Dee

Two hours later, Carrie finished her tale. Dee sat back.

"So a pencil dicked white boy wanted you to start fucking his daddy. Daddy was an asshole sex trafficker. You ended up with a brother that was a brother any woman would kill for -- and you left him for his asshole nephew whose only redeeming quality was his dick?" Dee asked. Carrie nodded. "Girl, you sure fucked up. Let me see those tats you mentioned." Carrie flushed, standing up and turning away from Dee, and pulling down the back of her prison outfit to show the tattoos -- the continent of Africa and the sign of Black Power.

"You owned by Black Men, or all Black folk?" Dee asked pointedly.

"Umm ... all Black people," Carrie responded meekly. Dee nodded. Dee went over to Carrie, squeezing her round white ass.

"Nice. Had some work done, I see." Carrie nodded again.

"So what are you in for Dee?" Dee tugged Carrie's pants up, sitting back down.

"Dumb ass put his hands on me. Tried to **** my ass. Got in a fight with him, I won. It was on the second floor, he ended up falling down the flight of stairs, cracked his head open and died. Then they planted **** on me, to add more time. Been 13 years already. 7 left. Get some sleep, baby. You want to play tonight?" Carrie swallowed.

"Okay."