Addicted (OITNB)

59- Drastic Times Call For Drastic Measures

THERE ARE ONLY so many COs here, and most of them are old enough to father me. Snow is the youngest, but he won't do this for me. Right now, I'll settle for anyone.

I spend hours walking up and down Litchfield, looking at the faces of COs who are just doing their jobs and trying to stay out of trouble. There is no way they would do this. They have families to provide for. They can't risk losing their jobs.

Giving up, I lean against the wall of a busy hallway.

"No leaning against the walls," a deep, masculine voice bellows. I quickly stand up straight and move forward, away from the wall.

I stare into the eyes of a CO. His hair is dark with a few white streaks, indicating he is at least forty. Maybe even fifty. But his locked jaw and smouldering eyes make me not care.

I realize, maybe I hadn't been looking hard enough.

"Sorry." I say, still watching him.

He glares at me before walking past, and I watch his solid back retreat down the hallway.

I lean against the wall, just as he glances over his shoulder, same look on his face.

"Did you not hear what I said?" He stomps towards me.

I don't move. "What's so bad about leaning against the wall? I'm not hurting anyone." I say.

"Because I said so, inmate."

I glance at his crotch, hoping he'll get the hint. "What else do you say?" I try, calm on the outside but panicking on the inside.

Do I really want this? Do I really want to have sex with someone who is more than twice my age?

Yes.

I WINCE AS my body is shoved into the closet, my lower back hitting the corner of a shelf. He locks the door behind him and I stand, waiting.

((EXPLICIT CONTENT AHEAD))

He begins to pull down his zipper and palm at his underwear. I feel nauseous and dizzy at the same time, but I tell myself it's just nerves.

I want to run out of the room, especially when he grabs me by a fistful of hair and forces me to turn around, bending me against the shelf.

I stare at the cleaning products in my face, reading every single word on the label multiple times to distract myself from the pain and foreign feeling between my legs.

A didn't even notice the tears slipping from my eyes.

With every thrust, my abdomen hit the edge of the shelf, causing me even more pain. He didn't care.

He isn't even moaning. Does he like it? Or maybe he hates it as much as I do.

It feels like eternity until he finishes, pulling out of me and redressing. As I move, I feel the thick substance inside of me. I feel revolting, but I'm also relieved that it's over and done with.

"Give me a week." He says, doing his belt.

"A week? I can't wait a week." I frown.

"I'm only here about twice a week. I don't have time."

"Please, at least try." He doesn't respond. "We made a deal."

"And I said give me a week." He says sternly.

I sigh in defeat. "Okay, fine. As long as you do it."