jumpsuit. And under her bra to squeeze one of those ripe melons of hers. Then to insure they were the same size, he slid his hand over to the other one for a squeeze.

"Nice and firm. But I'll get plenty of chances to sample them later. You've got a parole board to go to."

He removed his hands from her chest and hair and proceeded to lock cuffs on Tricia's ankles. Then a belt around her waist. And finally a chain running from the handcuffs behind her back, between her legs, and to the front of the belt. A chain short enough that it forced her hands tight against her ass and still barely reached the front of the belt.

"If you try and pull your hands away from your ass, that chain is going to dig into your crotch most uncomfortably. So, you'd best keep your hands on your ass."

Morgan gave her a smirk. And if looks could kill, the glare Tricia gave him would have struck him dead on the spot.

"I wasn't going to keep you from the parole board, sis. I just wanted you to be fashionably late, somewhat distracted and somewhat disheveled."

Hauling Tricia to her feet, Morgan stood behind her, running his hands through her hair, mussing it up till it looked like she'd been in a tornado.

"When they ask why you're late, I'll tell them you were most uncooperative and tried to attack me. You certainly look like you've been in a tussle. Of course, it will be your word against mine."

"Well, come along then. We've kept the parole board waiting long enough." Morgan grabbed the front of the belt, causing Tricia to wince. He used the belt as a handle, pulling her out of the cell and on their way to the parole board.
 
Tricia winced as she was pulled down the line of cells by the belt. She tried her best to keep up with him, but the small length of chain between her ankles made it difficult. The inmates inside their cells watched, chuckling, as she was led down the stairs and to the front gate. The chain between her legs rubbed harshly against her jumpsuit, digging into her crotch.

The two were let through and proceeded down a hallway to the hearing room. Tricia's heart began racing in anticipation when she approached the door. When they had stopped, Tricia tried pulling on her wrists again, and the chain tightened. She winced. She couldn't wait to have these removed.
 
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Parading Tricia into the room, Morgan gave the parole board a look of embarrassment.

"My apologies to the board, but the prisoner was being a little difficult."

The members glared at him. And then at Tricia. She looked like an unmade bed. Though an unmade bed that still looked lovely. After all, there was only so much Morgan could do to make her look a mess.

"That's alright officer. Those things do happen," the president of the board replied. But he didn't sound very convincing. Morgan plopped Tricia down in the chair in the middle of the room and moved to a seat in the audience, convinced he'd done his best to sabotage her chances for parole. He glanced at the Warden to see if he was buying his explanation. But it was hard to read the man's face. And he was so new that no one knew much about him.

"Shall we begin?" enquired the board president.
 
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"Ah!"

Tricia grunted as she plopped into the chair, the chain dug itself harder into her crotch. She squirmed on the plastic seat, hoping to dislodge it.

"Before we begin, I request that my restraints be removed."
 
"I think we have enough policemen in this room to keep you from escaping. Very well." the president of the board nodded to Morgan. And Morgan glanced over at the Warden to see if he wanted to intervene. But his eyes seemed to be fixated on Tricia. So with a grumble under his breath, Morgan pulled out his keys, went over to his step-sister, and unlocked her cuffs.

"Nicely played," he whispered to her as he did so.
 
Tricia gasped in relief as her wrists were freed and she felt the chain slip away from her crotch. To be free of the discomfort was one thing, but it would also make her look less dangerous in the parole board's eyes. She used her hands to quickly comb her hair, trying to make herself more presentable.
 
John saw restrained Tricia, entered the room. The prison guard, who brought her there, was a new guy. His eyes brightened by her helpless, chained body. He watched her ass with some interests. He liked the placement of the chain between her legs.

John was watching her unbuttoned jump suit. He could take a peek to her ample heaving breasts.

John wanted to take her right there, in front of everyone. He wanted to pull her jumpsuit and wanted to fuck her restrained body.

John was daydreaming so he didn't hear the call of releasing her chains. He was watching her like a hawk. He knew the corrupt parole board, wasn't interested in her release. He wanted to take advantage of her situation for his own pleasure.

John moved forward and presented the papers to the board members.

"Board members, Inmate Tricia is almost a model prisoner. She had some troubles with fellow inmates, but those were a long time ago. Unfortunately, I was her arresting officer too. I know her crime and I had a taste of her criminal behavior, when she cut my forearm with a knife. I still don't blame her because she was resisting her arrest." He explained to the board.

At that moment, John didn't want to take side so he took a safe road. He gave balanced opinion. He knew the board was biased, but he wanted to be sure about that.
 
Morgan nodded to himself. The Warden's prior encounter with Tricia explained why the man had gazed at her so intently. And with perhaps a touch of lust. His step-sister did have a knack of enthralling the opposite sex. Hell, she even had Morgan under her spell for awhile. At least until his fathers' attentions shifted wholly to her and away from his son.

He had always wondered if the old man had been one of those she had seduced. After all, he'd left 99% of his inheritance to her and only 1% to his first-born child. A financial imbalance that had Morgan contesting the will. But his lawyers had said the document was iron-clad. Except, of course, for that loophole that went into effect when Tricia ended up in prison. A loophole he intended to exploit.
 
Tricia composed herself and began answering the standard questions, how she had been spending her time in prison, if she was remorseful for what she had done, what she hoped to do on the outside. She answered their stock questions with stock answers, adding her own little touches hoping that they would sound authentic and sincere. She had been practicing them for the last month, but now that she was in front of them, she couldn't help second guessing herself. Everything she said felt forced and rehearsed to her, but whether the board felt the same way, she could only guess.

"Standard answers, Ms. Wells, but there are a couple items on your record that are concerning us. Would you be willing to answer a few questions about that?"

"Yes, of course." Tricia answered.

"I know Officer Morgan has expressed concerns about your conduct. Officer Morgan, could you please elaborate?"
 
This was where Morgan had to be careful. If he was thought to be deceptive, his allies on the parole board might just change sides. So he needed to lay some facts on the table before putting forth his case for Tricia's continued incarceration. Otherwise, she'd be the one to lay out those facts.

"Members of the board, in the interest of fairness, I should reveal that I'm related to the parolee. So I will admit to some biases. But the fact remains that Ms. Wells has a history of fighting with law enforcement, as the Warden has already attested to. If you release her without feeling beyond a doubt that she has truly reformed, you will not see her again in this country. Since she has a nearly $10 million inheritance coming to her once she leaves this prison, she will have the resources to flee this country for some non-extradition country. She will be beyond the reach of any parole officer that you might assign to her. So there will be no way of monitoring her behavior, like with most parolees."
 
Tricia lept to her feet, "that's ridiculous! Why would I flee the country if I've already served my time? It doesn't make any sense. Besides, if I left the country, I couldn't--"

She stopped herself. She shouldn't have said this. The board waited for her to finish.

"I wouldn't be able to sue for being railroaded in court. I'm innocent, and I don't just demand my freedom, I demand justice!"

She knew it was a mistake, she had been warned that her parole hearing wasn't about guilt or innocence, just how she had been conducting herself inside. But she couldn't help it. She felt she was innocent, and when she considered that, she felt she had been a perfect inmate.
 
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Morgan wanted to smirk, but he only wanted Tricia to see it. Which was not possible with so many watching. So he kept his face non-committal.

Surely she should know a parole board wasn't interested in guilt or innocence. That was for a court to decide. All a parole board was concerned with was whether she was contrite and rehabilitated. And her outburst wasn't what could be called contrite. But rather than state the obvious, he left the board to draw their own conclusions concerning her outburst.

Instead, he called on Sgt Kraus to verify that Tricia had been sent to the hole five times in the last 18 months. Of course, most those incidents occurred when Tricia first arrived at the prison, but an old pattern was still a pattern. And if the board rejected her request for parole, what better place to put her afterwards than the hole. There were no bars for bystanders to look through, thus giving him privacy to do whatever he wanted to to that luscious body of hers.

Sitting down, Morgan studied the faces of the board members. For him, nearly ten million dollars was riding on their verdict. The problem was, over the next five years, Tricia could have more than one chance for parole. Which means he would have to continually find ways of getting her petitions rejected. So any time within the next five years, he could lose that $10 million to her.
 
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Jack listened to Tricia's reply and he was amazed by the prison guard's knowledge about the case. He had a hunch of seeing him somewhere. It might be in the courtroom, but he didn't recollect his relation with Tricia. When the guard said he was a relative of her, he recognized him. He was her step brother.

Jack knew something fishy was happening, but he didn't care about that. He only wanted Tricia's full round ass against his boner. He didn't care about the decision of the board or the suspicious prison guard.

Jack came forward and addressed the parole board members, “Gentlemen, I think we all knew about the social conditions of the prison. A straightforward human being couldn't survive here, so I think five visits of the hole are trivial. If she is willing to change, we should give her an opportunity."

Jack knew he took Tricia's side. He had a plan. He wanted to lead her into the trap. He wanted to manipulate her. He knew if the board was against her, they would make her do something that she would regret later. He saw a couple of board members already eyeing her beautiful delicate body. There were some sparks of lust in their eyes.
 
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Tricia was relieved that the warden was taking her side, especially given their history together. But she knew that Morgan may have poisoned one or two of the board members against her. The hole was a red flag, and she hoped that Morgan was satisfied enough not to ask questions about it. If he thought the damage was done, they could move on to the next round of questions.

She waited uncomfortably in her seat as the men discussed her.
 
What was the warden's game, Morgan wondered? The truth was, when he made his plans, he hadn't factored in Warden Hurt. He couldn't, since he knew little about him. But the warden seemed to be siding with Tricia, even though she had attacked him in the past. Was the man letting his lust get the better of his judgement?

But then, lust was what Morgan was counting on when it came to select members of the board. He could see several of them eyeing Tricia in an unprofessional manner. If they set her free, making her a multi-millionaire heiress, surely they knew she wouldn't give any of them the time of day after that point. If they wanted to sample her charms, their only chance was to keep her behind bars, where they could have access to her.

Morgan knew his anger at Tricia was probably misplaced and unfair. But he couldn't rant at his father over his desertion of his son. The old man was dead. And he couldn't take vengeance on Tricia's mother for luring his father away from his mother. She'd remarried and moved out of the country. Which left Tricia as the only one he could focus his rage on. Yes, to blame her was unfair, but there was no one else left that he could blame. And of course, there was the 10 million dollars.
 
Tricia sat uncomfortably, knowing she was being eyed, desperate to defend herself. But the first rule of parole was to not speak unless spoken to. She wished her lawyer were here to advise her and to advocate for her, but he had never returned her messages. Morgan might have been to blame, Tricia couldn't be sure.

She crossed her legs, the stuffy air began to make her sweat.
 
Jack inspected the room. The room was surveillance free. They could do anything to her and no one would know a thing.

A board member started talking about Tricia's misbehavior during her time. He also stated her violent nature noticed by the court. They started discussing her crime of stabbing an innocent guy.

Normally, parole board members; don't discuss the prior crimes of the inmate. John knew where everything was heading. He turned his head to Tricia and gave her a sympathetic smile. He even nodded his head.

John realized he had to bring the obvious on the table. He had to ask them about their intentions of giving her parole.

"All right, officers, I think you all are against her parole. Is there anything she could do to win your trust?" He said that and turned his head to observe Tricia's expressions.

Jack knew, if the board members wanted to use her for their pleasure, they needed him. He could convince her. He thought, she would cling to someone who pretended to be with her.
 
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