Chapter 10: A Broken Shell

Curled into a tight ball, Jaime lay silent on her side, the cramped prison bed a cold cradle beneath her. Reggie’s semen oozed from her ravaged body, a slow, viscous stain seeping into the sheets—a mark of her violation she could no longer count. Days blurred into an untracked haze with her cellmate, her “jail husband.” Once a devout Christian, a faithful wife, she’d crumbled into a vessel for this young Black sex offender’s pleasure—her constant, sole companion. Helpless and shattered, she surrendered to this bleak new reality, her spirit a hollow shell.

The steel door groaned open, its faint screech reverberating down the desolate corridor like a distant wail. Resigned, Jaime tugged the thin sheet over herself, a frail shield against her lost modesty, bracing for Captain Torres’s inevitable stride. Her war was forfeit, the battleground of her body ceded to ruin.

Torres smirked, his gaze snagging on the pink thong and bra strewn carelessly across the floor beside her prison uniform—tokens of her degradation she no longer hid. Three weeks locked with Reggie, the relentless Black stud, had broken her; she’d yielded to his insatiable hunger, her resistance eroded to dust. The bruises on her face had faded, leaving her deceptively presentable, a cruel irony. Torres savored the thought of Steve’s shock when he’d learn how his wife had spent her captivity.

Reggie lounged across from her, dressed, propped against the wall, his leer a smug banner of triumph as he drank in her form. Torres’s vile grin deepened her humiliation, his voice a taunting blade. “It appears you two are finally getting along better. Tell me, Mrs. Jordan, what do you think of your cellmate’s impressive manhood now that you’re familiar with it?”

The crude barb shrank her, powerlessness a leaden weight. She sighed, defeated, twisting to turn her back on him, shoulders sagging under shame’s crushing load. His stare bored into her, a branding iron she refused to meet, eyes clenched shut to block the dishonor choking her. The air crackled with unspoken tension, thick as a storm’s prelude, her failure to God and Steve a noose tightening around her soul.

“Do not feel embarrassed, Mrs. Jordan,” Torres pressed, his tone crisp and unrelenting. “Having observed your husband’s inadequacy, I anticipated you would come to appreciate Reggie. It is only natural. A large Black penis often becomes irresistible to white women—an addictive quality, one might say. The more exposure they receive, the more they begin to prefer it. There is no shame in this; it was inevitable that you would eventually favor it.”

She squeezed her eyes tighter, a futile dam against his precise, cutting words. Once a pillar of faith and fidelity, she’d been stripped bare by Torres and Reggie, her sanctity plundered. She loathed what she did with him, her face flaming at the taunt. Steve’s mention, his size a cruel jab, spiked guilt through her chest. Shame flooded her as she faced the truth—her body, traitorously, had grown attuned to Reggie’s girth, the heightened arousal a dark secret she never chose. Silent, she endured the captain’s jeers, a mute effigy of disgrace.

His laughter rang out, a sharp echo off the stone. “Your husband wishes to see you today, though I suggest you put your underwear back on before this.”

Her eyes snapped open, body jolting upright, sheet clutched tight as she faced him. Steve—weeks unseen. The fabric clung, slimy with Reggie’s seed and her own fluids, a grotesque shroud. “P-please, can I shower first?” she begged, urgency cracking her voice. “Reggie’s ejaculate—it’s all over me.” Desperation clawed at her, a last grasp for dignity amid the wreckage of their latest act.