A bitch's bitch.

There is no use fighting it. You gleefully surrendered to Erin even before she witnessed you wantonly whore yourself out to the scum of the earth. She walks over to a dark corner and brings over a hidden stash of panties, stockings, bras, and an altered prison uniform that makes hers look chaste in comparison. She tosses them over, sneering. "I won't have my bitch dressing less slutty than me. Put them on. You've got a lot to learn and not a lot of time to learn it."

You nod meekly and blush as you feel her eyes drill into you. You feel somehow more exposed dressing in the revealing wardrobe than you felt completely naked. Maybe it's because this marks you so clearly as a bottom bunk bitch. Your "pants" are cut so high they resemble skimpy panties and reveal the white lace trim of your see through black nylon thong. They are cut high enough in the back that every one can see the bottom of the bright red butt plug that keeps your hole ready 24/7. Your fishnet leggings can be spotted a mile away. Your top is "tailored" to be a midriff baring vest that shows off your pink, padded bra that gives the illusion of breasts until you can grow some hormone fed titties like Erin's. You look like the bottomest bitch in the joint...and you probably are.

It feels like every eye is on you as you make your way back. You look like a big blaring neon sign advertising free sissy sex, and you get the sneaking suspicion every one knows you weren't just playing scrabble behind the bleachers with the four fascist skinheads. On the bright side, at least your rep can't get any worse, and you no longer have to worry about acting tough.

Erin pulls you aside just before the end of exercise time. "Look, I am almost a little sorry for tricking you and I could even maybe see liking you just a little bit if you live long enough for us to get to know each other. So take my advice. Don't trust anyone...don't follow anyone ANYWHERE, and if you get backed into a corner, offer your throat first and cunt second. You've got to keep that honey pot tight. Anyway, I'll see what I can do about getting you transferred to my cell, so lay low until then."

She gets the strangest look on her face, like she's surprised and a little disappointed in herself, then she gives you a quick kiss on the lips, like she can't help herself, and scampers off. Before you can figure it out, you hear the bell announcing it's time for work detail and you head off to the mail room.

While in line, the con behind you begins groping your ass without a warning. It causes the plug inside you to rub up against your sissy button and leaves you horny and hungry for something harder and deeper. He offers to show you a "shortcut", but you heed Erin's warning and stay in line. By the time you get to the mailroom, you are dripping with need, but you do your best to stay focused and keep your wits about you.

The moment you report to work, a menacing looking guard pulls you aside. "What's this?! You aren't in uniform, prisoner. Mitch, you watch these animals, I'll see to this punk." You know Erin said not to follow anyone, but you don't have a choice. You just hope you can sweet talk his cock into letting you off easy.

He cups one of your cheeks and kneads it as he leads you to the empty shower room. Every step causes your plug to send needy pangs shooting sweetly and sharply through you. By the time you arrive, you are so **** for relief, that you're ready to beg him to fuck you and offer any price he asks.

"So, Barbie, I hear you're a great cocksucker and have a real nice cunt. The question is, just how friendly do you want to be? A blow job a day might get you a wardrobe pass. But giving me everything? Well, let's just say I could make your stay here a lot more...comfortable."

You remember Erin's warning, but you are so tempted to just give him everything. It's what you were born to do, after all...but, maybe you have a higher purpose...as a bitch's bitch...