Novel & Cerita Cerita Dewasa Di Penjara Wanita

Daisy’s POV I sigh as I sit in this damn jail holding area… just waiting. And it’s not like on TV. Not even close. There’s no little bed, no bench, no private space with a toilet tucked in the corner. None of that. I’m handcuffed to a chair in what looks like a crowded, run-down waiting room, surrounded by women I don’t know, and don’t want to know. There are so many of them. Some look strung out. Some look like they’ve been on the streets for years. A few look like they came from money and just got caught up in something stupid. One woman looks like she got the hell beat out of her.

Instead, I find a wet, cold room, large but cluttered with rusty dank cages. In each cage are women of all nationalities, some fae, some lycan or were, and even a few humans among the mix. All of them looked scared shitless and worn for wear. I can only imagine the shit they had been through after what I endured upon getting to this hellhole, wherever in blazes it is. There are several women out of cages, looking better off even though they still look terrified. Most of the free women are cuddled in a corner on top of a stained mattress, but two women are hovering over me, worry on their faces instead of fear.

The police obtained statements from the witnesses and checked the surveillance footage above my head. Edwin suffered disability and disfigurement within just a few minutes, but that was just the beginning. He was then sentenced to 18 years in prison for attempted murder with aggravating circumstances. His mother was also forcibly admitted to a mental hospital, where she lived in a single room with iron bars. Not long after, Otelia forwarded me another piece of news. [Recently, dozens of streetwalkers were arrested in an underground red-light district during a series of crackdowns on pornography and illegal activities. Among them was a woman suspected to be a former artist named Verne Arabell

The place was small for one person not to talk to three other people. Those stupid cops definitely do not know that a pregnant woman needs her space, she needs to be treated right and not this way. They need to know that I hate smelling offensive stuff and odor, especially one coming from my cell mate. “Stop moving around, you’re making me dizzy,” one of them said while sitting on the ground bed. That was the only difference between us, while I was given a better and comfortable bed they were only given things that looked like mats.

While Erik was woken up with jets of cold water, which they threw at him with a hose that was also used to whip him, the executioner insulted him and said, “This only happens to those who do it. Keep hitting the policemen.” A woman accompanied Ximena in the dark and icy cell. Her demeanor was ordinary; she dressed like a young girl, but her face revealed that she was already advanced in years. It could be deduced that she was a prostitute. She even had a truck driver's speech, and with insults, she told her companion, “I stopped screaming; the more I do it, the more these vultures will ride her. And it will be worse when they transfer you to the women's prison; in that hole, the other inmate

Would they take her away from me? Would they assume she’s a witch too? As I wallowed in my misery, desperately trying to think of a way to get out of here, I noticed too late that the other prisoners had lingered closer. “There’s something strange about this one,” one of the prisoners said. She appeared to be an aged woman with a craggy voice. “She smells… human…” A moment later, she gasped. “Not just that. She’s with child.” She clapped her hands together. “I always wanted a baby.”

But she wasn’t even looking at me. It was evident that Attorney Langford had walked straight into a dead end on this case. “Huh… humm…” he stammered, attempting to form a response regarding the evidence. Right there, I dropped my gaze to the floor inside the dock. My hands were trembling now. I could practically see myself being pushed into Mandena’s most dangerous prison. I had heard plenty of horror stories about that prison—how men rped men and women rped women. It was once divided into two sections: one for men, the other for women. But I knew that even within those walls, there were no real rules.

"Why are you daydreaming, ma'am? You should be happy, right, after being visited for the first time in months?" The question from one of the younger inmates broke her train of thought. She turned to the girl who was actually very smart. The woman named Dini was once a fifth-semester student at a state university, but she had to languish in prison for accidentally killing a man who had almost raped her.

“The same arrangement wouldn’t for a moment, be considered in a male prison.” “Yes, that’s true, but there are very good reasons for that,” Ava justified. “For one, almost ninety percent of female prisoners are jailed for non-violent crimes. They are far more commonly in for drug abuse or drug-related offenses to feed their habit. They are very often the victims of childhood abuse and fall into the no-win cycle of drugs to help them cope with the devastation of their lives. Also, people now recognize the important bonding that goes on with an infant and its mother.” “You grew close to some of those women?” he wanted to know, appearing genuinely interested.

"Come on, let me explain. The prison is located in Puwak City; I’m sure you’ve heard of it. It houses notorious and deranged women, much like yourself..." Wendy’s anger simmered as she listened to Rosalie’s calm demeanor. Rosalie continued in a sedate yet taunting tone. "Women convicted of murder, assault, and other heinous crimes," Rosalie sighed, pausing briefly. "I can’t even list everything; it’s that grim. But do you know what brings me joy right now?" she asked rhetorically. Wendy maintained a stoic expression, her face a mask of resentment and fury, but Rosalie was unfazed.