From the Bailey Ja'Quaelah had to be transported via private security company to the nearest allocation prison. Eventually from there she would be shipped out to her more permanent 'home' for the next twelve years. In the back of the caged van Ja'Quaelah sat between the same two female private security warders that she had in court. One wrist was cuffed to one of them, the other wrist to the other. She had looked blankly down at her thigh as the warder on the right had lightly stroked her thigh.

"Get your filthy hand off me bitch - I'll get you taken to a slaughterhouse and dismembered slowly whilst you're still alive. Just one word from me to someone on the outside and you'll be history, eventually."

There was no doubt that Ja'Quaelah meant what she was saying. The tone and the intent in that voice was enough to demonstrate that not only did she mean what she was saying but that she could easily have it done. In the event, the warder, or guard didn't remove her fingers, or her hand from the vicinity of the black girls smooth, shapely thigh. Rather she leaned into the girl. This warder rather obese and unpleasant as it was but it didn't stop her pressing her mountainous breasts into the almost 'petite' frame of Ja'Quaelah and then whispering,

"You know honey, you'll get your 'perks' because of who you are and why you're being sent down. You'll get even more perks for not snitching. But you're gonna have to earn the rest. You're still gonna have to work your way up. You're still gonna be someone's bitch. Don't get caught up in your own hype sweetie because I have seen bigger harder sluts than you take a fall."

As the woman spoke and pressed herself into Ja'Quaelah so her fingers drew little circles on the girls thigh. Those circles getting higher and higher until the finger tips slipped under the prison issue tunic that she had been changed into under the Courts at the Bailey. To Ja'Quaelah, what this woman was saying made sense. It all made sense, it was all logical. This young woman should have been falling to bits. She had not long before been sentenced to a fifteen year prison stretch, twelve of which, as far as she knew she would definitely have to serve. As far as she was concerned she would be in her mid-thirties when she was released. And yet behind that, behind that acceptance of her immediate and more distant future she was thinking logically. She was thinking about that future and how best to get through it. She knew that she would have the protection of the gang, even inside. And that she would be looked after and yet she also knew that she would have to play the game a little bit. In effect she would still have to work her way up the food chain. She would still need to forge her way ahead. To an extent she would be arriving in prison, any prison that the authorities cared to send her to, with a reputation. As though her reputation would be proceeding her. But at the same time she was street wise enough to know that in the system, in the prison system there would be a network of people, like a queue to take her down. In the early days and weeks and months at least she would have to watch her back. And she would need to get in with others who would watch her back. Even certain fellow gang members eager to make a name for themselves would like to have a pop at this one.

It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that Ja'Quaelah was able to think quickly and to process information even more quickly. And as she thought about the warder's words filtering into her psyche and staying right there, so that same warder's fore and index fingers were slipping inside of her sex. At first those finger stimulating the labial lips, finding the clitoris and dancing expertly over that. This warder, this obese bitch of a guard had done this sort of thing before. Ja'Quaelah's wetness came naturally.

"Good, good girl. When we get to the unit, I'll put a good word into the right ears for you. Make sure you get treated real good, real soon."

 

And true to her word, that obese, obnoxious woman did put a word in ears. Wether or not they were the right ears could be open to debate. Ja'Quaelah was on her knees in a holding cell. She was in the process of being checked in as it were - what is it they call it in the prison system, 'reception'. She was in the middle of the reception phase of her incarceration. Standing in front of her was a male prison officer. A big burly white guy probably in his fifties. He was feeding his cock into Ja'Quaelah's mouth and he had her stark, brilliant ginger hair wrapped around his fist. He was using the leverage of that hair to rock Ja'Quaelah's head back and fore, back and fore. She was playing the game. Kneeling docile, allowing herself to be used by this man. A man who should have been looking after her, a man who should have had this young woman's best interests at heart. His cock wasn't so much long as it was fat. It was a short fat cock that at any other time would have made Ja'Quaelah wretch. Apart from the fact that she favoured other women over men, although technically she was bi-sexual and in her relatively few years had experienced the best of both worlds. Sometimes she just needed a cock. But this wouldn't have been a cock that she would have chosen to service, or have service her under any circumstances. But she had processed the words from that warder in the caged van. She had processed that and prioritised things.

"Whoaaaaa you ginger black cunt those lesbo bitches are gonna love you in here and wherever you eventually get sent. Don't you worry now, I'm gonna do all I can to spread the word. for you. You're gonna get a real good reception wherever you go."