Chapter Text

By: Alex Max

Email: [email protected]

  Original story written by me. It came to me randomly one night and I felt compelled to write it. I know it’s been done before, but I wanted to share my own interpretation of this kind of Sapphic “behind bars” F/F trope. 

  All rights reserved. Do not copy this onto any sites without permission.

…

Chapter 1: New Home, No Hopes

Mickie Gianno 

She sat in earnest and listened to the verdict from the court’s judge. She sat in her nicest, most curve-showing dress. She had plenty of curves and a tight, toned butt from her time in gymnastics at a younger age. 

Mickie Gianno had been, after graduating in the top of her class at Texas Tech for Marketing, she relocated out to California for a better chance at being a professional. 

However, her side hustle. The one thing she really was passionate about was racing. She had always been a bit of a tomboy (or, as her dad often said, “tomgirl”). Why? 

She had a slim figure and a small pair of boobs, yet all of her assets were focused on her long, shiny legs and toned, tight ass. 

She knew she was naturally thin, but she liked to work hard to keep her butt high and toned. It wasn’t for anyone else’s eyes other than herself. And to feel good in herself. 

Basically, the reason she was so slim and worked out so diligently was because she was a disciplined, go-getter type of woman. She loved her body that she had attained through rigorous workouts. 

She knew she was a great go-cart racing driver. She had to stay in solid shape for it. Why? Simply because it made her feel like she had confidence in her body, in herself, and in her racing. She started out doing some small-time drag races that were on tracks back in Texas, sanctioned by the town she grew up in. 

While she got good, she never really won anything in those last two years while in college. A few junior championships in the female Under-21 division, but never won a Top 4 prize in the gender-neutral racing. 

In the following years, she did as her parents said and went into work for an advertising company as a social media marketing manager. 

She knew she wanted more than what she had. Eventually, after another year of that job. She got burnt out. From traveling over 40 miles round-trip for her job, and having to burn through money because of the fuel cost and living expenses, things began to really hurt her. 

Searching for meaning in life, she saw a billboard above her one day. 

She looked above her head. She read a sign that promoted any stunt women or stunt drivers that could do difficult racing scenes. 

She turned her life over at the age of 26 to being a stunt driver in shows and films. This allowed for her to get a nice, steady influx of money from something that she liked and enjoyed doing. On top of that, she did continue to market herself and built up a side-hustle in social media management and SEO strategy content. 

She was called one Wednesday to a friend’s house. 

They explained to her that they were in trouble with debts and money, and were in need of a driver to get them to the bank and then to a hide-out some 50 miles outside the city. 

She, being a good friend, decided to help them out. As cliché as it was, she really didn’t think much of this ask from her friend. 

Not more than a day after this bank drop-off did she realize she might be in trouble. 

The verdict was one she and her lawyer knew that would signify how many years she would get. She knew she was guilty. She had already taken that plea deal. 

“Guilty of what?” One might ask. 

Mickie was simply guilty of being in association to a bank robbery she had no idea she was a part of. “But I had no clue that they were robbing the bank” does not really sit well with the jury or the court’s view on things. 

The facts remained what they were. 

The other two had ratted her out as their getaway driver after being arrested.

 She, on that following night, was approached by the police. 

She asked, “What am I being charged for, though?” 

The police, having heard this hundreds of times, said, “We will tell you, but for now just take a seat in the back of the car, please. Don’t make this hard.” 

On the spot, she knew she might be in trouble. 

“But for what?” She asked one female officer, who was no older than 30. 

The officer turned to her and sighed roughly before explaining to her that she had been a part of a bank heist and that she was seen on camera as the getaway driver. 

“But I really didn’t know.” 

The female officer, calmly, extended a question back, “Well, then why did you not stop when the police were there?” 

She shrugged and said, “I was just panicking. And I… I suppose I was going too fast. But I know these roads too well. So, I just hid in an alleyway.” 

“You need some better friends, hon.” Was what the officer replied. 

That day, she was apprehended by the police. Them telling her she was an accessory to a robbery at a bank that also led to a late-night security guard getting badly injured in the rush out the door. 

Thankfully, the security guard survived the attack. 

Bad news, she was also going to be charged for speeding and reckless endangerment.

 She was too quick and too good with the car for the cops to catch her at the time. 

The officers who were witness to her being the getaway attested to that. They even seemed a little impressed that a little, five foot tall and 115-pound woman with a soft face, gentle curves, and a heart-shaped butt could be such a ferocious driver. 

The judge gave her some mercy, only because she knew Mickie’s mother, a retired DA in the city of San Antonio, but then also struck the gavel, saying, “With this verdict from the jury, Miss Mickie Maria Rachelle Gianno is guilty of the charges; 1 count of “accessory to an armed robbery” and 1 count for “endangering the public.” These counts will equal out to a 6-year sentencing. This sentencing can be reduced to a 3-year period with good behavior.” 

There was a sudden uproar in the back of the courtroom. Some sorry mom who almost got run over by the police while in pursuit of her vehicle. It's not my fault for them not having good driving awareness like I do. 

The gavel fell two more times in quick succession as the judge wrangled the court’s audience back into silence. 

She finished, slamming the gavel one last time before explaining, “This sentencing, due to a plea deal taken by the defendant, can be re-assessed for a lower amount with good behavior. The other part of the plea deal is that the defendant wishes to be relocated back to her home state of Texas for the remaining 18 months to be closer to her mother. This will be granted to the defendant after the defendant does a minimum of 20 months in our State Correctional Facility… This court is adjourned."

Her and her lawyer, who was a good friend of her mother’s, stood up and she shook her head in equal parts disgust and sadness. “I thought I’d just get a fine or something like a year of probation.” 

Her lawyer, a short, blonde-haired, plump woman in her mid-50s, simply patted her on the back and said, “We took the best deal that we could get for the time being. This at least will give me a chance to get back to the office and start making some calls out to help you. At least for now, just keep your head down.” 

“6 years is the best I could get?” She asked softly. 

Her lawyer simply shook her head and explained, “It will, like she said, get dropped down eventually…” 

Her lawyer then grabbed her bags and was forced to watch as Mickie was put into handcuffs by the court bailiffs. Mickie held her head high even with the overwhelming sense of impending doom coming over her. 

She knew this was the end for at least 5 years. Maybe three if I’m able to keep my head down. 

She then roughly said, getting to her head, “And I will work very hard to get you transferred back to minimum security in at least San Antonia, okay? Just be a little patient. Keep your head down. I know how it works in those prisons. They have gangs, both Black and Hispanic, and you will need to find someone of your own race you can trust.” 

She nodded and said, “But I’m mixed Korean and Italian, who would I be with?” 

Her lawyer simply nodded at her and explained, “Find that one person to help you in there, and you will survive long enough for me to get you reduced and transferred.” 

With a long, suddenly exhausted sigh, she nodded, ``Fine… I will survive this… like everything else.”

…

After being transported to the prison from the transport van, she was led in with other new prisoners. All with a variety of different ethnicities and backgrounds and reasons for ending up in the same place as her. 

After being escorted through the front door with the others, she was walked through the blocks and into a large office space where she, as well as the reason for why she was there, was booked into the prison’s system.

 Mickie waited her turn, while in alphabetical order, for her to change into the prison’s permanently assigned jumpsuit. It was not flattering on her body, but she didn’t complain about it. 

This was her only time, and only chance, to be alone after not being allowed to be alone for any long or short periods of time since being arrested. 

There was a female prison guard in attendance, but she turned away from her. 

The guard seemed very strict and said, “You’re lucky.” 

“Why’s that?” 

The guard simply shrugged and said, “The new warden wants to speak with you. She’s the newly-appointed one. Pretty, if I can say that. Still, she’s hardcore. Definitely seen some shit when she worked down south.” 

The guard, still facing away from her while she put on her jumpsuit, simply explained, “My name is Sergeant Billie Daxter. I’ve been doing this for a while now… The only friends in here for you, will be us guards and those in your room. If you answer her questions and speak clearly with her, you won’t have any issues. If you don’t comply with whatever it is she says, you might be in for a very unpleasant time here.” 

Mickie nodded shortly and said, “No problem. I just want to do my time and get out.” 

The guard looked at her finally and shook her head, saying, “This might be a min security prison, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have any bad ladies in here. They are probably already lining up for bids as to what big dog will get first dibs on your ass… You’re way too pretty to not be protected.”

Mickie’s heart raced at hearing that. The rude awakening of what she might be in for was finally, fully, dawning on her. She sucked down her fear quickly. 

The guard shrugged and said, “Don’t worry. We have full surveillance and full security during showers. Nobody is allowed to do any kind of assault here without harsh penalties. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to just get on the warden’s good side. And maybe a few of us guards, too.” 

Mickie thought about it and decided to just play along for the time being. “Okay, I am curious as to this warden. And what she wants from me.” 

The guard finally made her turn around and cuffed her arms in front of her. She led her back out into the main room with the others. 

She physically was handed over to the other guard, another female, and her guard, Daxter, simply said, “You’re good to go back with Sergeant Larnes here. She will take you to your new… residence. Remember to keep your head down, but also on a swivel.” 

She looked at the guard for a moment, curiously, then nodded at her. She turned and was brought to a new section of the prison that she didn’t know at all. She followed the guard until they reached the other main cell blocks. Then she was told to stop suddenly by Sergeant Larnes. 

“Take two steps to your left.” She did as instructed. “Take one step forward into the cell.” She also did this.

“Turn and face me.” Larnes said deep, but slowly. 

She turned to face the guard. Now that she could see her closer, she could tell Larnes was probably Asian or even Hispanic by her face and hair. Her eyes were dark and her lips a natural lighter tint. Her face was a tan complexion and she was a bit thickly built, but not fat at all. She had more muscle than fat on her. 

She was just as intimidating as the other large inmates she saw out in the courtyard. 

She uncuffed Mickie’s raw, chafed hands and then uncuffed her feet. After this, Larnes announced to Mickie’s new cellmate, “This here is Mickie, she will be your cellmate starting from here on. At least for the next few months, maybe more.”

The cellmate, gruffly, replied “Alright.”  

After this, she left Mickie and walked back the way she came. Probably to finish patting down and getting all the new arrivals into their assigned cells. 

Mickie still could not turn to face her new cellmate. She was fearful, not of her race or her face even, but how hard it would be with the woman. 

The woman spoke softly, “Don’t worry… They don’t put the serial killers in a cell with a bank robber– in minimum security.” 

Mickie turned to face her and defended herself immediately, anger suddenly creeping in, “I really didn’t… know!” 

Mickie looked at the cellmate of hers and almost lost her breath.

 The woman, even without any makeup, was even more stunning than Mickie ever thought. She had preconceived notions of female prisoners being on the rougher side of looks, not so feminine or sweet-looking. 

With a shower, which it looked like the woman hadn’t had in a few days, she would’ve been even more stunning. 

She had long brown hair, quite a bit darker than Mickie’s own lighter hair tone, and dark blue eyes. She had a noticeable bust, but a slim figure that had just hints of top-level fitness underneath that simple orange jumpsuit. 

She suddenly stepped closer, trying to see if she was beautiful closer up, and the woman stood up quickly, in a defensive position, “What do you think you’re doing?” 

She shook her there with a single look. Breaking her out of that momentary lustful haze. 

Mickie composed herself and said, “Sorry, I-I just didn’t know jails had any other… pretty women.” 

The woman gave her a curious look, and then a quick once-over, before simply saying, “Thanks, I guess.” 

The woman looked at her for another intense moment. Those eyes holding Mickie’s own. Then the woman simply nodded and said, “Don’t worry about it. Everyone is on-guard here. You never go walking up to someone like you’re in some freaky trance.” 

That nearly made Mickie blush at the comment. She ran a hand through her hair and said, “Will a handshake be okay then? I’m Mickie Gianno.” 

The woman stood up fully to shake her hand and Mickie realized at that moment just how tall the woman was. 

The woman shook her hand with a hardened grip that belied her physical beauty and introduced herself, “My name's Lyla Strew. Spelled with an ‘e’ in it. Oh, also, since you seemed like you were shocked, I’m six foot one and 160.” 

Mickie tightly nodded at that and the woman shook her head, saying, “Now, you gotta be much tougher than that in here, brownie. I can still hear a bit of that down-south action in your tone, so you must be used to being a tough Southern belle, right?” 

Mickie smiled for the first time upon entering that hellhole. She then got serious again, simply looking at the floor and said, “I guess. I grew up in Texas. But, I moved out here in 2017 for work, and then started doing some street races on the side for some extra cash. Led me to getting a deal with a legit stunt driving team.”

Lyla nodded softly and said, “I, and most in here, know who you are already by name if not for face. You became known as a top-level stunt driver.” 

Mickie finally took a seat on her firm, strong mattress for the first time, “Yep. And now I got into this shit because of… hanging with the wrong people.” 

Lyla sat at her own bed and shrugged, saying, “You’ll hear that a lot in this place… Most don’t even care about the shit you did to get you in here. Unless someone fucked some kids. Then they definitely do care.”

Mickie sat down on her own bed and said, “What did you do? I was really innocent as the getaway driver. I didn’t even know what was going on.” 

Lyla looked down at her book and thought about something, then explained, “Before, I was deep into drugs. Painkillers, specifically. Got in deep with some sharks. I was approached by someone I knew to do some work for them, with some moving. Make some extra dough on the side… Work off my debt… Then, some bad men started knocking and asking me to manage some girls. Then it became a whole lot more than that. Once I got clean, I decided I didn’t want any part in whatever trafficking circle I ran in. Once I learned there were minors involved in those exchanges, I got out. But they had enough sway to get me put in the max prison over there… Like I said, nobody really gives a shit about the sob stories. That ego? That respect from their roomies and their people? That’s what matters here– They, some of the bitches, care about that piece of ass.” 

Mickie, afraid to ask for fear of the answer, questioned, “Nobody tried you, right?” 

Lyla shrugged and quietly said, “Everyone tries.” Lyla shook her head and then explained, “I don’t like that new warden there, but she’s far better than the last one we had. He gave a rat's ass about us… Most of the fights happen in the showers between the Blacks and Hispanics. Occasionally a mixed race gets involved, or even a White, but for the most part, you’re fine if you just keep your eyes forward. Do not make eye contact. Do not start fights. Only protect yourself. That’s the reputation we talk about here. You gotta get your rep up. If I find I can trust you, my people here will stick with you.” 

“And you think your group will actually protect me?” 

Lyla firmly shook her head, “No. They roll with me, though…” 

“Can I ask you why? Why roll with you?” Mickie asked nervously. 

Lyla shrugged and said, calmly, “I’ve been here for seven years now. Got two left… Drugs and stabbin’ a muthafucka who wanted me to run kids. She did deserve it, by the way… A few strings pulled and she got me locked in here.” 

Mickie almost got lost in the shift in Lyla’s story, but re-focused and asked, “So, what’s the deal then?” 

Lyla brushed the hair out of her eyes and said, “Well. I don’t make any promises here. So, when the warden comes calling for you… I suspect sometime tomorrow… You will play nice… And you will tell me everything she says, and if she wants you to do anything while in here… You just say “No thank you,” and then I’ll keep you safe. But will they–” she pointed as one of the guards walked by, “when it comes to it– will they protect you when shit goes down? We protect our own here if they don’t.” 

Mickie nodded and said, “Don’t worry. I don’t plan on letting anyone hold power over me. Or do anything without me liking it.” 

Lyla nodded softly, almost knowing where Mickie was going with it, and then explained, “Everyone sticks with their own race regardless of if they are racists or not. I’ve never been racist, but I don’t like the Black or Hispanic gangbangers any more than the White Neo Nazi bitches, or the Asian short-stacks who did some dumb shit and isolate themselves in the corners. So, it’s preferable if you simply take my advice… Just roll with me. Once you have my trust, you get theirs after, then you’ll be fine.” 

Mickie said, “I won’t have to sleep with you to get you to trust me, right?” 

Lyla suddenly, much faster than Mickie had anticipated, lunged at her and pinned her to the ground. 

She held her arms above her and Mickie tried her best to stay calm. Despite the heavy, large female atop of her with all of her weight on her. 

“Ugh, get off me.” She whispered, still struggling. 

Lyla sat back a bit and said, “I don’t do anything with anyone without their trust. Trust comes with respect, but you haven’t shown me anything worth my respect. You’ll know you have my approval. You’ll just know.”

Lyla let go of her wrists and said, “Maybe after that, if you’re a horny bitch still, I can… Help you scratch that itch. Maybe get a nice bitch-breaker to help fuck that horniness out.” 

Mickie’s core clenched at that description. “I think trust is a good starting point for… any good relationship.” 

Lyla finally moved off and back to her spot on her own bed. “If the warden wants you, it’s because she thinks you’re worth something to her. Trust me, just say “no” for anything she wants you to do.” 

What the hell? Mickie thought to herself, as she looked up at the white walls around her. So, this really is my life for the next few years. She didn’t know how to feel about that, but she looked back up at Lyla and where she was sitting. 

Lyla was lying back on her mattress and reading the same article she was before. Like nothing had happened. Like nothing happened between the two just then. 

Mickie moved and went about making her own sheets for her bed. She asked, breaking the silence, “I should’ve asked this before, but when do we get time out of this cell?” 

Lyla simply answered in a sarcastic tone, “Not nearly enough.” 

Mickie sighed and thought to herself, Well, this will be fine for now. 

…

That first night, Mickie, for whatever reasons, was able to eventually fall asleep and got some rest. That rest was disturbed the next morning with the guards banging on all the doors to wake up the inmates. 

Almost at the same time, Lyla and Mickie got up, and after putting on their slip-on sandals, were escorted down to the mess hall along with others. Lyla explained that only if they went into lockdowns were they forced to eat meals in their cells. Otherwise, they could eat in the mess hall or in their cell. It was a choice they gave the inmate. One of the very few that they had the choice of. 

Once there, she scanned the room slowly. and took all individuals in briefly. Everyone was indeed in their own sections by race. Some were at tables with others, but they were isolating away from their peers. She noted that the tables were spread out and were square tables. 

As they were on line for their meal, which was just eggs or cereal with milk, Mickie saw only a few people on line while others simply intermixed with their own races. 

Lyla nudged her shortly and said, “I said stop staring, stupid. You’ll get me in trouble for you staring at them.” 

Mickie looked back at her before taking the plate that Lyla had held out for her. She took it after a moment and said, “Thanks… And thanks.” 

Lyla gruffly stated, “Don’t thank me yet. You still gotta find a way to earn my respect.” 

Mickie looked at her again before nodding and saying, “And how do I do that?” 

Lyla shrugged as she led Mickie to a smaller table at the side of the room, then she turned to her and explained, “Like I said last night, you’ll know when you have my approval. I’ll tell you when and how you get it. I’ll think of something. After this, we get two minutes to brush our teeth and do the minimum ‘grooming’ of ourselves. Then back to the cell before we get out for another breaktime at 11. Lunch is in our cell at 1.” 

Two other women came over to their table. Mickie simply kept her head down and stared at the table. The one woman seemed to not have a care as to who she was, but the other one was a bit rough-looking. She was a bigger woman with a plump face and equally round body. Not slender like Lyla and not muscular like the other woman. 

Lyla nodded at each of them and said, “This here is the newbie cellmate, Mickie.” 

Then she pointed at the slimmer, muscular, blonde-haired one, “This here is Ally," and pointed at the dark-haired, plump one, “Isla.” 

Both seemed to be cautious with her, but also cool enough. Ally looked around and then back to Lyla, as if a question on her face, before saying, “She in, yet?” 

Lyla shrugged and suddenly spoke in French, “She just got in last night. I suspect she’ll be in, but I won’t do anything for her until she’s proven to be worthy of our… little group’s trust.” 

Mickie glanced at Lyla, wondering what she was saying about her, but looked back down at her food when Lyla met her gaze. "I didn't know you spoke French."  

"Most of us are at least 10th-grade level educated." The blonde, Ally, said dryly.

Lyla gruffly just said, “Eat, Brownie. You’re going to want it even if it ain’t that good.” 

…

Later that day, after lounging around in her cell, Mickie got a knock on her cell door from one of the other guards. She sat up at the knock on the cell door. 

The guard nodded at her and said sharply, “Warden wants to have a few minutes alone with you.” 

“Is it a requirement for everyone here?” She asked plainly. 

The guard simply shrugged and said, “No. But you’re somewhat famous here, so maybe you want to hear what she has to say. It’s nothing bad, probably. Gotta stay quiet and let her talk.” 

She sighed once upon hearing that and then got up. 

“Why is she so special? Even my cellmate told me she’s this new warden and she’s no joke.” 

The guard simply nodded and said, “She is serious. But fair. If you pay your cards right, you might be out of here within 2 years, if you do what she asks and don’t make a problem for her.” 

She simply nodded at that. That’ll work for now. At least I know I can get some protection while my lawyer gets this shit together for me. 

She followed the guard out of the cell and said, “Alright, let’s do this." 

The End…  for now