The Break of a Lifetime (aka Carnacki Correctional Institute

[goodgulf]

The Break of a Lifetime (aka the Carnacki Correctional Institute for Women)

Part 1 - The First Plan

Jane Higgins mentally reviewed her situation. It was just after her graduation and she had basically had it all. She had a diploma for her degree in journalism and thanks to a little help from her parents (okay, a lot of help) she had her own little apartment. It wasn't in the best part of town, but it was a start. There was only one thing lacking - a job - but that would come soon enough.

A month later she was still waiting for 'soon' to roll around. She had applied everywhere, from traditional media to the newest forms, and all she had gotten was vague talk about using her as a stringer. She had gotten odd jobs, mostly fact checking, but nothing approaching a byline much less a real job. June was almost over, rent was going to be due, and Jane hated the fact that she would have to ask her parents for more money. She needed a story, a big story, and she needed it now.

Which was why she latched on to a vague rumour. Maybe it was true, maybe it wasn't, but she needed it to be true and she needed to be the one to turn the rumour into a real story. Not that it was a huge story, but it would be huge for her.

It was basically a "where are they now" story. Cassandra Ellen Foster had been a Disney starlet when she broke a cardinal rule - she was busted while her show was still on the air. It was the final session, all the episodes had been shot, but there were still two months worth of shows to air when Cassandra had been busted with pot. Her show was pulled and she rushed into the post teen starlet train wreck career track. She quickly appeared in Playboy, doing a tasteful spread, then months later did a raunchier shoot for Hustler. An art house semi erotic movie followed, then a year later she did a mid budget porno. After that, nothing, at least nothing to now.

There were rumours. Some people thought that she was smoking pot on a beach in Mexico, others said snorting coke in South America, some had her backpacking across Europe, or in jail somewhere under her real name. Most people didn't think of her at all, but if Jane could locate her then Jane could sell that story and Jane had heard a rumour, a solid rumour, about where Cassandra could be found. If the rumour was true former teen starlet wasn't just in jail, she was incarcerated at the Carnacki Correctional Institute for Women. It was a hybrid place, a state sponsored private faculty that was partly paid for by the county and had a contract with the city. It was local, but isolated on a private island, one served by a bridge at the end of a long county road. Any escapee would be hours away from civilisation and if they didn't stay near the only road they could be lost for days in the wooded areas - not that Jane had ever heard about escapes from there. Actually she hadn't heard much about that place.

Nor did research turn up much. It had a bare bones website with contact information. The site said it was under construction, promising more soon, but it hadn't been update in a couple of years. She couldn't find much mention of it in any archive she searched, other than a joke that the staff there "knew" what you were really of. There were a few sites that speculated about a connection between the place and the Great Carnacki, but most sources pointed out that was as likely as someone in real life being connected to Sherlock Holmes as both were fictional characters.

When she tried to arrange a visit with an inmate, Jane was curtly informed that only people on the authorised list could visit, and no, they didn't give out information on that list.

With her options running out (and the threat that someone else might discover where Cassandra was), Jane started going to the right parties. She wasn't always invited, but she had enough friends from university and from other sources that she could slip in as a friend of a friend. She had to admit that having nice looks helped, at least when it came to getting in the door, but looks alone weren't doing anything to get her where she needed to be.

With great reluctance, Jane started spreading the word that she would do "anything" to get an interview with a certain woman who was being held in the Carnacki Correctional Institute for Women. She didn't name who she wanted to interview, but she accepted that she would almost certainly have to spread her legs to get on the visitors' list. That, or wear out her tongue or do something even more kinky, but she needed that story if she wanted to score a real job.

It took longer than she hoped it would, she had to borrow from her parents to cover rent (and food, utilities, and everything else), but finally she found someone at a party who would be her white knight and had a way in. The good news was he didn't want her to spread her legs for the invite, but the bad news was she wouldn't be a visitor.

But any port in a storm, beggars can't be choosers, never look a gift horse in the mouth, and all the rest of those old saying were telling her to do it.


Two days after that party, Jane received an unexpected call. One that led her to a mysterious meeting, just like Woodward and Bernstein... Only it was at a coffee shop, not a parking garage, and the only real mystery was why her cousin wanted to meet with her. That and why was he suggesting a meet at 2 PM when he had a real job.

Her cousin, David Jamison, was older than her. Jane was barely in her early 20s while David was in his late 20s. He had a gotten a job, a real job, right out of college, but Jane wasn't sure what he did. She knew it was something to do with computers, but that could be anything. She thought he might be working for some branch of the government; there were a lot of people on that side of the family that had jobs like that. Then again, he might be working at a video game studio that took their NDA seriously.

He was already seated when she arrived, off in one corner by himself. He had a laptop out, working away. Jane grabbed a coffee and moved to join him.

He didn't look up when sat, he just asked in a quiet voice:

"Are you completely crazy? Seriously, I want to know if sanity runs in the family."

"Huh? What are you..."

"Getting your self smuggling into a jail just to do an interview." David clarified. "That's crazy."

"How did you..."

"You were at a party with your friend Trish Sweeting, and Trish is roommates with Cassie who is a friend of Amy whose BFF is Jillie who is Vikki's little sister." David told her. "Trish overheard what you were doing and it spread across the grapevine."

"Vikki? Who's she?" Jane asked, stalling for time.

"Vikki Morris? She's the girl who spends about three nights a week sleeping over at my place." David told her. "We've been together for a couple of years. You might have met her at some family thing? Not ringing a bell? Well we do move in different crowds. I don't think Vikki knew we were relatives, not when she confided the story of the head case who wanted to spend time in jail."

"But I need that interview." Jane whined, mentally cursing her tone. She knew she sounded more like a sulking teen than a college graduated. She leaned in to confide, "It's with Cassandra Ellen Foster; the one teen starlet that Disney had to drop when she was still on the air. It's sure to get me a real job."

"Who? Wait, you mean that has been? You think that doing a fluff piece on someone everyone's forgotten is going to get you a job?" David snorted.

"It won't be a fluff piece." Jane countered.

"It has to be a fluff piece." David asserted. "You're been posing as an inmate and inmates don't have access to recording equipment.

"So?"

"So you ask her 'why are you in jail' and she says, oh, she says that she was sacrificing babies to Satan so he would restart her career. You get out of jail and go running to an editor and he says 'sacrificing babies? great, let me hear it in her own voice' and you can't play it back for him because you didn't have access to any recording devices." David said.

"Well maybe I'll find an editor who believes me." Jane said, doubting her own words.

"If you do, their legal department won't let him run anything that might be defamatory." David told her. "Look, she's a has been, right? I didn't hear about any trial with celebrity lawyers, which means she must be out of cash. If she tells you a bunch of lies she can get her lawyer to sue, collect millions, and fund her appeal with that money."

"That's only if I believe she's there for killing babies." Jane countered weakly.

"It doesn't have to be something like." David smiled. "She could tell you that she was caught carrying a kilo of heroin when it was just enough grass to be possession with intent, and you'd believe it. Hell, she might be able to tell a lawyer that she's there for parking tickets."

"You don't go to jail for parking tickets." Jane scoffed.

"Maybe not for the tickets themselves." David admitted. "But eventually they send you a summon to appear in court to pay them. If you blow that off you're looking at a missed appearance. Miss a couple of appearances and you'll looking at obstruction of justice and contempt of court, and you go to jail for those things. Yeah, you have to work at it, but if you show total contempt for the court system they put your ass in jail. Even if it just started out as parking tickets."

Jane wanted to protest, but then remembered something that had happen in high school. Jane had heard about a girl who actually spent a week in juvie because she racked up dozens of tickets and missed court dates. She returned to school saying how angry the judge had been, not over the tickets but because she had wasted the court's time when she didn't show up.

"Okay, maybe she is in jail for blowing off tickets, but damn it, I needed that story." Jane sulked.

"Look, I had to get some legal papers taken care of this morning and I needed to book an entire personal day to handle things." David began. "It's early, but why don't we hit that bar down the block? Turn these coffees into Irish Coffees or Long Island ice teas or something as we toast the story that never was. And I'm buying, I have to."

"You have to?" Jane asked dubiously. "Someone is making you buy drinks?"

"Pretty much." David agreed. "My boss had me in his office last week. It seems I have an expense account, no, I don't know why, it's not like I ever meet with people outside the company. Anyway, if I don't use soon I'll lose it, and that will be money going out of his department, and my boss isn't going to let that happen."

"Drinking with your cousin is an expense?" Jane asked.

"Make a list of every group that has said you can be a stringer for them." David said with a smile. "I'll write it down as drinking with a bunch of reporters and telling them nothing. The accountants will clear that. And Jane? I'm glad you came to your senses. No cousin of mine belongs in jail, even as a fake inmate."


Part 2 - The Second Plan

Jane woke up with a headache, but she had had to get really drunk; and not just because her story was dead. As far as she was concerned, she needed to have at least one drink for every group that said she could act as a stringer for. She ended up brunching with her friend Trish Sweeting (she of the big mouth) and airing her tale of woe.

Not that Trish (who was also looking for her first real post college job) was sympathetic.

"I don't get you." Trish said. "You luck out by getting a way in without having to sleep with the guy, then you get someone buying your drinks all night and don't even have to suck him off, and all you do is complain."

"I couldn't suck him off." Jane moaned, holding her throbbing head. "He's my cousin. I've known him forever. And getting in doesn't matter anymore. He's right. I can't be the single source for a hard hitting story and no one's hiring me over a fluff piece. Maybe I should just call a tabloid and see if they'll kick me a finder's fee for telling them where she is."

"You see? You've got it all figured out and you don't even know it." Trish grinned.

"What figured out?"

"You just said it, single source." Trish grinned. "We get that guy, what's his name? Andy Gates?"

"Anton Gates." Jane muttered.

"So we get him to smuggle both of us in." Trish told her. "That way it's not single sourced, I'm there too."

"Trish, you'd do that for me?"

"Sure. I could use two weeks off from the job hunt." Trish grinned. "Besides, I went on one of those scared straight things and jail didn't look all that bad. Free clothes, free meals, you get to do nothing all day. This way I can see what jail's really like without getting a record."

"Trish, you're the best!"

"That's the smartest thing you've said all day."


The new plan made sense to them, but Anton Gates wasn't as sure.

"Okay, maybe I can do it, but how did your cousin hear about it anyway?"

"That's my fault." Trish admitted. "I told my roommates, and one of them told a friend who told her BFF whose big sister is dating him. I know, small world. And Kevin Bacon's name didn't even come up."

"Uh, yeah, the thing is, when go in undercover you don't tell the entire world first." Anton muttered.

"Oh, I fixed it." Trish beamed. "I told my roommates that Jane couldn't make the plan work, so we're going on a mini vacation instead. They'll all talk and everyone will know that we aren't going in, so we can, right?"

"Uh, yeah, but, um, it's not that easy." Anton told them. "It's more than just me faking some paperwork and sending you out on the transfer van. You've got to look the part, and that's going to cost you, and not just money."

Trish's look told him what she thought the cost was.

"I mean you'll both have to buy uniforms and get your hair done." Anton explained.

"Buy? Don't they issue them?" Jane asked.

"What's wrong with my hair?" Trish asked.

"Normally, they do issue them, but you won't be new inmates. You'll be inmates transferring in, because the county jail is overflowing again. The Carnacki doesn't normally take inmates for less than a month, but they do take overflow. And they'll expect the county jail to put you in the right uniform before you get there."

"Would it be cheaper to spend a month there?" Jane asked.

"My hair looks fine." Trish said.

"Yeah, about that, neither of you know anything about the Carnacki, do you?" Anton asked. He didn't pause to hear their answers. "You see, and the thing is, well, there was that special law passed a few years ago and, well, they use corporal punishment there."

"What?" Jane asked.

"My hair is... WTF? Sorry Jane, you're on your own." Trish said. "No one is spanking my butt."

"Let me explain." Anton said. "When a girl is sent there she has to strip off, shower, get her hair done, then she's introduced to the strap, but that only happens when a girl is sentenced there." Anton told them. "When there's a transfer, and it's for less than a month, everything is different. They don't introduce you to the strap. You don't have to worry about it unless you, I don't know, riot or something."

"Then I'll do it, but I still like my hair."

"Trish!"

"Chill! It'll be a blast." Trish told her. "Playing inmate is one thing, but this just makes things even better. Like those time I slept over where the parents were strict and I knew, really knew, that the most they'd do was yell or send me home, but might, just might have been a chance that they'd freak out on me like I was one of their kids."

"I never went on one of those." Jane said. "And I don't plan to now."

"Really?" Trish teased. "You never knew someone whose parents spanked? You never spent anytime under a roof where spankings happened?"

Jane opened her mouth, paused, then closed it. She had to look away to answer.

"Not since I was 'tween, if then." Jane muttered, wishing that Anton wasn't there so she could talk this out with Trish.

"See? There's nothing like being almost, kind of, in danger, but not really." Trish said, her eyes gleaming. "Some guy said there was nothing like being shot at and missed, and it's like that, kind of."

"Churchill." Anton said.

"Huh?"

"Winston Churchill said that bit about being shot at and missed." Anton told her.

"I don't think I know him." Trish said. "Is he local? Anyway, what's wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing, but it's not what you'd been wearing at the Carnacki." Anton told her. "That's one of the reasons there's never been a successful escape from there. The moment they get there, well, after the shower, the inmates get their hair cut. They all get the same style, so you can spot them if they're walking down the road, and they all get the same dye job."

"What? Blonde?" Trish asked.

"We don't need to know because we aren't going." Jane said.

Anton couldn't answer more than one girl at a time. Jane discovered that it was now her turn to be ignored.

"No, a custom shade of red." Anton explained. "No one else has it. You see a girl with that shade of red and hairstyle you know she just got out of Carnacki. Which is another way it will cost you; you'll want to shave your head after you get out, unless you want everyone to know you were inside."

"That's crazy." Jane said.

"Cool!" Trish gushed. "I just got a job."

"Huh?" Jane asked.

"I've got a plan." Trish said with a smile. "I should have thought it earlier. This will be so cool! I'll shave my head and say I did it in support of friend. That's so worth brownie points in job interviews. Companies like people who can commit, and what's a bigger commitment than shaving your head for a friend?"

"Um, it's more than just your head." Anton admitted. "That's another, something I was working up to. Um, well, it's like this. The Carnacki used to have a problem with lice, so they took steps. The dye has a powerful chemical that kills lice and, well, they make you shave the rest of your hair. Including your bikini zone."

"Do we have to shave?" Jane asked in horror.

She styled, and trimmed, but she had never gone in for stripper chic when it came to tattoos, piercings, or having a bare pussy. Jane told herself that she wasn't a judgmental person, but there was just something too tacky about that lifestyle.

"That's right, can't we just dye it another colour?" Trish asked. "Not that I would, well maybe I might go blonde again and see if blonde will get me a job. That way I won't have to wait for my hair to grow back."

"Sorry, but that's part of the escape proof bit." Anton told her. "I don't know what the chemical is, but if you try to dye it out it turns your hair green. You'd think that blench would work, but that kills the hair almost down the root. Makes it white, straw like, and it breaks like crazy. You'll better off shaving."

"But why did we have to shave everywhere?" Jane asked again. "It's not like anyone will see it."

Trish didn't ask anything, so Anton had to answer it.

"Remember when I mentioned the shower?" Anton asked in reply. "You won't have privacy for that. In fact you won't have a private shower until you get out. That's why you have to shave everywhere."

"Oh, chill." Trish said. "Sometimes it's fun to go bare. Sure, it itches when it grows back, but it feels nice when you rub your..."

Trish paused, smiled, glanced at Anton, and said, "Never mind. I'll tell you later."

"Ah, yeah, well, like I told Jane, I'm willing to do this in exchange a future favour." Anton said. "You never know when you'll need a favour from a reporter. And I can even get your hair done for free because favours make the world go round, but the uniforms? That's a cash transaction. Look, here's how it'll go down."

Trish and Jane listened as Anton spelled out how things would work. Focusing on the details, Jane forgot that she had pulled the plug on the plan. Which she had, drawing the line at the shave, but as the details were discussed she found herself nodding along.

Later she wondered how she could do it. How she could wash in front of others. She wasn't one of those girls who changed under a towel, but she didn't linger in the changing room. She usually showered in her bathing suit and when she changed it was a quick step out of her suit then step into her panties, usually in the same movement. With her back to anyone else in the room.

But at the time her worries were drowned out with details, and there were many of them. First, the charge. Anton would produce some bogus court paperwork (and it would all be in paper form, nothing would go in the computer) that showed that Jane (and now Trish) had gotten drunk in a bar. A couple of cops asked them to move it along and the pair had thrown drinks in their faces. That had resulted in felony charges of assaulting an on duty police officers with a weapon (the drink) and resisting arrest. The paperwork would show that the pair had pleaded guilty to misdemeanour drunken disorder, taking a month in jail to make the felony charges go away. When the woman's county jail got too crowded they were supposed to release non violent offenders, but if a judge had noted that there had been some violent factor that weren't reflected in the plea then a prisoner could be transferred to Carnacki.

"Not that it happens often." Anton told them. "I've never actually been part of one these transfers before, but I've reviewed the paper trail from other ones and this is how they happen."

The paperwork had them arriving at Carnacki on July 10, leaving on July 24, giving them two weeks to get the interview.

"Now I've arranged for you to get uniforms the Friday before, that's the seventh." Anton told them. "And I can have someone drop by Jane's apartment that Sunday to do your hair. Then on Monday, at 10 AM, I'll pick you up at Jane's apartment. Wear the uniforms, but bring another outfit in plastic bag. And I mean an entire outfit - shoes, underwear, whatever jewellery you normally wear, the whole bit."

"Why?" Jane asked. "We'll be wearing the uniforms."

"I'll put your things into a prison transfer box, and that's what you'll change into before you leave." Anton explained. "There's no way they'd ever let you leave in a uniform, and if you tried you'd be picked up as an escapee."

"But what about the uniforms we're bring?" Trish pressed.

"They'll think they are the ones they share with the county." Anton explained patiently. "Inmates don't have their own clothes. Everything runs out a central laundry. Maybe they'll notice they have an extra couple of skirts floating around, but they have thousands of pieces of laundry. What are the odds they'd ever notice?"

"You mean we buy clothes and just leave them there?" Trish asked, aghast at the thought.

"That's right." Anton nodded. "Let me write out this timetable for you, so it will all be clear."

The two girls put their heads together with him, working out all the details. Trish added a few of her own, planning to go to Jane's place that Friday.

"That's the only way it works." Trish explained. "I'll tell my roommates we're leaving on Friday night, coming back Monday afternoon, because that's how these trips usually work."


Later, when they were reviewing thing back at Jane's place, Jane was wondering if it was too late to back out. Trish had her own thoughts, and those ended up dominating the conversation.

"Do you think Anton's gay?" Trish asked. "I mean, he's trading a future favour with you, but what about me? He's doing my paperwork for free. And he didn't even try to get in my pants. Not that I really wanted him to, but I never got a chance to turn him down. But I didn't really get the fag vibe from him. Maybe it's his clothes. He wears office grey and all the homos I know have fashion sense. But maybe not all homos do, you know?"

With Trish focused on Anton's sexuality, Jane never got the chance to suggest they call things off.


Part 3 - Planning is over

Trish came over to Jane's on Friday afternoon, her luggage packed in a borrowed car. As they carried it up to Jane's apartment, Jane couldn't help but remark how much Trish had with her.

"Will your roommates think you needed all this for two weeks?" Jane asked.

"Two weeks and three days." Trish corrected. "And it's all my stuff. I didn't want to say anything, but I can't afford this month's rent. I told my roommates that I didn't know how much I needed for the trip and I'd pay them my share when we get back, but that might have been a little white lie."

"A white lie?"

"Okay, just a lie." Trish said with a grin. "But who can afford rent? I mean, they want it every month. Who has that money? I'm moving out, so screw them."

"You're not paying your share of the rent? Ever?" Jane asked.

"Well I was only there for a week, so why should I have to pay for a month?" Trish asked. "Don't worry, I'll line up a place when I get back. And when July's over I'll find a place for August. I don't know, I know this nerd who got a signing bonus for his new job. He's been drooling after me for years, so maybe I'll move him with him for August and maybe September. Teach him how to fuck and not just play with test tubes, or whatever he does."

"But they're depending on you for rent..."

"Chill, they have parents. They can get a loan or something. Fuck them; they gossiped and almost screwed things up."

"After you gossiped." Jane reminded her.

"Chill. We need to focus on our adventure." Trish said.

"You keep this up and they'll stop calling you Sweet Trish." Jane told her.

"Finally." Trish sighed. "I always hated that nickname. I mean it, every guy who ever sucked my tits or ate me out said something about how Sweet Trish Sweeting tasted so very sweet. I mean every single one. The sooner I lose that name the happier I'll be."

"Every single guy?"

"Yeah, and one time, during away game last year, when I got really drunk, a girl did too."

"What? Who? Wait, when was this?" Jane asked.

"I never got her name." Trish admitted. "What can I say, I could never hold my tequila."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, no, maybe, who knows?" Trish grinned. "Maybe we'll have weird prison experiences, like in those movies."

"Um, not with..."

"Not with each other! Ew! That would be gross! But maybe a random hookup? Maybe with a guard or something?"

"Anton said they call them COs." Jane corrected. "And we're not fucking around. We're going in, getting the interview, and keeping our noses clean. Did you forget about that law? If we fuck up we get the strap. For real."

"Whatever."

"I'm serious." Jane said. "And Anton says it's serious. This isn't some angry dad who might smack his daughter's friend, it's something judicial. I mean whoever is using the strap will get paid to do it."

"Kinky." Trish giggled. "And chill! I'm just messing with you. Don't worry, I'll be there when you talk to C.E.F., ready to backup everything you want her to say. And after, maybe I'll couch surf here for a week, right?"

"Wait, are you inviting yourself over?" Jane asked.

"Well, I mean I am going to jail to help you get a job." Trish pointed out. "You're getting a real job. I mean, what's a week on your couch compared to that?"

"Uh, well, I guess." Jane agreed. "But it would have been nice if you had asked."

"I guess I'm not that sweet after all." Trish joked. "Come on, we have to get going if we're going to sneak into that private store."

"You mean the uniform shop." Jane corrected.

"Whatever. I still have to get that car back before nine. I can borrow cars, but I'd never steal one." Trish said.


The store was in a brick building with minimal signage. They pulled to the back loading dock the way they were instructed to, walking to the third door from the right. They knocked and the door was opened by a woman in her mid to late 40s.

"Hi." Trish said with a smile. "I'm...."

"You're the people I'm supposed to meet." The woman said, holding up her hand to stop Trish. "This is legal, technically, mostly, but no names. Call me Mrs. Pink if you need something to call me. And get inside before anyone sees you."

The two girls scooted inside.

The lights were on, but no one else was there. The woman led past racks of uniforms to an open space near one end of the store.

The woman gave them a look.

"I shouldn't be doing this, but here we are."

Jane had a moment of fear. Was this the sort of favour that Anton would call in?

"Are you being blackmailed or something?" Jane asked.

Mrs. Pink laughed.

"No, but this is the last day of the sales cycle and I am that close to being the top seller for the third time this year. This place doesn't have commissions, but they do have awards. Anyone who tops sales for four cycles gets a week's paid vacation at an all inclusive place. It's off season, but it's still the best award they give. I've won it at least once a year since I started here, and this sale will put me over the top."

Jane nodded at the woman's explanation, her mood lifted at the news that Anton hadn't forced the woman into doing something she didn't want to do.

"And don't worry, we sell those uniforms all the time. Mostly around Halloween, but we sell a few each month. Now I don't know what you're planning to use it for but if it's another porno I don't want to know."

Trish giggled.

"A porno?" Trish asked.

"It's not that." Jane said. "It's, um..."

"It's something I don't need to know. Now get your clothes off and I'll pick out your uniforms."

"Get my clothes off?" Jane asked, checking for a changing room.

"Don't worry, it's just us girls."

Jane fought off a blush.

"I need your tops off, I mean I really need it, but you'd be better off stripping down to your panties so I pick out everything." Mrs. Pink told them.

Jane searched for something to say, but Trish was already undoing her blouse. With her friend stripping off Jane felt that she had no choice but to match her. Their tops went on a nearby table and Trish's bra quickly followed. Jane paused, but she finally put her bra on the table as well. Regretting that there wasn't a changing room or even a screen, Jane wished that the woman wasn't looking at her chest. It had never been her best feature, but there was nothing she could do to hide it now.

Mrs. Pink picked up Jane's bra, looking at the label.

"Um, if you need the size..."

"No, I was looking for the brand." Mrs. Pink said. "There's no padding so it must lift and separate like crazy."

Jane glanced away, uncomfortably folding her arms over her chest.

"Oh, don't be that way." Mrs. Pink laughed. "In another life I was a professional bra fitter. I saw more tits in a year than a porn addict sees in a lifetime, and I'm still straight as an arrow. There's a sales woman here with perky tits and a tight ass that gets most of the male customers, but every woman comes to me to make sure she's working all day in a comfortable bra. Now you're lucky you're here for the Carnacki uniform. The county jail, it has a total of three different bra sizes. If you ever end in there you'll serve your entire sentence in a bra that doesn't fit."

"That's terrible." Trish observed.

"What can I say? No one wants to coddle criminals. But the Carnacki place, it has 36 different styles. All of them sound like they were named by middle school students, but at least they fit. Speaking of the fit, put your wrists together at the small of your back. I know you wouldn't normally do that, but if you're going for the look then you should be ready to wear handcuff. Most girls are surprised by what that does to their chests, but you won't be. No, closer. Almost touch your elbows together. Arch your backs more. That's it. Now get those slacks down so I can get you the right skirt for your booties. Oh, and I'll need your shoe sizes."

Jane hated having show off her tits on command, and hated it even more to have to drop her slacks. She hated having to stand there in her panties, but at least she was wearing more than a thong, unlike Trish. Her bikini panties covered so much more than the small pouch of fabric covering Trish's crotch and the dental floss that ran between the girl's cheeks.

It covered more, but it didn't conceal the budge of Jane's bush or the fine hairs poking out from around that little triangle of fabric.

"I see some people still have to shave, at least they do if they're going for the full Carnacki look."

Jane blushed, knowing where the woman was looking, and needed to cover her nervousness with conversation.

"Um, so where did you work before?"

Mrs. Pink laughed bitterly.

"For a while I was working at one of the top boutiques in the state." Mrs. Pink revealed. "Then I caught the wrong girl shoplifting. That little minx was guilty as sin, but her mother dropped five figures a month at the store, so when it came down to me or that lying little bitch the store fired me. I took this job as a temp one, just until I could get another good job. That was more than 20 years ago, and it looks a lot less like a temp job every year. Now stay right there and I'll get your uniforms. No don't dress. You'll want to make they fit you before you buy them."

Jane saw the sense in that, but she turned her back slightly to so her tits were less visible.

Mrs. Pink returned carrying an armful of clothes.

"You're close enough to each other to swap clothes, except for the bras." Mrs. Pink said. "Yours is a junior miss 4 and yours is a streetwalker 7."

"What?"

"Excuse me?"

"I told you they were named by middle school students." Mrs. Pink said with a chuckle. "Smaller sizes are called junior miss, large sizes are streetwalker models, and the middle of the road one are called Plain Janes."

"What?" Jane asked, wondering how Mrs. Pink knew about the nickname brought on by her small (but round) breasts. But from the way the woman said it, it was clear that Mrs. Pink didn't know that she was talking to someone named Jane.

"Three basic designs, 12 different variants each, and everyone of them with an insulting name." Mrs. Pink informed them. "It sucks, but what can you do?"

Jane quickly slid her bra on, and was surprised by how well a "junior miss" bra fit her.

"Um, so a they took a shoplifter's word over yours?" Jane said, looking to cover her nerves.

Mrs. Pink laughed bitterly again.

"They did, for all the good it did her." Mrs. Pink told her. "The little fool tried it again, someplace where her mother didn't shop and the idiot ended up with three months."

"That much for shoplifting?" Trish asked in surprised.

"She stole from an expensive place, which made it theft over, and the judge didn't like her family." Mrs. Pink explained. "Word was her father was going run for the other party and the judge wanted to put an end to it. For all the good it did; that party found a better candidate and won the election."

"You kept track of her?" Trish asked in surprise.

"Back then, I made more in commission in one week, commission alone, not counting my base, than I take home here in a month." Mrs. Pink told them. "If I'd stayed there for three more years I'd have been halfway to retirement from that job alone. Yes, I kept track of that little bitch. Now put on the clothes, maybe putting the panties on over your own since you haven't bought them yet."

Jane was surprised that she could, that they were old fashion full bottom panties that more than covered her bikini briefs. Of course they completely concealed Trish's thong.

Which was better than the skirt. There was no way it could pass the bend test. If Jane tried to pick something up she'd flash her panties to the room. She had never worn a skirt this short in her life.

"It seems a little short." Jane mentioned.

"You mean that you'll show your panties whenever you bend at a 78 degree angle?" Mrs. Pink asked.

"Um, I'm not sure of the angle, but..." Jane began.

"I am." Mrs. Pink told her. "That's the way they're designed. Personally I think they were designed by the same middle school student that named the bras, but what do I know?"

"How do you bend in them?" Trish asked, experimenting a bit.

"You don't." Mrs. Pink told them. "You bend your knees and squat, like this."

Mrs. Pink showed them both how pick up something from the floor without flashing their panties, a lesson they had learned as young girls but hadn't really put into practice.

The uniforms were simple ones. There was a short flared grey skirt, knee high socks, flat shoes, a white blouse, and even a tie. Jane noticed how short the blouse's shirttails were compared to a regular blouse. Most blouses would go down to her thighs, but this blouse only covered the top half of her backside.

Like 'Mrs. Pink' said, the uniform seemed to have been designed by a boy in middle school. An immature middle school student at that. Jane couldn't picture herself wearing it in public, except maybe at a costume party. Even then she might feel embarrassed if a guy started checking out her bottom. Or her legs. Her breasts were back to be being her worse feature, but Jane knew that most guys would checkout any girl with tits. She had learnt that in middle school, and while she hadn't grown as much as many of the other girls, she still had guys trying to stare down her top at times. Sure, it helped when she used one of those special bras, but those were just to make her feel better about her body.

The clothes weren't something that she would want to wear, but wearing them was better than changing out of them. Out of habit she turned her back to the others as she changed, but it still felt strange to take down panties that were covering her normal panties. She half snagged her bikini briefs as she did, accidentally flashing most of one cheek for half a second. Jane quickly corrected herself, but could only hope the others hadn't noticed.

Mrs. Pink smiled as she rang in their clothes, muttering something about putting little miss tits and ass in her place.

"One more cycle like this and I'm getting another trip." Mrs. Pink smiled. "Someone has got to learn that women's uniforms are more expensive than men's. Because until she does, she's never going on that trip."

Jane had to agree about the cost of women's clothes. It felt terrible, spending all that money on clothes that she was going to wear once then abandon in the Carnacki Correctional Institute for Women.


Part 4 - Almost Ready

Once the car was returned and they back in Jane's apartment, it became a bit like a sleepover. Only Jane had never had a sleepover in such a small space, which seemed even smaller with all Trish's luggage in it. Jane found herself changing in her tiny bathroom while Trish seemed to have no problem stripping off and changing in front of Jane.

The sleepover vibe continued until Sunday. Jane now knew that it was too late to call things off but she wanted to, if for no other reason than she couldn't deal with having Trish as a houseguest for the next three weeks. Her apartment just wasn't large enough for the two of them to stay there for any real length of time.

Sunday afternoon arrived, and with it a girl named Brook. She brought all of her supplies with her, clippers, scissors, and the rest, and set up on Jane's small table. Trish had to go out to buy a newspaper, and they spread it around to catch the hair as she cut it.

"Don't worry." Brook said as she worked. "I'm a professional. I've done this countless times. I used to work at county, and I gave every girl we sent to the CCIW this same cut."

"CCIW?" Jane asked, wincing as she saw locks of Trish's hair hitting the floor.

Brook smirked at that.

"It's called the Carnacki Correctional Institute for Women, or CCIW for short." Brook explained with a knowing smile. "I don't know if you've heard about it, but this is the do they all wear there."

Trish didn't look all that bad when Brook was done, but she looked a bit younger. Then it was Jane's turn to have her hair shaped.

Of course that was only step one. Brook told them what to do, and of course Trish volunteered to go first.

Trish actually giggled as she laid a towel on Jane's couch, yanked up her skirt, and exposed another thong. Jane looked away as Brook tugged down Trish's thong. Brook lathered shaving cream on Trish and cut it away with a straight razor. Trish kept giggling as Brook worked.

Then it was Jane's turn. She took her position on the couch, with her skirt up, and closed her eyes as Brook worked. She knew that Brook could see her as closely as any lover Jane had had ever had, but somehow the act of closing her eyes gave her a distance from the act. The slippery feel of the cream, the cold scrap of the knife, it was different from anything she had felt down there before.

And when it was over. The hair that had been her constant companion since she stopped being a little girl was gone. The razor left her raw and irritated. Brook advised her to apply some aloe cream. Smirking, she added "But only externally", which left Trish giggling and Jane blushing.


The next morning Jane had to apply more aloe, which she did alone in the bathroom. Then they both changed into their uniforms. Crowding around Jane's mirror, they were amazed by how alike they looked. Between the uniform and hairstyle they blended together. Jane could only wonder how much more they would resemble each other once their hair was dyed red.

Anton called as he was pulling up in front of the apartment building. Jane and Trish rushed down to meet him. Trish was laughing, but Jane was conscious of the fact that they were running around in prison uniforms. Her neighbours might not recognise the clothing, but any cop who saw them might pick them up and take them to the place for real.

They ended up spending hours in a motel room as Anton made calls. Mid afternoon he drove them to a parking lot behind the court building. Anton explained that he would have to cuff them for the next part.

When the cold metal cuffs snapped around her wrists, binding them where 'Mrs. Pink' had said they would be bound, Jane knew that she was past the point of no return. She told herself that it would be worth it, that the interview with Cassandra Ellen Foster would get her a real, adult job. That she was a mere two weeks away from having it made.

A van pulled up, and Anton directed them to it. He had a few words with the driver, and directed the girls towards them. As she took an unsteady step onto the bus, Jane was shocked when Anton landed a swat on her backside to hurry her along. When he swatted Trish as well, letting his hand linger for a long moment, Trish decided that Anton was probably not gay after all.


Part 5 - Entering the Carnacki Correctional Institute for Women

The van drove down a lonely country road, over a bridge, and eventually into a walled compound. Their hands remained cuffed as they were led off the van into a large building. Still cuffed, they were led through a side door, passed a reception area, and into a small room.

Left alone, Trish leaned over to Jane and asked when the cuffs were coming off, but Jane didn't know. Finally, a man in his mid fifties, wearing a grey suit, entered carrying a clipboard.

"Well hello, I guess this is where they put you. Introductions first: I am Mr. Kevin Grandy, deputy head of the Carnacki Correctional Institute for Women, and you are a pair of minor criminals sent here because the county faculty is once again above capacity. No, your names aren't important to me, but I'm sure that they are on your paperwork. Are you finding the cuffs uncomfortable? Well, don't worry, they will off soon."

"Now you two are lucky enough to be missing the usual entrance to our faculty." Mr. Grandy continued. "Otherwise you would be facing the usual welcoming strapping."

Mr. Grandy glanced down at the paperwork on the clipboard.

"Now this is the 10th, do either of you know your release date? I know it's somewhere here."

"We're both due to be to released on the 24th." Jane offered.

"We kind of got drunk together and..."

"Ah, there it is." Mr. Grandy noted. "Well, that has to change. We only do releases on Fridays. The 24th is a Monday so that pushes it back to Friday the 28th."

"But, but you can't do that." Trish protested.

"The judge said we could go on the Monday." Jane said.

Mr. Grandy merely smiled.

"There is a policy to handle situations like this one." Mr. Grandy said. "Those days will be taken off your next sentence."

"But... but what if we don't break the law again?" Trish asked.

"Well then you will be proof that the system works." Mr. Grandy said as he made a notation on their forms. "On the bright side, you can be happy that you didn't arrive yesterday. That would have put you in the previous week cycle. That would have seen you officially here from July 3rd to July 28th, and you would be deemed to be here for a month, qualifying you for our standard introduction complete with the welcoming strapping."

"You're... You're joking." Jane said nervously.

"Actually if you had arrived before our scheduled intake today... Well, let's just say you are glad there wasn't a morning bus out here." Mr. Grandy said.

"I don't think he's joking." Trish said.

"Now from here, you will go for fingerprinting."

"But our paperwork is in order..." Jane began.

"Oh, I'm sure it is." Mr. Grandy said with a slightly confused smile. "The thing is, yes, the think is... Ah, yes, the thing is, we have to be able to prove that the you who arrived is the you who were sent."

"Huh?" Trish asked.

"Three years ago, at least I believe it's three years ago, a rather wealthy woman paid her much poorer cousin to switch places with her." Mr. Grandy revealed. "We had the right paperwork, the right headcount, but the wrong prisoner. We didn't know until the wealthy woman was arrested again. They ran her prints and the system showed that she was already here. Now that was embarrassing. There was even an enquiry, one that made recommendations, and the board decided to adopt them all. That's why we fingerprint you."

"Are our fingerprints entered into the system?" Jane asked, fearful of being labelled a criminal for life.

"They already are there. This will just give us a paper copy here." Mr. Grandy told them. "Now after that, well, before that actually, we need to get those uniforms off you. We've fought long and hard to achieve lice free status and we don't want to risk eggs riding in on those clothes. Yes, you remove your clothes, are fingerprinted, go into the shower, get your hair dyed, and body hair shaved if they forgot to do it at county. Then, because you are skipping the strapping, you get new uniforms and shown to your bunks. We have dorms, quads, and doubles, with the dorms usually for long term and the quads for very short terms. So a double? Yes, a double. Now you've arrive too late for supper, so it seems that while you've skipped your spankings you will go to bed without supper."

"Can't the kitchen make something?" Trish asked.

"Uh, no. No, that is against policy. Which reminds me, you will be weighed before the shower so we can chart out a meals schedule to go with your exercise schedule."

"Exercise schedule?" Jane asked.

"Yes, we do try to ensure our inmates remain in good physical shape." Mr. Grandy informed them. "Yes, we are very different from county lockup. Yes, you will be assigned classes. We never know the educational background of our inmates, so we cover many of the basics. Hygiene, basic math skills, and so on. We will generate a schedule based on what we know about you.... Ah, or maybe we will just see what classes have openings that we can stick you in. That part of the system isn't always worked out in advance or afterwards."

"Um, I'm not sure what that last part means." Jane admitted.

"Yes, well I believe Head Correctional Officer Ferguson will be here soon and she will, ah, yes, of course." Mr. Grandy said.

"Is he making sense?" Trish asked Jane. "Because I don't think he's making sense."

The door opened, admitting a large, muscular woman in a guard's uniform.

"Ah, there's Ferguson now." Mr. Grandy said.

"Is that their paperwork? We're ready for them now." Ferguson said in a respectful tone of voice.

"Yes, that is their paperwork." Mr. Grandy said, handing the clipboard over. "I should probably go."

"Yes sir." Ferguson said respectfully.

After he left, Ferguson turned to the girls.

"Yeah, he had a heart attack a couple of years ago." Ferguson said with a deadpan delivery. "Then his heart meds caused some blood thinning which cause something called an episode. That's what the doctors call something when they can't decide if someone had a stroke or not. Sometimes his new meds get out of whack and he gets confused. He told you the basics?"

Jane began to answer.

"Well, he said..."

"I don't care what he said." Ferguson said bluntly. "If he got it wrong then we'll still do it right. Now get your backsides in gear and get moving. NOW!"

Both girls were shocked by her tone. In moments Ferguson had them moving, with a hand on each of the girls as she moved them along.

They arrived in an area where three COs (all women) waited by a desk.

"This is how it works." Ferguson told them. "We will remove your cuffs. You will remove those lice ridden uniforms county gave you. If you do not move fast enough, we will move you. You will then be fingerprinted, and your prints will be added to your paperwork. See that door there? You will then move through that door to the showers. If you do not shower you will be hosed down and scrubbed down by our staff. You will then go to the hair station for your dye job. After that you will be issued uniforms and deposited in your new quarters. If you have any questions, now is the time to shut the fuck up and do what we tell you to do."

Jane thought the plan was basically the same as Mr. Grandy had told them, minus the confusion and politeness.

A pair of COs removed the handcuffs, then all four COs were yelling like drill sergeants.

"Move!"

"Blouse off"

"Strip down!"

"Clothes off NOW!"

"Don't rip those buttons!"

Jane moved frantically, convinced that the COs were about to begin beating her. No one had ever yelled at her like that, never in her life. She was so flustered by the yelling that she barely noticed the clothes flying until she was down to her bra and panties. She tried to slow down, taking off her shoes and socks first, but they were yelling at her too hard for her to stop.

Jane shivered as she undid her bra. She trembled as she lowered and stepped out of her panties. She had done it. She had stripped under the eyes of four perfect strangers. Now she was standing naked, wilting under the unkind eyes of the COs.

One of the COs produced a printing kit and began collecting fingerprints.

"We aren't stripping you first to be cruel." Ferguson said as the prints were taken. "We do other things to be cruel. No, we strip you first because too many inmates rubbed the ink on their clothes. This way is neater for us. Now as we print you, I want you to think hard on whether we need to the use the hose or if you plan to shower when we tell you to."

Jane wished she could think about that, but all she could think about was being completely naked in front of four fully dressed strangers. This was worse than any changing room. In a changing everyone was changing, but only Jane and Trish were stripping off here. Worse, the room wasn't warm. Jane could feel her nipples perking a bit. A quick glance at Trish confirmed that Jane's weren't the only tits firming up, but other than that, Trish seemed to be standing more comfortably than Jane.

Once all twenty fingers were printed, the shower door was opened and the inmates ordered through.

It was a large, community shower, with several shower heads pouring lukewarm water. Soap was tossed to them, along with orders to start scrubbing.

Since she kept her suit on when she showered at the pool, Jane hadn't showered naked with another girl since high school gym class, and then it had been a bunch of them at once. It was easily to be lost in anonymity in crowd, but now there were just two girls showering under the eyes of the CO.

"Use that soap!" Ferguson roared. "Soap up your chests! I want to see your skin sparkle! You! Open your legs! I want that crack of yours clean! Front and back! Move! Now! Do we need to use the hose? Do we?"

Jane wanted to cry, but didn't let herself. She didn't feel that she had a choice. She had to obey that barking voice, even when it meant opening her legs in front of all those people. She worked the soap as ordered, wishing that she had never heard of the name Cassandra Ellen Foster. Then she focused on getting her new job, forcing herself to soldier on.

The water shut off, the hot going first, leaving the girls shivering. The COs stalked in and dragged them to the next room.

Jane had been a bit perky before, but now she was sporting a pair of high beams as she shivered. She was stood on a doctor's scale, her height and weight recorded, and she moved on to the next station.

Wet, naked, and shivering, Jane found herself gagging on the dye fumes. She had coloured her hair before, used highlights and streaks, and even bleached a few times, but nothing had ever stung like this dye. It made her scalp itch and burn, burn to the point that she was glad she had removed her body hair. The idea that she might have that dye inside her was something that bit at her core.

Later came towels, drying themselves in front of witnesses, a bit of styling to repair their hairdo, and finally a replacement uniform. Jane practically dove into it, tugging panties on first. She paused with the bra only long enough to read its size and was surprised that it was junior miss 4.

With her main assets covered, she went with her socks and shoes next. Jane wanted to be fully covered, but somehow it felt better to dress in her underwear than to flash the room putting the socks on in that short skirt.

Trish and Jane ended up in a small room. There was a cot against the right and left walls, a small locker at the foot of each bed, and maybe three feet between the cots. Other than the bare walls and locked door it could have been a small dorm room.

There was a mirror, and a lock, on the door.

"We can't even pace." Trish noted. "Maybe this was a mistake."

"I've been thinking that since the cuffs went on." Jane admitted. "But if I can interview that woman I can my life started for real. I need to focus on that."

"Come on, let's see how we look." Trish said, moving to the mirror.

Two near identical girls stared out of the mirror. One had bigger boobs and they had different faces, but seeing them there Jane realised how often she used clothes and hairstyles help recognise people. Looking at the reflections, Jane got her first real hint of how someone's identity could be stripped away.

"Um, Trish?" Jane said. "I just had a terrible thought. How are we going to recognise Cassandra."

"Chill. We've seen her on TV countless times. We almost grew up watching her. I had her poster on my wall because she shares my birthday." Trish told her.

"Um, we never saw her with this hair colour and wearing this uniform." Jane pointed out. "We look almost like twins, but your boobs are bigger. What if everyone in this place looks just like us?"

Trish thought about it.

"Okay, that's a hole in your plan." Trish agreed.

"My plan? What? Do you have a different plan?" Jane asked.

"My plan was to skip out on rent and not spend a dime on food for two weeks." Trish revealed. "Only now it's four extra days I don't have to buy food or worry about a place to stay, so maybe my plan works out even better. Hey, now I'm only staying on your couch for a few days, so that works for you too. See? We both have good plans."

"How am I going to find her?" Jane asked, the difficulty of her task becoming clear. "I can't wander around looking for her. They're planning our every waking moment. My only chance is to bump into her in one of the classes. Even then I might not be able reco - no! We both have to bump into her at the same time! That's the only way we can both be sources."

"Sounds like my plan is better than yours." Trish grinned.

It struck home that she might have endured everything - the short skirt, the forced stripping, the shower, and the future shaving of her head and it might be all for nothing.

"What am I going to do?" Jane whined.

"You're going to open a locker." Trish decided. "Which bed do you want?"

"Well..."

"I'll take the left." Trish announced, mainly because it was closest to her.

The locker was mostly empty. It had a small selection of hygiene supplies and their nightclothes: nightgowns that didn't go down as far as their skirts did and a thong panty to wear under it.

"I don't want to wear that tonight." Jane declared. "I'd rather wear nothing under the nightgown than that. I just hate the way a thong digs in."

An hour later, a CO came by and explained the locker system and the basic schedule. The lights would flash as a warning for lights out five minutes before the lights were extinguished for the night. When they changed for bed their old uniform went into the locket - all of it, including the bra and panty set - and when they changed they were to wear the entire sleep set.

The way the CO talked, Jane didn't think the thong was optional.

After they woke at lights on they would go to breakfast in the dinning rooms in their sleepwear, returning to their room to dress for classes in a fresh uniform. At least that was what the bulk of the inmates did - some were tasked with replacing the uniforms in the lockers while the other girls ate breakfast.


Part 6 - Adjusting at Carnacki Correctional Institute for Women

Jane and Trish talked until the lights out warning, then changed. Jane changed with her back to Trish, but that wasn't easy to do in shut close quarters.

Jane had worn countless different sleep sets before. She had slept in everything from cotton pyjamas to only her own skin, but she couldn't remember wearing a nightgown with only the panty half of the bra and panty set and she knew for a fact that she hadn't worn a thong to bed since a disastrous experiment left her with elastic marks dug into her thighs.

The nightgown felt sheer where it rubbed against her breasts, and the way the thong hugged her freshly shaved pussy while the back stripe pressed against both sides of her crack was distracting.

Very distracting.

And she wasn't the only distracted person in the room. Sometime after lights out, Trish called from her bed.

"Jane? Um, my hands are going under the sheets and um, you might hear me making some noise, but I'm not going all lezzie on you. I just have an itch to scratch, and I want to scratch it."

"Um, that thong does feel odd." Jane agreed. "How about I'll go deaf if you'll go deaf too?"

"Deal."

It had been years since she tried to do this without a sex toy. Nothing was buzzing and only her fingers were poking, but with some nipple play and some effort, she got there before drifting off to sleep.


The lights flashed on and off three times, ending in the on position as a buzzer sounded, waking the girls. When they were escorted to a dinning hall, Jane was hoping that no one noticed how her thong was sticking to her now.

No one seemed to notice her, but both Jane and Trish couldn't help notice that when some of the other girls' nightgowns rode up they sometimes exposed cheeks that were either red or bruised. It was one thing to hear that there was CP here, but it was another thing to see the proof.

Not that they could ask for details. They tried not to talk to the inmates, hoping not to exchange any personal information with them. They didn't want any real criminals to look them up after this stunt was over. The plan was to keep things on a first name basis, if that, and avoid all ties. There was only one person here that they wanted to talk to and they still had no idea how they were going to find the former teen starlet.

After changing into their uniforms, they each received their schedules, which charted most of their waking hours and were centred around "classes". To their surprise, they were both in all the same classes at the same time. But those classes... both girls had just left university, but neither could remember any classes like these ones.


Some of the courses were things like grade school level math and handwriting, but the one that surprised Jane the most was the health / hygiene class.

Every other class was taught by something they had to call Sir or Ma'am, but the health class was taught by someone addressed as Nurse. It basically covered material from middle school health classes, but instead of watching films an inmate was summoned to the front of the class to act as a living model for the topic at hand.

Jane hadn't seen another girl inserting a tampon since some brave, older girls had demonstrated how to use one at a sleepover, and that had been years ago. Seeing a woman in her mid 20s being summoned to the front of the class, stripped of her skirt and panties, and spending most of the next hour showing different techniques of inserting a tampon into her shaved pussy, that was mind blowing. Other classes in that first week covered douching, self administered enemas, rectal thermometers, and self breast exams, all modelled by inmates being guided by 'Nurse'. Each time a model was selected, Jane felt butterflies swarming her stomach, but neither her nor Trish were picked.

They also had several fitness classes a day, each run by a different person claiming the title of coach. To their amazement, they were basically getting individual exercise plans designed for them. There were some group activities, such as running laps, but as Trish remarked, they wouldn't get this level of personal training at any gym they could afford. The classes started with the girls changing into tunics, but they weren't issued fresh panties or bras. Each time they were left sweaty, and herded into showers but forced to change back into their sweat stained underwear under their uniforms. The feel of her damp skin hitting sweaty panties was a new one for Jane, who had always changed into fresh underwear after a post exercise session shower. Jane usually greeted the day with a shower; having to wait until after an exercise class just drove home how she didn't have any control over her schedule, or her life.

The worst activity that was meant to fill their time was their assigned job. Both girls had to wash dishes by hand, but only after they were shown the commercial dishwashers they were replacing. It was made clear to them that their work activity was designed to fill their time with needless activity.

While those activities filled their days, they had long nights with nothing to. Neither girl had followed a 10 hour sleep since their parents set their bedtime, but the Carnacki Correctional Institute for Women had lights out at 9 PM and lights on at 7 AM. Those nights became sweaty times for both girls, but each took care of their own needs while trying to ignore what her friend was doing.


At times both girls tried to make light of their situation, but the odd nature of the place was omnipresent. Even if you discounted hearing the occasional spanking happening in the building, there were other clues.

The bathrooms lacked stalls, but were well stocked with enema and douching bags. On their first day there they saw three inmates tackling a fourth girl and forcing her to take an enema, one that would make her late for her next class.

Being late for class was one of the things that could prompt CP, but so could other things.

Walking around in the short skirt, it would have been worse if there weren't so many girls wearing the same thing. Even still, Jane found herself blushing when COs checked out her legs and backside.

The grind was constant. Jane never had a chance to make a choice. Her schedule was worked out for her, her meals put on plates for her, her wardrobe predetermined. She could feel her sense of individuality being continually attacked. That she was being reduced to being one more face with identical clothes and hair, just one more inmate in the system. Worse, she was being treated as if she was a young girl. They treated her like she was still a teenager and needed to be told exactly what to do.

As for sex, neither girl thought they were alone in their self pleasure and they sometimes saw inmates discreetly touching in friendly ways. But they didn't try to make friends with any of the inmates so they couldn't really ask them anything.

On their third day there, when Wednesday morning hit, both girls could feel a pale passing over the institute. A few questions asked to their fellow inmates quickly revealed why. While the COs or instructors occasionally took a strap to an inmate's backside, Wednesday night was called "Punishment Night" and that was when mass punishments happened. Everyone they asked seemed to have a horror story to tell about Punishment Night, but no one was willing to give details to a girl who hadn't been there.

Their breakfast on Thursday morning brought many glimpses of backsides that were still marked from the night before, driving home the fact that many girls had been punished the night before.


It was the weekend before the girls had more than a waking minute to call their own. The inmate population seemed to swell and classes were suspended for those days, not for the comfort of the inmates but as a cost saving measure. The Carnacki Correctional Institute for Women just couldn't afford to pay instructors to give classes seven days a week, so the Saturday schedule amounted to set meal times, 2 hours of exercise in the morning, another 2 in the afternoon, an hour doing busy work, and the rest of the day was called 'free time'. That and they would get fresh sheets that night, but they weren't here to enjoy fresh sheets.

"This is our big chance to find her." Jane said over breakfast.

"We should split up." Trish told her. "No offence, but we've been together all week, and I need a break from you."

Jane nodded, happy that Trish had beaten her to the punch. They hadn't been cuffed together, but their schedules had tied them together at the hip. The only time they hadn't been together was when they took separate bathroom breaks.

As she asked around, Jane quickly confirmed that it wasn't her imagination, that there really were more inmates on the weekend. Jane didn't understand legalities of it, but there were a number of inmates who were only serving their sentences on the weekends.

And that wasn't the only thing that happened on the weekends. As she poked her noise around, Jane stumbled into inmates who were either pairing off or getting together in groups of more than two. She kept blushing and apologising, but no one seemed mad when she stumbled over them. Just the opposite at times; Jane found herself blushing even harder when she was invited to join in the fun.

Each time it happened she tried not to be judgmental, but she couldn't understand why there were so many lezzies sentenced here. Then again, maybe if she had been here for months she might be hungry enough for contact that she didn't care whose fingers were exploring her, as long as they weren't her own going through the same tired motions.


Sunday was much like Saturday. The biggest difference was that there was an optional hour set aside for chapel. That, and Trish smuggled a pair of wooden spoons back to their cell. To say their presence freaked Jane out was putting it mildly.

"Trish!" Jane hissed in alarm. "What the fuck? Seriously, shivs? We don't need shivs! God if they catch us with shivs they'll arrest us and we'll get sentenced to real time. And when they arrest they'll find we broke in and we'll be real criminals and I can't go to jail! Not for real! Not..."

"Chill." Trish urged. "And keep your voice down! And tell me what a shiv is."

"Didn't you do any research? A shiv is a home made knife you make in prison and they are so illegal that..."

"But I didn't take them to make knives." Trish told her.

"Then why..."

"Now when the lights go off we'll have something more than just our fingers." Trish explained. "It's just Sweet Trish coming to the rescue to give your hand a break. Or don't you want yours?"

"Um, well, um, I guess thanks." Jane said with a blush.

That night, after lights out, Jane found herself making use of the spoon. Rubbing it a certain even helped with the itchy feeling where stubble was sprouting. While the spoon was welcome, the sounds drifting over from Trish's bed took her by surprise. In addition to the normal quiet moans the occasional smacking sound drifted over. Jane had only thought of using the spoon to extend her reach, but she could hear Trish landing taps and maybe even smacks as she played.

Then Trish broke the "we can't hear each other" rule.

"Have you tried tapping your thighs? Just beside your love muffin?" Trish asked.

"Is that what you're doing?" Jane asked. "And am I suppose to hear you?"

"Um, yes, no, um, okay, we talk and say what we're doing, but we stay in our own beds, deal?"

"Deal."

"I'm naked, on my back curled up with my feet by my head." Trish revealed. "I'm holding the spoon in one hand and my free hand is running between my cunt and my tits. I'm tapping the spoon against my thighs and sometimes my ass."

"Why your ass?" Jane asked as she removed her own nightgown.

"Remember when I said being here was like being a strict family's house where you knew you wouldn't get it but thought that just maybe?" Trish said, beginning to breathe hard. "Um, see this one time I was wrong and there was a wooden spoon involved and the spankings we've heard, ah, and yesterday, I kind of walked in on a couple of girls playing a spanking game and that all got me thinking about how that wooden spoon felt. And right now a couple light smacks on my ass is working for me."

Jane went to reply, but a loud smack stole the words from her mouth.

"Ouch, too hard." Trish quipped. "Or was it just right? I'll decide later, but um, yeah good. The spoon's head fills more than my fingers. Okay, I'm shutting up now."

Jane was in the same position, but she rubbing it against her thighs rather than smacking. She tried a couple of taps, but wooden spoons didn't have the same associations for Jane as they did for Trish.


Part 7 - The Second Week

As if the spoons were foreshadowing, that Monday's health class covered masturbation. Jane couldn't decide if it was pornographic the way an inmate was positioned at the front of the class and used as a model, but part of her wished that her school's health classes had covered thing in this level of detail. It would have made high school's explorations a bit less fearful and so much more fun. As it was Jane learned a few things that she hadn't come across in pornos.

The woman running the class, which they had to address as Nurse, made it as instructional as possible.

"Many women like to do more than just rub their breasts, they pinch their boobs and / or tweak their nipples." Nurse explained. "And pinches and tweaks can happen lower too. If feels good, or even bad good, then do it. Just remember that you're not made of glass down there. You can stretch your pussy, or your ass, pinch yourself, and otherwise explore your limits. And if it hurts, sometimes a little pain can be good, or even great."

Jane found herself wondering about that last bit, but Trish nodded. Then the Nurse said something that really surprised her.

"Normally we just have a model acting things out, but today, and only today, if anyone wants to join in you can." Nurse said. "Just keep your hands to yourself and your panties on."

To Jane's amazement, a couple of inmates rose, lifted up their skirts, and sat with their panties against their chairs and their hands working between their legs. After those first few, more started joining in, until about half the class had their fingers working."

"That's it." Nurse urged them. "Show me what dirty girls you are. Give yourself moist, cum smelling panties that you'll have to wear all day. Decide if you're leaving this room with sticky fingers or if you're going to suck your love juices off them. Work those clits. Give yourself the pleasure that all you little jailbirds love. Sneak a finger in that backdoor, maybe two. And for the rest of you, feel free to do 'homework' tonight."

Jane found herself thinking that this would have been a bit too much for regular school, but she now thought that it could make a great lecture at the university she had graduated from. And Jane now wondered if tonight's homework would involve a few smacks landing, just the way Trish did.


The instructor hadn't lied. Many inmates had to put up with musty panties for the rest of the day, but that class had put smiles on their faces.

That night, Jane put the wooden spoon to new uses. None of the swats were painful, she didn't let herself swing it hard enough to cause real pain, but the taps on her thighs and bottom added something to the experience.


The next health class brought another surprise: it returned to the subject of masturbation, but with a few differences. This time the model was stripped nude and given an enema, one that swelled her belly, and then a plug went up her to keep it all in.

"None of you have access to plugs, at least while you're here, but you'd be doing it in a bathroom and not have to hold it." Nurse explained. "That water, pressing against your insides from the back as you push from the front with your fingers, it adds something. For some people. Your experience may vary. As for this inmate, she's either going to cum fast or I'm going to make her try different positions."

The woman, who looked to be on the wrong side of 30, didn't finish fast enough, and found herself being moved into various positions. Legs apart, rubbing against the corner of a desk; on her back; on all fours; and in some positions that Jane hadn't thought to use while masturbating.

That was when Jane learned that the new position she was using at night was called the diaper position. The instructor pointed out how it put a girl's bottom in a position where she could smack herself, or maybe try to fist her own ass.


That night, just before lights out, Trish said something that caught Jane off guard.

"I've been thinking." Trish said. "This place has a structured diet plan, custom trainers, and now sex tips. If it wasn't for the whole jail thing I'd think this was a high priced resort. Seriously, if it only had a few changes I'd pay money to stay here. But they'd need more sex toys in the rooms and maybe guys on demand before I'd do that."

"But there's that whole jail thing." Jane reminded her. "And if we screw up we get spanked like we were naughty little girls."

"Naughty little girls who have strict families." Trish corrected. "I never had that. My folks always let me get away murder."

"Mine too, kind of." Jane agreed.

"I might be a bit loud tonight." Trish warned. "I'm going to see if I can give myself a real swat or two. Not just pats, real swats, like that nurse woman talked about."

"Um, if it works for you." Jane muttered.

"It might." Trish told her.

After lights out, Jane did hear a few smacks, then came words of pain.

"Ah! Fuck fuck! That hurts bad!" Trish exclaimed.

"What happened?"

"I tried to really smack my ass and the spoon slipped and I missed my ass and the spoon landed on my love muffin and it really hurts." Trish said, speaking through clenched teeth.


After that, health class became more boring. Wednesday's focused on the proper way to wipe.

Wednesday also brought a return of Punishment Night. This time Jane noted a few COs talking to inmates, and the inmates seemed to go pale.

The next day brought a return of marked bottoms peeking out from nightgowns.

"See?" Jane whispered to Trish over breakfast. "There goes your idea of a tourist spot. What could all of those women have done to get on report?"

"Well I think I've lost two pounds since we've been here, and look at my legs." Trish countered.

"And look at your tan." Jane shot back. "We've hardly see the sun since we got here."

Trish had to pause to consider that one.

"Our tans are holding out okay." Trish finally decided. "But give us a month or two and we'd be as pale as those girls. Hey, why do those girls have good tans? They can't all be new like us."

They had to ask a few questions, but quickly learnt that most long term inmates had different exercise programs. Ones that took them outside and into the sun, which sounded good, but it also took them out in the rain and all the other weather and their exercise suits didn't give them much protection.


Jane could feel herself being numbed down a bit as the grind got to her. More than once she started talking to Trish, only to discover that she was talking to a different inmate, one that looked that Trish but wasn't Trish.

She was also more than just hearing spankings. Twice on that last part of that week Jane saw a bottom collecting two or three licks from a CO's strap, and once when an inmate bent Jane the woman had a bare red bottom under her skirt.

When Saturday came, things changed. Trish talked to a girl who knew a girl who knew the former teen starlet. Jane's life brightened with the news that the rumour was true. It took most of Saturday for Jane to follow that path, but she able to make arrangements to meet Cassandra Ellen Foster in an empty classroom.

The pair talked about it after lights out, with Trish thinking it would be so good to finally meet a pseudo celebrity who shared her birthday.


Part 8 - At last, the interview

Sunday afternoon, the two snuck into the classroom, went to the back, and crouched down behind the desks. About five minutes another inmate entered the room. It took Jane a long moment to flag the inmate as the one time Disney star. Cassandra had the same look as the other inmates, her once raven tresses now that artificial shade of red.

Standing, Jane put on her best "I'm here to interview" smile.

"Hello, I'm Jane Higgins and I'd like to interview you. Do you mind if my friend stays while we talk?"

Cassandra gave a bitter laugh, closed the door, and made her way to the back of the classroom.

"There was a day you'd have to fight your way past a dozen reporters to interview the great Cassandra Ellen Foster." Cassandra said bitterly. "And another time I'd give an interview to anyone who might help me get in front of the camera. Now, now you'll have to pay if you want an interview."

"Um, technically I'm a stringer so..."

"Not cash, I can't use cash here." Cassandra said in her bitter tone. "Not even those millions the fucking mouse owes me. Did you hear what they did? Two months worth of first run payments, gone. Millions I never saw. And it wasn't just me not getting paid. My agent tried to get his cut from my savings, so I had to do that Playboy to pay him off. No, money is useless in here."

"Then what do you want?" Jane asked.

Cassandra smiled, and began to undo her blouse.

"Here's how it's going go down." Cassandra said as she stripped. "I'm tired of doing everything myself. I'm not talking oral here, but if you want me to talk then I'm going feel someone else's fingers on my tits and in my cunt."

Jane and Trish exchanged looks, Jane blushing dark red from head to toe while Trish's blush was less total.

"That's non negotiable." Cassandra said, folding her blouse and removing her bra. "I don't need you both, but one of you is going to get me off. You do that and you get an exclusive, no holds barred interview where I'll answer anything you want."

"Um, but... um..." Jane muttered.

Trish sighed.

"Is there any tequila?" Trish asked.

"What, are you a 'I'm too drunk to know better' lezzie?" Cassandra asked. "Sorry, there's no booze here."

"Well if it was anyone else." Trish muttered.

"Are you sure?" Jane asked.

"Look, if you don't get this interview you won't get a job, right?" Trish asked. "And I used to have her poster on my wall, and not just because we have the same birthday."

"Yeah, I was really hot in the day." Cassandra smiled. "Lots of girls wrote me love letters. Those were less creepy than most of the stuff the boys wrote, what the men wrote! Half of them wanted to see me on their laps as they felt me up and the other half wanted me over their laps as they taught me the lesson they said I needed to learn. But those days had people to read my mail, so if you sent me a coming out letter I didn't see it."

"Um, I didn't, not really, but once or twice I wrote and asked if we could spend our birthday together." Trish admitted.

"You get to get your wish, kind of." Cassandra said as she stepped out of her panties. "You get to hang with me and me in my birthday suit. Your clothes can stay on, I don't care, but I'm getting naked here."

"Um, can we start the interview soon?" Jane asked.

Cassandra, now naked, laid down on the floor.

"The moment she touches my thighs is the moment I start talking, and nothing before." Cassandra declared.

Jane wondered if the former starlet was really that stupid. Trish hadn't started, but Jane already knew about Cassandra's bitterness about Disney, how she was ripped off by her agent, the real reason she had done the Playboy spread, and all sorts of things about the letters Cassandra used to get.

Trish wasn't enthusiastic, but she put her hands to work.

"That's it." Cassandra sighed. "You can make it slow. Now what did you want to know?"

"Um, first, um..."

"I'm throwing you off, aren't I?" Cassandra laughed. "I bet you never thought your first big interview would happen like this, did you? Try to focus, because when I'm done the interview's done, and the price goes up after that."

"Up how?" Jane asked.

"Your mouth, my crotch, and your friend isn't all that good at this, is she?"

"I wouldn't know." Jane blushed.

"Hey, I can get there myself." Trish protested. "I'm just not used to doing things from this angle, okay?"

"It's getting better." Cassandra said. "You better start asking now."

"Um, okay, what are you doing here?" Jane started.

"The deep philosophical question, or why is my ass in jail?" Cassandra asked.

"Um, the jail thing."

"It's totally not my fault." Cassandra began. "Okay, I knew I was holding, but I thought there was weed in the package. It wasn't a big package and it wasn't enough weed to get me for intent to deal. But it wasn't weed, it was coke, and you need less coke for intent. And I didn't know who I was carrying for, so I couldn't give them the next guy up the line. That got me a 10 months here."

Jane turned away so she could make her mental notes without seeing Trish's hand on Cassandra's pussy.

"And when was that?" Jane asked.

"About a year ago and that's nice, more there." Cassandra answered.

"But you said you got 10 months." Jane said.

"Yeah, at first."

"At first?"

"You don't know?" Cassandra laughed. "No one told you yet?"

"Told me what?" Jane asked.

"Come on, play with my tits. Get more of your hand in there. Find my button."

"Told me what?" Jane repeated.

"Ah yeah, there was budget problem a couple years ago, maybe five." Cassandra sighed. "My lawyer mentioned it when I took the deal, but I didn't worry about it."

"Worry about what?" Jane pressed.

"It takes too long to get a girl to court to add time to a sentence." Cassandra grinned, licking her lips. "You know, when an inmate throws something at a guard or smashes something? Minor shit like that. You ooh you got to get the girl on the van the day before court so she's at the local jail, and she's got to be in the local lockup on the day of the trial, and maybe the day after. That's ummm yeah that's two van rides and three days at local lockup, and staff members have to take a day off to testify, and it all adds up to real money. Not like umm that money that the mouse oooh owes me, but money."

"I see."

"But you can save money if the staff here can add a littlllle some um thing to her sentence. Not um much, just ah a week."

"That does make sense." Jane nodded, still looking away. "But 10 months and a week is less than a year."

"They can only, um, that's good, but another finger can fit inside. They can only add a week at a time, but the only limit is once a day." Cassandra said, moving closer to Trish.

"I don't get it." Jane admitted.

"I sure as hell did." Cassandra laughed. "My first week here I earned an extension every day. And a strapping or two, and I had Punishment Night. My butt was throbbing, but the worst bit was I had another seven weeks. I served one week and then I had another seven more to serve."

"That's almost up to a year." Jane noted.

"Ohh yeah, oh yeah, well I got more after that. I ummm I think I got another seven months to go." Cassandra moaned. "I'm oooh serving 19 months on a 10 month sentence and do my nipples oh that's oh."

Jane asked more questions, and Cassandra answered around what Trish was doing. With Cassandra distracted by her pleasure, Jane was able to get the woman to dish about her former co-stars, getting honest (if cruel) opinions of the people she had once worked with.

Then Cassandra was moaning too much to answer anything. Jane tried to ignore what they were doing, putting things into perspective. Some of the story made sense, but other parts didn't. The bit about a minor extension, that made sense, but there had to be limits on it, didn't there? Maybe Cassandra was just confused. The girl had done a lot drugs in her day. Maybe she thought she was pleading to 10 months and had pleaded to 20?

Afterwards, when Cassandra was dressing, the inmate looked at Trish with a smile.

"Maybe we should do this again next week?" Cassandra suggested.

"Um, we're, I mean Jane and me, we're getting out next Friday." Trish told her.

"Yeah, sure, you go on thinking that." Cassandra laughed.


When they were alone, Jane thanked her friend.

And thanked her friend and thanked her to the point that it was annoying.

"Just shut up about it." Trish said, clearly embarrassed. "And don't mention it again. Seriously. If I wasn't willing to do it then I wouldn't have."

"But you..."

"And now I can say I had my one and only sober lezzie experience was with Cassandra Ellen Foster." Trish smiled. "I didn't have a lezzie crush on her, not really, but back in high school I would probably been willing to make out with her. Not nude, but maybe in bikinis or something. And now I had my first sober hookup with her. I maybe should be thanking you."

"Well..."

"But I'm not and you totally owe me." Trish said. "That reminds me: can I crash on your couch next month? Please? Just so I don't have to hook up with that nerd."

"Um, well..."

"Come on, I went lezzie for you. I mean I went lezzie because you wanted, I mean, I mean you owe me, so please?"

"Um, sure, I guess." Jane muttered, already worrying about how they would live together in such a small space.


Jane worried a bit that night, but Trish stayed in her own bed. She did hear Trish muttering in the other bed, saying something about getting caught practice kissing a girlfriend behind a closed door, followed by some noises that sounded almost like smacks, but weak ones, as Trish got herself off. Jane tried to resist the idea, but with Trish going at it Jane couldn't resist quietly doing herself as well. As she did. Jane had two mental images battling in her mind. One was of a musclebound weightlifter that she had seen competing in the Olympics. She didn't know his name or what nation he competed for, but he was a mental favourite of hers. The other image was of Trish and Cassandra, but with the starlet looking as good as when she was billed as Cassandra Ellen Foster and had her own TV show, as the two of them got down and dirty.

As she quietly finished, Jane wasn't sure which image had gotten her across that line.


Part 9 - An Unwelcome Surprise

Monday was bittersweet. They had the interview that Jane needed and this was their release date, but they weren't going anywhere. Jane asked, just in case Mr. Grandy had been confused about that part, but every CO confirmed that the pair's released date was on Friday. That as a matter of policy all transfers from the county were released on Friday, no exceptions.

Health class was boring, something about always washing your hands after touching certain parts of your body. It was basic information, and just as meaningless as the grade school math and penmanship lessons.

Tuesday started just as boring, but their schedule was interrupted for a special appointment with Mr. Grandy.

The office door read "Kevin Grandy - Deputy Head". The man looked the same as before, but Jane and Trish were a bit more self confidant. They now had more experience with wearing the uniform, and this time their hands weren't cuffed behind their backs.


"Come in, come in." Mr. Grandy said with a smile. "Our guests from county are here. Now has everyone been making your stay here a pleasant one? Let's see, I don't think I've read any reports of you earning strappings, so you must be fitting in well."

"Um, is there any chance we could be released today?" Jane asked.

"It is past our release date." Trish added. "Just give us our clothes back and we'll find our own way back to town."

"Oh, that's impossible." Mr. Grandy told her. "That would be going against policy. And policy is why we are talking today. Yes, policy. As you are due to be released this week, your names will be posted for the COs to read."

"They will?" Jane asked.

"Yes, in case there are any outstanding issues facing you that should be resolved at tomorrow's Punishment Night."

"What?" Jane asked.

"But we skipped that, didn't we?" Trish asked.

"No, you skipped the welcoming strapping." Mr. Grandy told them. "No, this is just to clear the record. It's nothing to worry about, just something that most of the inmates face sooner or later."

"But it's the strap, right?" Trish asked. "That sound like something to worry about."

"No, no it's nothing to worry about." Mr. Grandy assured them. "It will happen or not happen, and you worrying won't make any difference on the outcome. Now we will see you tomorrow or Thursday and, oh, yes, you should see the room. Yes, it is empty now, isn't it? Well if you will just follow me?"

Mr. Grandy led the pair to another building, punching lock codes as they left and entered buildings.

A few internal doors later, they were entering the lower level of a small auditorium. Several rows of seating (with wide aisles) looked down on the main floor, but neither Jane nor Trish wasted time looking at the seats. Their eyes were fixed on a series of devices, at least 20 of them, at the front of the auditorium.

"Now on Punishment Night, inmates are led through that door and positioned on those devices and, no, you might not be able to picture it and, yes, picture. I'll show you a picture." Mr. Grandy told them."

Jane and Trish were stunned. Mr. Grandy had to lead them to the side wall, which was decorated with a series of 12 by 10 photos. Jane and Trish stared at them, mouths agog.

The first one showed a pair of before and after photos, one from the rear, one from the side. The same inmate was in each picture, or at least the girls assumed it was the same inmate that was shown. In each of them the girl was bent, her bottom offered to anyone standing behind her. She had her thighs secured apart, her belly secured to the long part of the device's frame, her wrist were secured behind, and her head was on the other side of a stocks like device.

The woman was wearing the Carnacki's uniform blouse, tie, the socks, and shoes, and nothing else. The inmate looked helpless, completely at the mercy of the person who put the inmate on the frame. With her thighs open, more than just her bottom was visible.

The before photo showed her with a pale backside, the after one showed deep red cheeks and thighs. To Jane's eyes, it looked like bruises were in the process of forming.

Another photo showed inmates secured on each of the frames, a wall of bottoms waiting to be strapped. The next photo put lie to Jane's assumption that those bottoms were waiting to be strapped as people used a variety of instruments on the upturned bottoms. There were a few straps, but there were also paddles, canes, and other instruments crashing down on the bared bottoms.

"Those are punishment frames." Mr. Grandy explained needless. "Some people call them spanking benches, but the frame secure inmates better than merely bending them over a bench. The inmates enter, remove their skirts, have their torso secured, then their panties are lowered, and the remaining restraints are used to secure them in place. After that, the punishment begins."

"That's awful." Trish moaned.

"What's that in their mouths?" Jane asked.

"Those are devices to protect teeth and tongues." Mr. Grandy revealed. "We don't want someone grinding her teeth hard enough to crack them or biting through their tongues, so we prevent that from happening. Now if you had arrived in the morning, and been deemed to arrive in the previous week cycle, then you would have been secured there that morning. I should have made sure you saw this that first day, but I confused my blue triangle pills with my blue diamond shaped pills, and sometimes things get blurry when that happens. But you know now, so that's fixed."

"You would have do that to us?" Jane asked.

"You would really put me on one of those things?" Trish asked.

"Me? No, of course not. I have had no interaction with you." Mr. Grandy answered. "But the COs? If you've been ignoring them, or giving them a hard time, then they know that they have to resolve that sooner rather than later. Now to get you back on your schedule. You are supposed to be dish washing now, correct? Don't worry, you will be back there before they resort to turning on the dishwashers."


Dishes were washed in a trance like state. The day passed in a haze. It was only near lights' out that they talked.

"Jane, did you know about those things?" Trish asked.

"No! I, I guess I thought they'd have girls bend and give them a lick or two." Jane replied. "Seriously, I tried all sorts of research and I didn't read anything about them."

"Are you sure?"

"I didn't see any pictures of them, or think they'd hit someone that hard. Did you see the pictures? I think I saw bruises. Did you see bruises?"

"You really didn't know?"

"There's no way I'd have come here if I knew." Jane answered. After a brief pause she asked: "Would you have come with me if you had known?"

"Fuck no! I'm not that sweet. Even with meeting someone I used to watch on TV, no, that wouldn't do it. That place, that's crazy. Risking a strict parent is one thing, but those things are way too kinky. Not even if I was drunk. Very drunk. Tequila shots and jello shooters drunk. No, I wouldn't be here even if I was that drunk."


The next morning started normal enough. Everything seemed normal, until the afternoon. When she was making her way between classes, one of the male COs cut out of the flow of traffic with a pair of curt sentences.

"We need to talk about that thing. Follow me."

Jane trailed quickly after him as he led her down a corridor. The CO entered a key code on a door panel and then led Jane through the door.

Into a room that was half full of bundles of copier paper. The second that Jane saw it was a storeroom she knew she was in trouble.

The CO entered after Jane, closing the door after himself. The door locked with a click.

"I've been keeping an eye on you." The CO told her. "I've got half a mind to put you on report. Make sure you make an appearance at Punishment Night. You do know what that means, don't you, or did one of Kevin Grandy's side effects cancel that part of the tour? Maybe I should take you there now."

"No, I know about room." Jane assured him.

"That's good. Kevin's a good guy, and he needs this job. He'd be dead without the health plan to pay for his pills and he's only a couple of years from early retirement with full medical. But back to you. People have noticed that your room smells like you and the other girl are going at like rabbits."

"We aren't." Jane assured him. "We..."

"You're just been frigging yourself? The two of you? Maybe yes, maybe no. Maybe the pair of you need to be on the report. You'd have to convince me not to put you there."

"Um, how do I do that?" Jane asked.

The CO reached over and grabbed hold of her right breast.

Jane's mouth opened, but no words came out. She'd been groped like that before, several times, but usually by drunks or dates who were trying to skip bases.

"Now some guys would ask you to strip off and ride them." The CO said as he felt her boob. "But me? I like head. All you cute young inmates, watching your asses bounce around all day, a man needs something. Now no pressure, but if you don't want your ass strapped tonight you're going to drop to your knees and start sucking."

"But..."

"If you don't want to, we leave, I put you on report, and you get your ass blistered tonight." The CO said as he enjoyed her right boob. "But pick now."

Jane didn't have to think about it. She had offered to do anything for the interview and she meant it. She had been willing to sleep with Anton to get here, and what was sucking of a stranger compared to sleeping Anton?

She dropped to her knees and fished his dick out.

"Now do a good job, or, well you get the idea."

Jane ignored his words and put her mouth to work.


When Jane met up with Trish at dinner, Jane wondered what reaction her friend would have to her missing their last class. Trish beat her to the punch.

"One of the COs put the moves on me." Trish revealed. "Either I gave oral or I'd be on the list."

"I got the same choice." Jane replied.

"Well I just tried to pretend that she was Cassandra Ellen Foster and went to work." Trish said. "You?"

"Um, it was guy so I sucked his dick." Jane responded.

"Lucky you." Trish answered. "You owe me a night of tequila shots when we get home."

"Um, sure." Jane agreed. "But that might have to wait until I get a job."


Part 10 - Selected for Punishment Night

They were leaving the dinning hall when a pair of COs stopped them. Both girls thought they would have to put their mouths to work again, only to be told that their names were already on report.

"What? But I... Who put it there?" Jane asked before she realised that it was a meaningless question. She wanted to know if the CO had back stabbed her, but she didn't even know the name of the guy whose dick she had sucked.

"It didn't say."

The pair were escorted to a barred cell, the first real jail they had seen here, and left there. There was a concrete bench, a toilet, a roll of TP, and nothing to occupy their minds.

"I can't believe this." Trish moaned. "After what I did I'm still on the list? How could she did it?"

"Maybe it was a different CO?" Jane suggested.

"I practically got a hairball." Trish complained. "All because I had to do it. Just like I had do that stuff with Cassandra. It was worse than with that drunk girl."

Jane considered an old saying, about once being an accident, twice being coincidence, and three times...

"Um, I'm not judging. We're in a women's prison and everything and I'm not judging anyone." Jane began. "But for a completely straight girl, and I'm not saying you aren't one, but for a straight girl you get into a lot of situations where you end up having sex with a girl."

"I'm not bi." Trish shot back. "I don't care what anyone says, I'm not even the least bit attracted to girls."

"Uh huh." Jane said. "And when we're together..."

"Don't take this the wrong way." Trish said. "But you don't have the boobs you'd need to attract a girl. You look okay from behind, but your front's too much like a boy's. Up top, not down there. But I wouldn't know because I'm not bi."

With that point settled, they switched to the only thing they had to talk about.

"Jane? Do you think they'll really strap us?"

"You've seen the red bottoms." Jane answered. "They had to get red somehow."

"Damn. Do you think we'll have a safe word?"

"Do you?" Jane countered.

"Um, no." Trish admitted.

With that settled, they didn't have much to talk about. Both Jane and Trish made feeble attempts at smalltalk, but it went nowhere. Both girls were too focused on what was to come to talk about lesser subjects.

Jane couldn't help picturing herself tightly bound to one of those devices. Laying, helpless, naked from the waist down, completely at the mercy of whoever held the strap. Not that she had any illusion of mercy. Every breakfast had seen girls in short nightgowns and thongs sporting marks on their backsides, far too many marked backsides to hope to be spared.

It hit her that tomorrow she would be one of the girls showing marks on her bottom and thighs, and no one would even notice it. She would just be another face in the crowd, with the same clothes, hair, and marked bottom as the other girls.


It seemed an eternity later before anyone came to check on them. When it happened, it was the head CO.

"Listen up inmates, you have a choice." Ferguson said as she opened the cell door.

"Okay." Trish said. "If I have to I'll eat you out."

"What? Look, this isn't a prison exploitation movie." Ferguson snapped. "No one is secretly lust after your little snatch. And there isn't a shower scene coming up."

"Chill." Trish said. "I thought you meant..."

"Now back to your choice." Ferguson said, ignoring Trish. "When it's your turn you can walk into the room, take off your skirt, and get on the frame. That's choice one, and that' the one you want to make."

"It is?" Jane asked.

"It's better than choice two. Choice two is you get stripped now and we drag you in there naked. You collect a few extra bruises that way." Ferguson told them. "Either way, you go over that frame."

"Um, choice one?" Jane suggested.

"Yeah, I think choice one." Trish agreed.

"Smart choice." Ferguson agreed.

Ferguson led them from the cell to a room where about a dozen miscible looking inmates waited with a few COs. At a nod of Ferguson's head, the other COs got the prisoners moving.

Jane's throat went dry as she entered that auditorium for the second time. Last time she was there with a slightly wacky bureaucrat, this time she was with a line of inmates who were going to be starring on Punishment Night. Bright lights were shining down on the frames, blocking Jane's view of the seats. While she couldn't see past the glare, she could hear enough to know that some of those seats were full.

Someone called that another line was being set up. Jane winced at that voice. Not only was it male, but it drove home that Jane, Trish, and the rest on the inmates with them weren't special. They might be part of Punishment Night, but the entire group of inmates were just one part of the night's activities. Jane had no idea how many women would be stretched over those frames tonight. Somehow that fact belittled her, making her less a victim and more just a clog in a machine.


Part 11 - Punishment Night

Walking on unsteady knees, Jane was directed to a spot in front of a frame. Trish was directed to the one to her right. Seeing Trish undoing her skirt, Jane forced herself to undo hers. She was under the eyes of God knew how many people, some of them men, were watching her undo her skirt. This wasn't like being in a locker room where everyone was stripping, this was like being stage at a strip club.

And that was someplace that Jane never wanted to be.

Trish's skirt hit the floor, but Jane held on to hers for a second or two before allow it to hit the floor.

The COs were treating things like a production line. One was walking down the line, binding the girls' wrists. As her wrists were secured, Jane realised that there was no she could even try to escape now. Another CO came by and bent the inmates over the frames, lining them up for the best possible fit, and securing their torsos in place. Jane closed her eyes against the inevitable, but it didn't slow things down. She felt strong hands go around her waist, lifting her from her feet. Her eyes stayed close as she laid on the frame. Strong bond were applied, fixing her in place. She tried to keep her head up, but eventually she lowered it.

Resting her neck on the padded leather neck liner of the stocks part of the device.

A CO walked by the inner part of the frames, lifting the upper board of the stocks and locking in place. Jane opened her eyes only after her stock was fastened securely down. She could see Trish's face and the face of the nameless redhead inmate to the left, but little more. Craning her head she could see a few more inmates in either direction, but only their heads. Try so she might she couldn't see past the stocks. Her own body was now a visual mystery to her.

The next CO came by to fit her with the 'tongue protector'. As it was forced in her mouth and fastened around her head, Jane realised that it was less for her protection and more to render her words meaningless. She tried to curse her fate, but only a weird mumbling emerged from her mouth.

Craning her ears, she tried to hear the next CO walking past, but she couldn't. Her first hint that the next CO had reached her was when her panties were pulled down to her knees.

Jane tried to escape then. To climb off the frame or wiggle away, but she couldn't. Her body was held fast to the frame. All she accomplished was wiggling her bottom a bit and wave her legs. Then a strong hand was on her left thigh, holding it in place as straps secured it to the frame. After her right thigh was secured, Jane found herself holding her breath.

Her thighs were apart, straining the limits of her panty's elastic, and that could only mean one thing: her legs were open. Her legs were open, her bottom was at eye level, and everyone in the auditorium could look down and see between her crack. Until this point Jane could count on one hand the number of men who had see her holes, but now that number was who knows how high.

A trickle of urine ran down her thigh as she finally accepted that there was nothing she could do about this.

The crack of leather hitting skin echoed through the auditorium, answered by the wordless howl of an inmate. Jane winced as two impacts blended together, producing nonsensical howls from another pair of inmates. A wave of pain rose from Jane's left bottom cheek. Her howl was joining the others before she heard the crack of the strap that had impacted on her bottom.

The second impact produced a yelp. Jane tried to yell her defiance as the third smack landed, but she couldn't form a word. Tears filled her eyes as the question of safe words was finally settled; how could there be a safe word when you couldn't form a single word?

Trish was howling her pain one of her fears was confirmed, that this was far beyond any parental discipline she would consider courting.

Blow after blow fell as Jane struggled importantly against the blows. Almost as bad as the pain was the knowledge of how she must look. How vulnerable she appeared, with her most intimate places held open for all the witnesses to see.

At some point, the straps stopped falling. It took long moments for this to sink in for Jane. When it did, her first question was why. Why had the strapping stopped? Jane didn't play much with an eye to discovering her limits, but even she knew that she hadn't reached the limits of what her bottom could take. Not that she was comfortable, or she wanted more pain, but the pain wasn't throbbing yet.

Jane felt a hand touching where the strap had landed. Trish winced as a hand made contact with her hot flesh.

"Hello ladies. Fancy running into you here." Anton Gates said, stroking both bottoms.

Jane stiffened at the sound of his voice.

"You can consider this the halftime performance, not that we're exactly halfway through your punishments." Anton said, his fingers moving. "Now you might be wondering if I'm right handed or left handed."

Jane gasped as his fingers entered her. Trish groaned as fingers teased their way inside.

"Yes, I do have a hand on each of your asses." Anton grinned. "With fingers working inside each of your wonderful cunts. That's why you'd be wondering about which hand I use better. Well, both you cunts are lucky because I'm one of those rare people who are ambidextrous. You can lay, secure in the knowledge you're both going cum."

Jane could feel her body betraying her. Despite the pain, Anton's expert fingers were working magic.

"You both said you'd do anything if I helped you, but I didn't say what I wanted." Anton smirked. "Well, surprise! I want to see you both like this. That's why I put you both on the list for Punishment Night. Have either of you ever cum after a strapping, even a mild one like this one? Oh, you can't answer, can you? You have those things in your mouths. Well, now you're going to cum. Cum buckets. I've been to dozens of these things and I always try to make two girls cum. You two are the lucky ones today."

Intense feelings warred inside Jane. The pain of the strap, the helplessness of the restraints, the shame of being seen like this, and the pleasure of Anton's fingers.

To her immense surprise, Anton's fingers began to win out. They teased and probed her. The fingers not inside her pussy worked magic of their own as Anton pressed them hard into her burning flesh. A few times they flirted with her asshole, but mostly they kept reminding Jane that her bottom was hot and sore from the strap.

Shame swept through Jane's body, hitting her to the core. She had basically offered to sleep with Anton, and she had been ready to follow through, and being fingered was nothing compared to using her body to get a story, so that wasn't it. No, it was the fact that she was on display in front of God knew how many people and she was on the verge of cumming. On of the most private, personal act, and she was sharing it with a room full of strangers.

Three of Anton's fingers shifted, and she was no longer on the verge. Waves of pleasure cut through the pain, she moaning in a way that had nothing to do with the strapping, and it didn't matter that she wasn't alone,

She heard Trish moaning in the same way, the way she had heard Trish moaning most nights since they had arrived here. Jane had fought to moan more quietly than Trish. They had shared that room, but they had never moaned in unison before.

As their voices intertwined, Jane couldn't help wondering how many people were listening to their duet. Glancing away from Trish, Jane saw the inmate on her left was rocking rhythmical, as if someone was pounding her from behind. Cumming, Jane wondered if she was lucky that Anton was only using his hand.

Anton withdrew his hands, chuckling about the powers of his magic fingers.

"Yeah, how does that song go? 'Come on home', 'he's got the magic hands mama', something like that. Another double header for Anton and his magic fingers."

He chuckled as he left them.


Jane was floating gently in the afterglow when the strap's impact jotted her from it. The abrupt transition, from pleasure to pain ripped a wordless scream from her throat.

The strap fell again, and again, impacting on flesh that had already been strapped hard. Jane tried to struggle, but she was a helpless, just another near naked victim of the Carnacki Correctional Institute for Women. The previous strapping stopped short of her limits, but this one took her far beyond anything she had conceived of as a limit.

When it was over, Jane lay there, still bound. She was sure that she could feel bruises forming on her bottom and thighs, but she was too wrapped in her own misery to care about that. She blanketed herself in those feelings, not coming out of them until she was in the infirmary. It took being chained faced down in a cot for her to react to the world again.

Someone told her that they were just doing the normal post Punishment Night treatment, but that didn't change the fact that she was chained down.

A hand began rubbing a lotion on Jane's bottom. She tried to shy away from it, but the shackles held her in firmly place as pair worked the lotion in, massaging her burning backside. Jane yelped into her gag, but the hands didn't stop.

Then they moved, the lotion no longer being rubbed in. Fingers were entering her, some in her pussy, two stretching at her ass, which was one more than she had ever felt comfortable with. Jane moaned, and the fingers left her pussy to be replaced by vibrator, but the other fingers continued to work her ass.

"That's it, you like that, do you? You girls are all the same. Just waiting for the strap to free you from any inhibitions you might have. How many guys have been up here? A dozen? Twenty? A hundred? And how many girls?"

Jane couldn't stop herself from responding. The throbbing of her backside and thighs merged with the action of the vibrator as those hateful words filled her ears. Even as she had that thought, Jane knew that she was wrong. The woman wasn't saying that to be hateful, she was saying it because she thought it would make Jane hotter.

And maybe it did.

Jane couldn't separate the sensations. All she could do was ride them to oblivion.


Jane had heard of petite mort before, but it wasn't until she woke up in her room at lights' on that she knew she had actually experienced it. Someone had dressed her in a nightgown, and she could feel the thong biting into her battered backside.

A moan from the next bed reminded Jane that she had a roommate. A glance confirmed that Trish was laying face down on the other cot.

Trish angled herself up on one elbow, looking towards Jane.

"Last night, after the strapping, in that medical place, did they..."

"Did they ever." Jane answered.

"Me too." Trish sighed. "I think there was something in that lotion."

"Something?"

"Something more than just soothing stuff." Trish said. "Something that made me feel it more. Or maybe something to put me out of it."

"Um, but... petting mort?" Jane suggested.

"Petite mort." Trish corrected. "And I had that before. Or maybe I passed out drunk doing it, but I think it was petite mort, and I don't think... Okay, maybe, but it only last for a while and why didn't we wake up after? When they moved us, when they dressed us, why didn't we wake up?"

"Um, maybe it was the beating?" Jane suggested.

"Maybe." Trish agreed.

Dressing, the girls couldn't help checking out their backsides in the mirror, and checking on each other's war wounds. Normally Jane didn't like comparing bodies, but today she had to. There was just no way to see everything in that single mirror, she had to use Trish as her refection - which meant she had to let Trish look too.

They didn't have much time to get ready for breakfast. As they dressed, Jane learned that Trish had had a 'male nurse' while revealing that a woman had rubbed the lotion (and used a vibrator) on her.

Standing in line for breakfast, Jane was sure that every eye was on her. That everyone was seeing the marks on her thighs and getting glimpses of the ones on her bottom whenever her hem went up. Jane wanted to crawl in a hole and die, but Trish was taking things in stride. She even 'accidentally' dropped something so she could pick it up. Seeing her friend bending at the waist, Jane no longer had to image what she would like if her nightgown went up; Trish's display showed Jane exactly how she would look.

Sitting for breakfast was a new experience. Jane had never sat on a bruised bottom before, not that she could remember, and she wasn't expecting the hurt.

The day passed in a blur. Jane hated how much her exercise clothes showed. Even her normal uniform showed her fading marks from Punishment Night. Nothing could shift her mind from how people must be looking at her. Even health class, where they showed the best way to give suppositories of various sizes, wasn't enough to break Jane from her sulk.

At least until dinner ended.


Part 12 - Another Surprise

They were both cut from the crowd by COs. Jane's heart was in her throat, convinced that she would be taken back to the other building, but their trip ended at Kevin Grandy's office.

"Ah, the county girls again." Mr. Grandy said as he wave her in. "Come in. Please, sit, or stand if you are more comfortable that way."

If this had been a breakfast meeting then Jane would have stood, but after a day of sitting in classes she sat beside Trish. She wasn't sure if the pain was mostly gone or if she had simply become used to it, but Jane barely felt any pain when she sat.

"Yes, we keep meeting this way, don't we?" Mr. Grandy said. "Sorry, it is my fault. I should have mentioned this when you arrived. I really should start keeping a checklist for these sorts of things, but how many girls do we get from county? Maybe a couple each month, if that, and if that worth making up a new checklist? Now for our normal arrivals, that lecture is standard, but when inmates arrive at other times, well, there we are."

"We are?" Trish asked.

"Ah, yes, today's meeting." Mr. Grandy said with a smile. "I did say that we would meet today or Wednesday, and just because we met yesterday it doesn't cancel today's meeting. Now are you both ready for the hearing?"

"Our what?" Jane asked.

"Your release hearing." Mr. Grandy told her. "We have them before every release, and always on Thursday. That's why our release day is Friday; didn't I mention that?"

"No." Jane said.

"But we don't need a hearing." Trish said. "We've already spent extra days here."

"That's right." Jane said quickly. "We have a release date, not an indeterminate sentence."

"Yeah, a date not an indie thing." Trish agreed.

"Of course you have a release date." Mr. Grandy agreed. "Most inmates do. But we can't release a girl until she is ready to be a law abiding citizen, could we? Don't worry, it's a just a simple hearing, then a vote over whether you are to be released."

"But what happens if they say no?" Jane asked. "You've already kept us passed our release date. You can't hold us more than that. It wouldn't be legal."

"Oh, there's no need to worry about that." Mr. Grandy told her. "If they vote no they'll say you caused a disturbance at the hearing and extend your sentence."

"But you already extended it from Monday." Trish wailed.

"That's right, we did." Mr. Grandy nodded. "And we can only extend it once a day."

Jane felt some tension leave her.

"Which means we'll have to extend it again, on Friday morning before we handle releases." Mr. Grandy told them. "We can even backdate the first extension to last week and make it so it ends on Friday. Yes, we'll do that now, just to make sure that everything looks right on your paperwork."

"What? You can't backdate something like that." Jane protested.

"Normally, no, we couldn't, the computer wouldn't let us." Mr. Grandy replied. "But your paperwork is actually on paper. The computer has some time stamp system that logs everything, but ink? Who's to say when a pen was put to paper? Now if there is nothing, you... Jane is it? Jane, your hearing is at 7:15 and, is it Patricia? Trish then. Your hearing is at 7:30. See? I told you they were simple things."

"But... But that's not right!" Jane protested. "We should have been released on Monday and, and, and..."

"Please calm down." Mr. Grandy said. "Otherwise I'll have to have you strapped, and the hearing never goes well when the girl arrives crying with a sore bottom."

"But this isn't fair!" Trish protested.

"Or I could cancel the hearing." Mr. Grandy offered. "I could just extend your sentences now because you are raising your voice to me and you wouldn't have to have a hearing until next week. Do you want that?"

"No." Jane said, with Trish quickly echoing her.

"No what?" Mr. Grandy asked.

Anton's skilful hands had them moaning in unison last night, but fear synced their voices today. Speaking as one they answered:

"No Sir."

"Then you should begin preparing for your hearing." Mr. Grandy told them.


They were taken to a different building, placed into difference small rooms and left to stew in their juices. Lacking a watch, Jane had no way of guessing how time was passing.

Finally the door to her cubical was opened. Jane was led into a room, and she didn't like what she saw. There was a man in a suit sitting at a desk, but there was a screen behind him. Jane could make out shapes behind the screen, shapes of men sitting there.

Then someone walked between the light and the screen. Someone with a woman's shape. Jane watched the woman dropped to her knees in front of one of the men. Jane couldn't make out details, but from the shadows it looked like the woman had her mouth at one of the men's crotches.

Which couldn't be a good sign.

The man at the desk opened a folder. The paper in the file looked like the one that Anton had produced.

"Hello, my name is Chris, just Chris, and you are Jane, correct? Good, we hate when we make mistakes here. And it's just Chris, no last name, no title, just Chris. We try to keep things informal here."

Jane nodded her understanding, but didn't risk saying anything. She was afraid that, if she spoke, she would mention something about it being so informal someone was getting his dick sucked, and she knew that it was the wrong thing to say.

"I conduct the interview while the voting members remain behind the screen." Chris continued. "We use the screen for two reasons. First, to prevent inappropriate interactions. You would be surprised to know how many inmates tried to flirt with the reviewers before we installed the screen, and that includes the female reviewers. The second reason is retaliation. Members of the review board need to able to vote their conscious without fear that an inmate, or an inmate's family, or an inmate's friends, will seek revenge. Nod if you understand this."

Jane nodded.

"Now, in your own words, please explain why you feel you are ready to be released back into society." Chris ordered.

"Well, my sentence is up." Jane said.

"We know what you were sentenced to." Chris said. "A month, for a first offence. Your first offence and it being so minor, a month seems like a long time, doesn't it?"

"It was up on Monday." Jane said.

Chris shuffled papers.

"Yes, I can see that we've already had to extend your sentence once." Chris noted. "That is likely to count against you."

"But I didn't do anything! They said that they wouldn't release me until Friday."

"That's an administrative delay." Chris countered. "Your file notes a formal extension of your sentence."

"But, it was, no, it was only..."

"Do you have any cogent any remarks to present to the review board?" Chris asked. "If not, you can go now."

Jane wanted to scream at him, but she knew that wouldn't help, so she nodded and left.


Trish was escorted to their room maybe twenty minutes after Jane was taken there. The girl was limping and she had tears on her face.

"They strapped me." Trish sniffed. "They fucking strapped me! Five times! On my skirt! Just because I was trying to make that fucking idiot listen to me."

Jane nodded, relieved that she had held her tongue.

"That fucking bastard tricked me!" Trish said. "He brought up the sentence, calling it long, and so I told him the story about the plea deal, and do you know what that prick said? He said he was glad I had admitted the element of violence and did I feel that a violent offender should be released? I tried to explain how I wasn't violent and he didn't listen and I started screaming and then this CO came in... Jane, I think I blew my hearing."

"My didn't go good either." Jane admitted. "They said that because my sentence was extended it would count against me."

"Oh God. Jane, what are we going to do if they don't let us out?"

"We wait a week." Jane said hopefully. "We wait and next time we know better and we know how to explain things at the next hearing."

"You're right." Trish said. "We keep out cool and talk things out. They can't keep us here if we know what to say, right?"

"Right." Jane agreed, hoping that they weren't being too optimistic.

"And this works out even better." Trish said with a smile. "For me."

"How?" Jane demanded.

"None of my roommates will see me before the August rent is due, so they can't try to get July's rent out of me." Trish said with a smile. "Not when it's August."

Jane couldn't think of anyway to answer that, so turned away.


That night, Trish changed for bed early. Jane couldn't help looking at the red marks that were on Trish's backside. She felt guilty about looking, but that guilt died when Trish lowered her thong before getting under her sheets.

"Sorry Jane, but tonight I'm not waiting for lights' out." Trish said. "That CO spanking me? It was too close to that old fantasy about a strict parent, and I just can't wait."

"Strict parent?" Jane said, trying to think of a way to dissuade her without actually asking her. "You mean them catching you practice kissing behind a locked door?"

Trish froze.

"Who you told, I mean what are you talking, I mean, well just fuck it." Trish said. "You got me into this and you owe me and I need this so I'm doing it. If you watch me then you're the lezzie."

With that Trish retrieved the spoon from its hiding place and started.

Jane watched Trish grinding her backside against the bed, then looked away. She lay on her bed with her back to Trish until after her friend stopped moaning. She stayed there until the lights' out signal went.

Changing for bed, Trish had to wonder how she would put up with Trish for all of August. Getting in bed, Jane wondered if she would let her fingers wander. Somehow it didn't seem right to do it with Trish listening.

"Jane?" Trish asked. "You researched this place, right?"

"Not well enough." Jane sighed.

"Do you know what the other buildings are for?" Trish asked. "We know about the auditorium building and we saw inside that other one tonight, but what about the rest?"

"I don't know." Jane said. "They could be for anything."

"Hmm... Well, it's after lights' out. I should stop talking so you can, you know. I might do it again."

Jane didn't wanted to say that she didn't want to do it with Trish listening, which was stupid. They had been here for weeks and she had been doing it most nights, with Trish in the room.

"Have you tried swats yet?" Trish asked. "If you want, I could come over there and swat you with my spoon a bit?"

"Um, no, that's okay."

"Just be careful you don't hit your love muffin in the dark." Trish warned. "That wasn't a good swat."

"Um, I'll be careful." Jane said.

Then mentally cursed herself. Seconds after the words left her mouth, Jane knew that she should have said that she wasn't going to try swats, but now she had to; Trish would be listening for the sound of wood meeting flesh.

Going about the sheets, Jane hiked up her nightgown but left her thong in place. She put her feet behind her ears and flicked her bottom a few times with the spoon. As she started to moan, Jane couldn't believe that she was faking it for a girl. She'd done it a few times with a guy who didn't know what his dick was for, but Jane never thought she would fake moans just so a girl could hear her.

Fooling a guy was one thing, but fooling a girl? One who had heard Jane making those noises naturally. By breathing hard, the occasional moan and flick of the spoon, Jane hoped that she was convincing Trish.

It wasn't long before there were answering moans from Trish's cot. Jane took it as a sign that Trish was fooled.

Putting the spoon away, Jane regretted that she'd needed to swat herself hard enough to feel it just so that Trish could hear her.


Part 13 - Release Day

Friday afternoon, Jane and Trish were taken from their class. Their hearts started beating hard as they were led the building with the auditorium, but they were taken through different door. They ended up in a 10 by 12 room, a room that held about 10 women wearing inmate uniform. The women were chatting; many of them talking about how happy they were to see the back of this place.

Jane relaxed. Trish started mingling, being careful to avoid exchange personal information. So far they were only on a first name basis with a handful of girls and they didn't want to screw things up now.

The deputy head entered the room, drawing everyone's attention.

"Ah, yes, this is the correct room." Mr. Grandy said. "Good, fourth try lucky as they say. Yes, well, um, yes, you are among the 15 inmates scheduled for release today, are you not?"

Jane did a quick headcount, just to make sure that she had been right, and wondered where the other three inmates were.

"Yes, well, in respect to that, we should review your exit interviews." Mr. Grandy said. "Actually, I have reviewed them, and I am sorry to say that the board's vote was that none of you are ready to be released yet."

"What?" Trish screamed.

"Your sentences have already been extended." Mr. Grandy continued. "Better luck next week, and perhaps..."

Whatever he was planning to say was lost in the commotion. Trish wasn't the only girl screaming. Some of the inmates (Jane among them) were standing there stunned, but four or five were now yelling at the top of their lungs.

That was when the COs arrived, led by Ferguson. They said something about rioting as they hauled the inmates from the room. Jane wasn't surprised that Trish was taken, but she was shocked when they grabbed her.

"But I didn't do anything." Jane protested. "I was just standing there. No, don't tie my arms!"

No one listened to her. Not even when she repeated herself. By the time she was screaming at them, trying to twist out of the hold, Jane realised that it was too late. Even if she hadn't been part of the initial 'riot' she was resisting now and that meant that she was now as guilty as Trish. That if Trish's screams had been rioting then so were Jane's attempts to explain why she hadn't done anything wrong.


They ended up in the auditorium. The lights were glaring again, but Jane didn't think there were anyone in the seats.

Punishment Night had worked like an assembly line (with the end product being strapped inmates), but this was more chaotic. Skirts were undone and allowed to drop to the ground, panties were yanked down, and they were forced over frames. This time Jane wasn't next to Trish, which didn't really matter. Her torso was attached. CO fastened legs to the frame at one end as others fixed the stocks in place at the other. The person working on Jane's thighs finished just as a 'tongue protector' was forced in her mouth.

Being forcibly stripped, that drove home how few options Jane had while the staff here had more than options than she had thought. She now knew that any CO could have ordered her to this room, forced her to strip, and put her over the frame. She had thought they only had control over what clothes she could wear, but now she knew that could decide that she was going to wear clothes at all.

Jane heard Grandy saying something, making an announcement about how this wasn't the end, that they were all going to be included on the next Punishment Night.

Then a strap was crashing down on her bottom and Jane didn't care what the man was saying.

The strap rained down and down. Jane tried to escape, but she couldn't even shift her position. Not to any real extent, all she could do was wiggle a bit.

Jane was screaming to her gag, tears running down her face, when the strap inexplicably failed to land. Not that she was objecting, but the strapping hadn't been as bad as what had happened on Punishment Night. At first she thought it was "halftime" break, but stocks were being raised and binding undone. Someone pull her panties up before her torso was released, but they freed her arms so she could pick up her skirt. Or rather a skirt, because the one she picked up was shorter on her than the skirt she had been wearing.

Not that she would begrudge someone for picking up a longer skirt. Jane knew that she would have grabbed a longer one if she could have, just to cover marks on her thigh.

The 12 of them were marched to the infirmary and told to bend with their skirts up and panties down. A couple of female nurses started working the line, rubbing in lotion. Jane didn't hear the mumbled question, but one of the nurses laughed and gave a loud answer.

"Sorry, but girls only get taken to heaven after Punishment Night. If you want that you'll have to do it yourself, after lights' out, or ask a friend for help. Or maybe find a private place in a bathroom, because you're all due random room inspections."


They were returned to the main building. Jane and Trish found themselves in their room, but with the door unlocked.

"This isn't fair." Trish moaned.

"We need to get word out." Jane decided. "Have you heard anything about visitors or phone calls or anything?"

"No, I haven't." Trish said. "You said not to talk much, remember?"

"This is crazy." Jane said. "They have to let out. How could they do that do that to us?"

"It wasn't that bad." Trish sniffed.

"Wasn't that bad? Trish, they stripped us and strapped us!" Jane said, rubbing at the seat of her skirt.

"But it wasn't extreme like on Wednesday." Trish countered. "This time it was, um, well, um, it was almost parental."

"How would you know?" Jane demanded loudly, wondering if she was finally going to get the whole story from Trish.

"Chill! You can't yell at me. You got me into this so you can't yell at me. I should be yelling at you. How the fuck are we getting out of here?"

"Anton!" Jane exclaimed. "He'll notice when we don't come home. He'll get us out of here."

"That's right!" Trish gushed. "Oh that is so right! He has to get out before anyone finds out. If anyone finds out what he did then he's getting in trouble. Oh that's wonderful! Fuck, I'll let him feel me up again if he gets me out. I'll even fuck him! I'll... Hey, do you know if he has his own house? Maybe I can move in for him for a while."

"I don't know, but he might." Jane replied.

The knowledge that it was only a matter of time before Anton sprang them took tension out of the room. At least the angry kind of tension.

"Um did you hear what they said about room inspections?" Trish asked.

"Yeah." Jane said, flopping face down on her bed.

"Classes are in session, so the bathrooms should be free. It wouldn't be hard to find a place to be alone." Trish pointed out. "If you felt like doing, you know."

"I don't feel like doing 'you know'." Jane replied. "And you wouldn't be alone if I was there."

"Right." Trish said. "See you at dinner."


Part 14 - An Unexpected Turn

Jane was laying face down on her bed, thinking. Being alone she had time to think, and to wonder about Anton. He had known what this place was and he sent them in without warning them. He hadn't even asked before he fingered them. Maybe they were gagged, but he could have asked them to blink twice or wiggle a toe or something to say they were okay with him fingering them. Him not asking, did that mean that he might leave them here? She was no longer sure that he would save them, and Trish was too busy fingering her pussy (or 'love muffin' as she called it) to discuss things.

Her door opened. Ferguson was standing there.

"You. Here. Now."

Jane's backside tensed as she rose, but she obeyed. She didn't even think of disobeying, not after what happened this afternoon.

Ferguson actually grabbed her by the arm and started marching her away. Jane tried asking what was happening, but each time she tried Ferguson told her to shut it.

They ended across from a counter. Another CO opened a plastic window and slid a box to Jane, along with a clipboard.

"You." Ferguson said loudly. "Sign that! Now!"

Jane quickly scrawled her name.

"Strip!" Ferguson ordered. "Shoes socks first! Now! Everything! Off!

Jane trembled as she obeyed. Her shoes, that was nothing. Her socks? Easy. Her 'everything'? No, that wouldn't be easy.

She didn't know this area of the building, but she didn't think they were next to a shower. Or a changing room. Or anyplace where it would normal to be naked. Jane feared that she would be ordered to march naked through the building.

Her skirt hit the ground.

Her blouse was laid on the counter.

Jane paused.

Ferguson grabbed Jane by the scruff of her neck. The head CO marched Jane to the end of the counter and bent her lengthways over it. Ferguson yanked down Jane's panties, landed three good smacks, then pulled them up hard.

Jane was marched back to the window, where the box still rested, and stood there.

"Now strip." Ferguson ordered. "Because if I have to take down your panties again..."

Jane was stepping out of her panties before Ferguson reached the word 'take'. Her bra was off and on the counter before Ferguson said the word 'again'.

Standing there, naked, Jane shivered and wondered fresh indignity would come next.

Ferguson shoved the box to Jane.

"You. Open it! Now!"

Jane scrambled to open it, discovering that the box held clothes.

"You. Bra! Dress. Now!"

Jane scrambled for clothes, grabbing the bra. It was barely on before Ferguson handed her a pair of socks. Jane went down on one knee to put the first sock on, then switched to put the other one.

Bikini panties came next, which Jane gratefully slid them on. It was only when she was donning the slacks that she recognised them.

They were hers. So were the shoes and blouse. The box held her earrings and the other jewellery she normally wore.

Ferguson grabbed her arm, half dragging her as they went to a nearby door. Ferguson punched in a key code and then marched Jane through that door. Leading her towards the main wall.

"What's happening?" Jane asked.

Ferguson halted. She forced Jane to bend at the waist, then started spanking Jane's bottom, barking one word with each spank.

"You. Will. Not. Ask. Ques. Tions. Are. We. Clear," Ferguson thundered.

She didn't wait for Jane's answer. One moment Jane was bent, trying not to move as Ferguson slapped her backside, and the next she was jerked into motion.

They arrived at one of the smaller doors set in the wall. Once more she entered a code. When the door opened, Ferguson shoved Jane through and slammed the door shut behind her.


Jane stood there, quaking in her shoes, wondering what was happening.

Was this a trap? Were they going to arrest her as escaped criminal? What was happening? And where was Trish? The road was three yards away. What would happen if she walked over to it and tried to leave?

A large black town car pulled up on the road. It's rear passenger door opened, beckoning her. Jane waited, but no one left the car.

The car's horn honked.

Jane wondered it if was a trap, but she couldn't just stand there. Still fearing it was a trap, she darted to the car. She pulled the door closed after herself, but winced as her bottom made contact with the seat.

Tear welled up in her eyes as her weight rested on her well strapped backside. The car was in motion before she cleared them.

"I thought we had agreed that you wouldn't be coming out here." David Jamison told his younger cousin.

"David?" Jane blurted out.

"Put your seat belt on." David ordered. "We don't want a cop asking why you aren't wearing it, not with your hair looking like that."

"But..."

"I know it hurts to sit, but put the seat belt on." David told her.

Jane buckled her seat belt, trying to make sense of it. She was in the backseat of a luxury car, one with a mini bar, with her cousin, and nothing made sense.

"You look to be in shock." David observed. "How about a brandy to snap you out of it?"

"But, what, I mean, what's..." Jane babbled.

David handed her a glass. Jane downed it, coughing as the warmth spread through her body. It was the first drink she had in close to three weeks and it really hit her.

"David? What are you doing here?" Jane asked.

"The big question is what were you doing there?" David asked. "Didn't we agree that you weren't doing the interview?"

"But, um, that is..."

"That was incredibly stupid of you." David said firmly.

"But... But where did you get this car?"

"I borrowed it." David stated. "I called in a favour to get it. I figured since I was calling in so many favours to get you out what was another one to get us a driver."

"But I was getting out next week and..."

"No Jane, you weren't." David said firmly. "You were due to be released on Monday and you weren't. You were due to be released today and they didn't let you go. You weren't getting out next week either and there was no one else pressing for your release."

"But, I mean, Anton..."

"Anton Gates?" David asked, giving her a nasty laugh. "Anton isn't around at the moment. This morning he was on a 11:55 flight to North Africa."

"He was? Why?"

"Because someone told him that some information was going to come out." David replied. "Information connecting him with women who were released early from the county jail and ended up in a North African brothel."

"What?"

"He ran because it was it true, and someone told him that if he didn't run he'd be the scapegoat." David elaborated. "A scapegoat that was too busy being dead to pull anyone else down. That part wasn't quite as true, but he left too many traces in the county's computer system. It was just a matter of time before someone had to make him disappear."

"What?"

"Can you do anything except say what?" David asked. "Would more brandy help?"

"What? I mean, how do you know what's in the county's system?"

"Because computers are part of my job." David revealed. "But so is making things run smoothly, which is why the information linking Anton to those brothels isn't coming out. It would make too many ripples. You should forget I mentioned it."

"What?"

"Or not forget, but don't tell anyone." David advised.

"But... North Africa?"

"You know a bit of what goes on in that place." David said. "Well sometimes when a girl is released she gets put on a private plane and flown out to North Africa."

"What?"

"Have more brandy." David said, refilling her glass. "Now you didn't see inside every building there, did you? A couple of them are more or less brothels. Money doesn't change hands, not directly, but the inmates there are sex workers."

Jane coughed, half choking on the brandy.

"Good looking inmates get transferred to those building." David told his cousin. "Good looking girls like you. Which is why I pulled in favours to get you out. I hoped that you would make it through the release review, but Anton saw that I was outvoted."

"How?"

"He pointed out how nice you looked, that your body would get better under the diet and exercise program, and that your were a recent grad who could have her feminist leaning strapped out of her." David answered. "My only retort was that you were my little cousin and I wanted you out, now."

"That's the best you could do?" Jane asked. "What about my rights? What about the law? What about..."

"It might have been enough to carry the vote." David countered. "Many people involved understand and support family ties, but then your Trish had her little temper tantrum and Anton pointed out that we couldn't release you without releasing her, and that was it. The vote was close, but you lost it."

"Trish!" Jane exclaimed. "What about her? She's still in there. When are we getting her out?"

"When she passes her release review." David replied.

"But..."

"Do you have any idea what I had to do to get you out?" David demanded. "People told me to drop it after the release review. My girlfriend Vikki said she would break up with me if I didn't. Most people felt you would spend six months or so in there and that it might do you some good, but I didn't give up."

"Why would Vikki want me to stay there?" Jane asked. "What could I have done to her? I barely remember meeting her, if that."

"She didn't want me waste favours in getting you out." David explained. "That and, well it was an excuse. We've been drifting apart for about a year but no one wanted to be the one to end it. She knew I wasn't going to let it go, and that way it would be over and it would be all my fault."

"Oh. Wait, why do you have favours? Who do you work for?" Jane asked.

"I can't tell you who, but I can describe the situation." David answered. "In theory everyone votes and all laws are observed and it's government by the people for the people. In practice, well someone has to cut corners to make things work. Some people at every level of government - federal, state, county, city - do what needs doing to make sure the system stays on track. There are various departments with various mandates, but we do what needs doing."

"How? And can I have more brandy?"

"You can, but not a full glass. I'm not letting you get so drunk that you forget this. How? The same way it's worked since ancient times - the carrot and the stick. We mostly gather information so we can smooth things out behind the scenes. A phone call from us usually offers beneficial insider information while blackmailing the subject to stop making waves. Cooperate and you benefit, refuse and your worse secrets will be exposed. Then there are other things we can offer to get people on side. Luxury items, medical quality drugs, sex, and then there are things like the Carnacki Correctional Institute for Women. It shouldn't surprise you that there are many men, and some women, who enjoy the thought of a place that takes proud young women and treats them like that? Even if they don't visit on Punishment Night, just the thought that this place exists puts a smile on their face."

"But what happens when the girls are released?" Jane asked.

"We talk about rehabilitation, but most of them return to lives of petty crime." David responded. "A few, a very few, might find themselves working as sex workers in the Middle East or North Africa, but the real problem cases get a ticket to South America."

"Wait, are you saying Anton was working for them?"

"He wasn't really working with them." David said. "There are the people who make sure everything works, then there's a wider group that either helps or tags along. Anton was one of the tagalongs, and he was putting things at risk to make a bit of money. No one likes to see something like that happen, but nothing happens until someone really dislikes and takes action. Even then those people usually gets a head's up so they can take themselves out of the game."

"And you're a part of that? You're calling the shots?"

David laughed at that.

"Not really. I'm just a clog in a machine. I help gather and make sense of information and people up the line make the decisions." David assured her. Then he went serious again. "Except in this case. I pulled in favours to be the one that decides you get to leave that place now, even though it's not entirely legal for you to be out."

"What? Why not? I was never sentenced there for real." Jane protested.

"Ah, but you were." David corrected gently. "Not initially, no, but once they extended your sentence you were legally sentenced there."

"But... but there was nothing to extend!"

"That's just a figure of speech." David told her. "What really happened is you received a one week sentence for a minor offence. Actually, you received two sentences, making you a multiple offender. Now that first one could have been challenged in court, because you supposed to have some sort of trial before it could be applied, but the second one was completely legal. Yes, from a legal point of view, you are currently an escaped criminal."

"Um, but..."

"But we're going to take care of that." David assured her. "And eight days from now you'll legally be free."

"But... But what about Trish?" Jane asked.

"I'm sorry, but I only had so many favours to call in." David answered. "I don't go out of my way to collect them. The bulk of them I earn when someone offers me a favour to do what I was already doing."

"But Trish..."

"Trish might be there for another six months." David said bluntly. "Or maybe longer. Or she might be released next week, but I wouldn't bet on that."

"But..."

"Look, there's nothing I can do for her." David insisted. "I even tried asking... asking someone who collects favours if he would help, but he won't. I did all I could."

"But..."

"You have a choice: accept reality as it is, or fight it." David told her. "Now I had to make a promise on your behave. I had to promise that you wouldn't make waves over this."

"But..."

"If you make waves, they'll enter that paperwork in the system and dispatch someone to arrest you. You'll be back in that place, maybe for a year, and I won't be able to help you again. So you have to decide: leave Trish behind or go back and join her."

Jane went silent, but David didn't.

"And you do go back." David continued. "Then Trish will probably get out before you."

Jane's mind was racing.

"We've all made sacrifices here." David said. "I had to give up a woman I once loved and still sort of like."

"Um, I'm sorry about that." Jane said lamely. "Maybe if I talk to her?"

"That isn't possible. Not anymore." David answered.

Jane gasped.

"You killed her? You're a paid killer, aren't you? You work for a secret..."

"How much of that brandy have you had?" David demanded. "No, I didn't kill her. My God, how could you think that?"

"Then... then.... Okay, I give up. Then what?"

"You were legally there." David reminded her. "The head count had to match, which means someone had to take your place. I could have found a minor criminal, but Vikki said that she would undo your release by having your fingerprints entered into the system and then reporting you as an escapee."

"You mean..."

"I mean that Vikki was processed in as you." David said bluntly. "And if that really bothers I could see if I can swap you back in."

"Um, well, no, but..."

"If the swap worked, you'd be Trish's roommate again." David reminded her.

Jane thought about Sweet Trish. About sharing a room with her for another week. Or longer. And then Trish living with her at in that apartment for at least a month. And how Trish said that last strapping was parental and needed alone time immediately after getting it. And how she had offered to swat Jane with the wooden spoon. And how Trish was 'not bi' but acting more like bi every night.

Jane had to wonder if, just if she went back, how long would it be before they clashed?

And it would be such a waste of all David's favours.

Perhaps more importantly, Jane really didn't want to go through another Punishment Night, and she was already scheduled for one.

"Um, no, I mean you put so much work into it, and I don't want..." Jane's voice trailed off. "Trish might not have hated all the spankings, but I did. So maybe it's not so bad for Trish, or for Vikki."

David chuckled.

"We call that kind of thinking 'enlightened self interest'." David stated. "Welcome to a new state of enlightenment."

"Um, thanks. Now what?"

"Now we get your hair fixed." David told her. "I even pulled in a favour for that."

"Um, thanks. Thanks for everything." Jane told him.

"Don't mention it." David told her. "I couldn't leave my little cousin there."


They ended up at someone's house. It was very cloak and dagger, with no one using named. All Jane needed to know was that the woman was a hairstylist with a professional salon in her basement. She even had a present for Jane.

"He gave me a photo, and I was mostly able to match it." The hairstylist told her.

Jane accepted the present, a wig that looked like her normal hair.

"Now let's get that prison do off you. Oh, and do we need to..."

"She was only there two Saturdays." David interjected.

"Then we don't need that."

Jane winced as she sat, which earned a smug smile from the hairstylist.

"I was about to say that someone who doesn't cooperate with a head shaving risks getting a red bottom, but I see that someone has beat me to it."

Jane hoped that the woman was joking, but the hairstylist went on.

"You won't be the first girl to have to bend over that chair for a good paddling, and if it happens I'm sure you won't be the last. Now are you going to stay still without squirming or do I have to give you another reason to squirm?"

"I'll cooperate." Jane answered.

"See that you do."

Jane tried to smile as her hair was cut, clipped, and then her scalp was shaved. Looking in the mirror, Jane couldn't help thinking that she now looked like a cancer victim. But better a cancer victim than an escaped jailbird.

Then the wig went on, and Jane smiled to see that she mostly looked like her regular self.

They left the stylist and David saw her back to her apartment. As they travelled, Jane asked why it mattered that she had only spent two Saturdays there.

"On your third Saturday there they take care of your bush again." David told her. "They sometimes use chemical and some of those chemicals stay in place until they're bathed in a specific solution. Otherwise you stay bare down there for a year or more. I'm not sure what the chemical is, but some people say it feels the same as the red dye does."

"Ouch. Thanks again for getting me out." Jane said.

Then her conscious got the better of her.

"Um, I was scheduled for Punishment Night, and if Vikki's taking my place..."

"Then she'll take your place on Punishment Night." David agreed. "And no, I can't get her out of it anymore than I could get you out of it."

"But..."

"Every inmate finds herself there sooner or later, it's policy or something." David told her. "That's why you ended up there last week. Well, that and Anton putting your name on the list."

"Oh. Um, well, thanks again."


Part 15 - Home Again

Once home, Jane tried to ignore Trish's luggage, but there was so much of it. Checking for messages and mail, Jane tried to focus on her mind on her bills to avoid thinking about Trish. To her dismay, she discovered that she had saved money while in Carnacki. It wasn't just her food, it was all the other little expenses. Cab rides, coffees, drinks with the girls, and everything else she normal spent money on. She still didn't have enough for rent, but she wouldn't have to borrow as much from her parents. Reviewing her expenses, Jane vowed to cut them. She would take the bus, or walk, and avoid spending until she had job.

"Crap, I don't have a story I can use to get a real job! It was all for nothing!" Jane said, the realisation hitting like a ton of bricks.

She couldn't write a story about Carnacki, not without getting her cousin in trouble (and maybe being sent back there) and without Trish she only had a single source story without a recording. Cassandra Ellen Foster had given her some great things on her co-stars, but none of it could be proven. She still didn't have a story to bring an editor.


That night Jane moved mirrors in her apartments, positioning them with a purpose in mind. She had her usual sex toys, but she also had a wooden spoon. Taking the position that Trish had urged her to try, Jane blushed at how open and exposed she was. She had seen that inmate modelling it in health class, but looking at her reflection made her grateful that they had never tried that position with the lights on. Seeing herself that way made Jane feel vulnerable and exposed. Even alone she felt more naked than nude.

As she worked her favourite vibrator, Jane gave herself a few taps with the wooden spoon, thinking of Trish as she did. Poor Sweet Trish, who was still trapped in that place and was facing another Punishment Night, something that was far beyond Trish's tame fantasies of naughty girl spankings. Jane knew that there was nothing she could do for Trish, but also knew that her friend was probably in the same position frigging herself like the a pro.

Jane stayed close to her apartment for the next week, just in case. Once she was no longer an escaped criminal she breathed a sigh of relief, and one of regret. She had hoped that Trish would show up at the end of that week, but Saturday came and went without Trish showing up to claim her luggage. A few days later, Jane called her cousin. She forced herself not to ask about Trish, just what to do with Trish's stuff. David didn't mention Trish at all, but he arranged for storage someplace other than Jane's apartment.

Jane hated to lie to prospective employers, but to get her foot in the door she borrowed Trish's idea. She let her wig slip in front of a couple women editors and when they asked she let them know that she had shaved her head in sympathy for a friend with breast cancer. That got her a couple of badly needed assignments, which led to a bit more work. Nothing big, nothing that could get her a byline or a real job, but it paid some of her bills. Most of it was just fact checking other reporter's articles, but it was something.

Trish's roommates tried to track down Trish (and her share of the rent) through Jane, but Jane was able to lie to them with a straight face.


Part 16 - An Unexpected Turn

A Monday in mid October found Jane still struggling as she pounded on doors looking for real work. Her hair was grown back enough to style, and she wasn't going to shave again just for pity jobs that went nowhere. While walking towards a potential interview, she heard her name being called.

"It is you! What have you done with your hair?"

"Hi Uncle Darren." Jane said, wishing that she hadn't run into him.

She'd been avoiding her family since she got out, not really out of shame, but she didn't want them to see her hair and ask her about it. She had never been good to lying to family and still hadn't invented a good story to cover it. Her parents thought she was avoiding them because she felt bad about borrowing money, and they thought it was cute.

But she had been avoiding this side of her family even more than the others. Her Uncle Darren was David's father, and she had no idea what (if anything) he knew.

"Well, I thought it was time for a change, but that didn't work and I had to take off more than I wanted to, but I like it." Jane told him.

"It looks good on you." Darren told her. "We missed you at Labour Day."

"Well, I was busy." Jane said, only half lying. "Everyone wanted the weekend off so I was able to pick up some work."

"That's right, you graduated last spring." Darren smiled. "Where are you working now?"

"Um, well I'm kind of acting as a stringer for ..."

"You should have said something." Darren said. "I know everyone. I'm sure a have a friend of a friend who can do something about regular freelance work or maybe even an entry level job. Of course after that, well I can't make you successful at your work, but I can help you get your foot in the door."

"Really? I am, I thought you only knew people in government." Jane said.

"I know all sorts of people, but you'd have to do something for me." Darren told her. "Oh, don't pull a face. It's nothing unpleasant. Your aunt is out of town and I don't want to go stag to a get together this Wednesday. I hate to go alone to these things, but there's no way I could hire an escort without it looking as if I was, well, hiring an escort. And don't worry, I don't expect you to have something in your wardrobe that will mesh with the group. Send my assistant your sizes and I'll have an outfit sent over. Something you can kept for formal occasions."

"Um, but..."

"And send her your resume too." Darren told. "I don't want you wasting your degree."

"Um, okay."

Her uncle gave her his card, writing instructions on its back, and sent her on her way.


Two days, Jane was opening garment bags. Whatever you said about her uncle, he had taste and the means to express it. That or his assistant had taste. Either way, she now had a lovely black number with a respectable hemline and modest slit up the side, complete with matching underwear, shoes, purse, and the rest. The bra was even a shaping one, helping her in filling out her bust line.

Examining herself in the mirror, Jane thought she presented an elegant sight. The only thing that didn't reek of class was her hairstyle. Thinking about how it had gotten that way, Jane sighed at the memory of the still missing Trish. She couldn't help feeling pangs of guilt for her role in Trish's disappearance, and the fact that she dared not do anything to help her imprisoned friend.

Forcing a smile on her face, Jane told herself that this was a night for fun, not dwelling on how Trish couldn't talk her way out of the place.


As expected, her Uncle Darren picked her up in a limo. As the man always said, image was everything, and he always travelled in style. Not that he was rich, no, he was comfortable but he had always made it clear that his children would have to earn their own way. Style was one thing, but trust funds were out of the question and far out of his price range.

Darren greeted her with a smile, and they kept the smalltalk going on the drive. Jane assumed that they were going to Darren's country club, but they went past that turn off without slowing. Jane glanced out of the window when they did slow down, and she recognised the turnoff.

She stopped mid breath when she saw the exit number.

"Um, Uncle Darren, where did you say this party was?" Jane asked, seeking reassurance.

"I didn't." Darren said.

"Um, I didn't know that there were a lot places out this way." Jane muttered.

"There aren't." Darren said. "Personally I think that David rushed things, that a summer there might have done you good, but he's still conflicted over Heather."

Jane blinked, trying to make sense of his words. She had assumed that her uncle didn't know about last summer's misfortunes, but now he seemed that he did, and what did her Cousin Heather have to do with anything? Her cousin was married, had just had her second child, and none of this made any sense. Her head was swimming and she need to make sense of what was happening.

"Heather?" Jane asked.

"Yes, Heather. It's a long story, but it's a long drive." Darren began. "I blame child literacy for it. You see Heather fell in love with a series of books about babysitters. Of course she couldn't sit for any of our neighbours, they all had maids and most had nannies or au pairs, but she really wanted to babysit. Since she was more than three years older than David that seemed an option, so when she was 14 we ended up letting her sit for him. Of course the maids were still there but Heather was officially in charge. And that was the mistake."

"It was?" Jane asked, still not sure where things were going.

"You see Heather needed to prove she was in charge, so she spanked him." Darren confided. "More than once. She spanked him in front of her friends so they would know she was in charge and she spanked him in front of his friends for the same reason. But with the maids still there, but carefully staying in distant room, we thought David was over stating things. That she was just giving him a swat or two. That wasn't it, but who would have thought that she would actually spank him with the maids in the house? At least twice, once in front of her friends and once in front of his, she even pulled down his pant so they could how red she was spanking him. As you can imagine, that drove a wedge between them."

"Well, yes, I guess it would. Um, but what..."

"But what does this have to do with now?" Darren laughed. "I told you this was long story, but I'll flash forward. Now do you remember that Christmas Heather had short hair?"

"Sure. She spent that summer hitchhiking in East Europe and she had to cut it after something to do with lice and..."

Jane halted mid sentence. Heather's hair then hadn't been that much longer than hers was now. Heather would have had to have shaved it around Labour Day. If she had shaved it at Labour Day that would have been around the time she got back from Europe, but why would she shave then if she no longer had to worry about getting lice in former communist countries? Unless she wasn't worried about lice at all.

Jane's thoughts went back to the last time she had encountered people who said they were worried about lice, then why her own hair was so short.

"Heather didn't spend that summer in Europe, did she?" Jane asked.

"Clever girl." Darren laughed. "No, she got into a little trouble just after finishing her third year, and she spent that summer at certain institute for women. I could have done something, but I didn't. I thought it was time for her to learn that I couldn't fix every problem in her life. Somehow David found out about it, and he thought it was karma kicking back. At least at first, but then he found out more about what happened there, that their strappings often left bruises. Anyway, after that happened they talked and worked out most of their issue, but I think that David feels guilty that he was happy that Heather spent her summer there. That's why he raced to your rescue."

"Did, um, you know, um..."

"Did I know that you were there? How could I not?"

A look of horror spread over Jane's face.

"Oh, don't be like that." Darren scolded. "I didn't have anything to do with it. You put yourself in there, all I did was not move Heaven and Earth to get you out."

"Um, but..."

"Don't worry, I wasn't going to let you rot there." Darren snapped. "Maybe you would have stayed for the rest of the summer, just so you could learn a lesson, and they would have probably let you out by Labour Day. If not, you would have been home by Thanksgiving. Christmas at the latest, even if I had to intervene, and if that had happened I would have done a much better job of it than David did."

Jane didn't know what to say.

"Now is when the long story starts to get a bit weirder." Darren told her.

"Weird? Now?" Jane asked with a slightly hysterical laugh.

"Now what do you know about the MAFIA? Nothing except movies, right? Well the MAFIA has an expression called 'making your bones'." Darren said. "They don't trust a man until he does a contract killing because once he does that he can't go to the cops without being sentence for a cold blooded killing. He has to do the worse sort of crime to guarantee that he can never testify against the others. Does that make sense to you?"

"I guess." Jane said.

"A gangster can't tell the police about a loan shark if he's murdered some one can he?" Darren smiled. "Well if a woman goes as a spectator goes to something called Punishment Night and enjoys herself there, then she can't go to the cops and complain that she was once part of the other side of Punishment Night, can she?"

"I... I guess not." Jane said slowly.

"And that's where we're going." Darren told her. "Some people thought you should have gone earlier, especially with you being a journalist, but I thought you needed a chance to let your hair grow back. Adjust to life on the outside and such. After tonight there is absolutely no way you'll be able to do any kind of story on the Carnacki."

"Oh. Oh. Ah, what's happening tonight?"

"It's Punishment Night." Darren reminded her. "We are attending it. There's some wine and cheese served on arrival, then we take seats in the auditorium. The inmates are brought out, and you know what happens to them."

"Yes, I guess I do."

"As for what role you shall play, during what is know as halftime you will approach one of the inmates and finger her a bit." Darren continued. "She doesn't have to enjoy it, but you do, or at look as if you do. You don't have a problem with that, do you?"

"Um, well, I'm not sure." Jane admitted. "Ah, I've never done anything like that with another..."

"What? You went to collage and were inside a woman's prison and you've only touched your own pussy?" Darren asked in mock shock. "Has every exploitation movie I've ever seen been a lie? Is Shaft not actually a mean motherfucker? Well, no matter, you can learn when you get there."

"I can?"

"You should." Darren said with a smile. "Did you mix much with the other inmates? No? Then you might not know that the quad rooms are often rented by the week or weekend."

"Rented?"

"Sometimes a woman wants to know what it would be like to be an inmate, and when she is there she is treated the same as any other inmate." Darren explained. "Except for the exit interview. They leave on schedule, usually."

"Usually?" Jane eeped.

"Sometimes something happens and they get a week added on to their sentence." Darren explained. "But other than that they attend the same classes and takes the same risks, including Punishment Night. Some enjoy flirting with danger, so much so I've heard that a few women have spent at least one weekend a month there for years and never earned a real strapping. Of course they use wigs so they appear to have the standard hairdo, or wear wigs when away from that place."

"Then there are the other cases." Darren continued. "A man with connections can arranged for a female friend to spend some time there. Sometimes as part of a game and other times as something else. Some even send out of control daughters or nieces there, not that I ever did so. Heather earned her own way there and you're my only niece who even knows that this place exists. But I could have. I could easily take someone there tonight and not see her again until Monday. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"I hope I don't." Jane said quietly.

"Then you do understand." Darren said with a smile. "When we get there I am sure, quite sure, that you will made the decision that is right for you."

"Oh." Jane muttered. "Um, couldn't we turn around? You could drop me off home."

"No, I can't do that." Darren told her. "It's time to make your bones, metaphorically speaking. Otherwise, well you are a reporter, aren't you? And speaking about that, I've lined up a job interview for you."

"You have?"

"It's at a minor organisation, one focused on exposing corruption and human rights abuses. I'm sure you'll fit right in."

"But, but David..." Jane began, trying to find the words. "He works for, um..."

"But David is basically a boy scout." Darren told her. "He does his job without injecting personal ambition in it, that's why everyone likes him so much. He's not malicious; he just wants to see the world working as it should. For the trains to run on time. Nor does he work for villains. Most of the people in that, call it a 'firm', most people in that firm are like David, convinced that if they weren't doing what they do then the entire world would go up in flames. Just between us, I'm not sure if they aren't right."

"But if I'm exposing government corruption and..."

"Oh, don't worry, David isn't corrupt." Darren grinned.

"I mean..."

"I know what you mean, but don't have to worry. Those people are very good at what they do; they rarely leave traces that anyone notices." Darren told her. "To be honest, I'm not sure if David could prove that they exist, and he traces more of their activities than most other people working for them. Don't worry, if no news network in the country has found anything to report on, what makes you think that a reporter just out of college can? Now put a good nice smile on, we're here."


Part 17 - Making Her Bones

Jane couldn't believe it was real. She was entering the Carnacki Correctional Institute for Women on her uncle's arm, dressed for a night on the town, and about to watch Punishment Night. There were inmates circulating with trays of drinks and finger food, walking through the small, well dress crowd. This summer she had worn one of those uniforms, now she would be sitting in the seats to watch Punishment Night.

Where her friend Trish might be stretched over a frame, waiting for the strap.

Jane downed three glasses of wine before they made their way to the auditorium. Her uncle directed her to their seats. He had an aisle seat and her the one next to it. Jane barely noted the seating; she was too distracted by the amount of flesh shown in the seats. Some of the men had their cocks out, some of the women were practically stripping of, and it wasn't all masturbation happening. More than one couple was cuddling, or more.

Seeing the couples getting X rated, Jane couldn't think of anything except how she was here with her uncle.

"Um, can I ask, um, me, you, er..." Jane began.

"No Jane, you're not here to do anything with me." Darren said firmly. "I shouldn't have to mention that, but after you gulped all that wine down you might not be thinking clearly. Good God, I used to see your diaper changed and even bathed you a few times; I could never think that way about you. Normally I do, shall we say 'have interactions' here, but I can restrain myself for a night."

There were two empty seats beside them, but there was couple on the other side of that gap. The girl was either in her late teens or very early twenties while the man was probably in his early 20s. Needing a distraction, Jane let herself focus on the couple, not long enough to be rude but long enough to get a handle on them.

The man gave off a frat boy vibe, or maybe it was a trust fund kid feel. Either way, he came off as one of the type of frat boys that Jane had avoided on campus. Not all frats were bad, but some were the type to slip something in a girl's drink or simple not take no for an answer. The nicest members of those problem frats were the boys who thought that a girl should be grateful that he deigned to date her, and put out exactly the way he wanted. Beyond that, he was wearing an expensive silk suit and tie, proving that he had money if not manners.

As for the girl, her clothes were expensive, but tawdry. The sort of thing you wore to a club if you wanted to fuck some random stranger and out of place at this gathering. She had her boobs out and it was clear that she had applied makeup to her nipples, something that Jane viewed as porn start activity.

The couple wasn't loud, they were whispering and giggling softly to themselves, but from what little she heard they didn't sound like a match. The guy was using the clipped tones that Jane associate with coming from money while the girl sounded as common as a reality TV star.

The lights changed and the crowd quieted down.

Jane winced as she saw the line of inmates being escorted in. She had been in their number less than three months ago. Her eyes searched for Trish, but it was no use - the inmates all liked alike to her. Same clothes, same hairstyle, same hair colour; they all blended together in her eyes. The faces were different, but Jane had problems searching for her friend's face, for if Trish were there then Jane would need to do something. She wasn't sure what she could do to help Sweet Trish, but at the very least she would talk to her friend.

It became clear that not every frame would be filled. The two on the far left were empty, as were a few scattered down the line. Thinking back, Jane didn't think that her group of inmates had filled the display, and she wondered who decided on the numbers.

The woman began removing their skirts. From this end, the assembly line of COs looked professional and efficient. The COs processed the inmates without wasting a single movement. Jane bit back a gasp as the inmates had their panties lowered, but she could nothing for her blush as she looked down on them on those frames. The inmates looked worse than she had pictured! Their pussies were practically open and even their assholes were exposed! As she looked at these women, Jane couldn't help picturing herself when she was in that position. She thought she could see more intimate details than she had when she looked at herself in the diaper position.

One strap whacked down on an inmate, another impacted with splat, and then the straps were falling in earnest. Jane winced at the memory of those impacts, but the couple next to her was snickering as they traded acidic comments about the scene in front of them. Jane didn't know what was worse, the obscene sight of those backsides wiggling as they were strapped, or that couple's reaction to it.

The straps didn't all stop at once, but eventuality they were all stilled. Darren elbowed his niece, whispering that it was all arranged for her to visit the fourth girl from the left.

"You don't have to slide your entire hand in, but inmate has to react to your hand in her. If not..."

The way his voice trailed off scared Jane more than anything he could say. If he had threatened a specific doom then Jane could feel like as martyr as she risked it. If the doom had been extreme, then she could assume that it wouldn't happen and if it was a minor fate then Jane might even risk it, but an unknown doom? That was untenable.

Making her way to the designated victim, Jane saw that others were making their way to other frames. There was no confusion about who was going to which frame; some inmates were left alone, but everyone walking to an inmate was doing so with a purpose.

Jane walked behind he designated inmate and paused. It hadn't been that long ago that it was her backside secured there with Anton reaching into her. As Jane paused, a young woman walked to the frame to the left of her; the last occupied frame before the two empty ones. That woman patted her inmate's thighs, saying:

"Look sis, no one wants to see you like. Just sign the papers already. The moment you sign away your share of the trust fund I'll see about getting you out of here."

Jane bit back her gasp. Suddenly fingering a strange woman was better than listening to the treachery that was happening beside her. Jane couldn't imagine sending her own sister to this place and didn't want her reaction to mark her as someone who couldn't be trusted, so she shoved a finger into a stranger's pussy. The woman jerked as much as she could, howling into her gag, and for Jane, she wished she had had more to drink.

It felt different. She'd had her finger in her our pussy more times than she could count, but she always felt feedback when she did that. Feeling a pussy and not feeling that finger inside her, it was odd and different.

Belatedly Jane began to wiggle it, not that anyone watching could notice if it was wiggling or not. Only the two of them knew it was moving, but the inmate's groans might reveal that to others. Embolden, Jane inserted another finger, then another, and began to rub the woman's well strapped backside. All the while the woman beside her rubbed and patted her own sister's flanks, urging the girl to sign away her inheritance.

Glancing away from the treacherous sister, Jane saw the woman on the other side had her tongue buried in her inmate, and beyond her was a man ass fucking an inmate. Jane glanced back to her inmate, telling herself that she was almost being kind as she was only using her hands. As for who was being cruel, of all the things she saw Jane thought that the inmate being taunted by her sister had the worse of it. The other inmates were only having their bodies used, but the imprisoned heiress was being assaulted by her own sister's words.

Jane wasn't sure how her fingers felt in that woman's pussy, but the nameless inmate became vocal. As the woman trembled and moaned into her gag, Jane decided that she must have cum.

Withdrawing her hand, Jane was left with a predicament: her hand was coated with another's woman's pussy juice and Jane didn't know what to do with it.

Hoping that her uncle could get her a napkin, or tell her where she could wash her hand, Jane retreated to her seat. All the while that girl next to her was making well reasons arguments to her sister.

Darren rose so that his niece could return to her seat. As she moved in front of him, Jane saw something was happening on the stage. A pair of COs were advancing on the girl who was talking to her sister. As Jane sat, they were on the girl. One had a gag in the girl's mouth while the other bound the stunned girl's arms. Within moments her slacks were lowered, her thong panties tossed aside, and the girl was being fastened to the empty frame beside her sister.

Nor was that the only frame now being filled. A girl was marched down from the audience. She looked nervous, but was trying to act brave as she slipped off her shoes and removed her dress, revealing that she wore nothing under it. The COs were there to fasten her naked body to the frame. Staring at her, Jane didn't notice how a third frame was filled, but when she looked there was third unmarked backside staring up at her.

"Scuse me honey, mind if I ask you something?"

Jane turned to the girl who was sitting two seats away from her.

"Hi, I'm Sandy and this Hal, Hal Taylor; you might have heard of his family." Sandy said. "Any who, this is our first time coming here, but you must know what's going on. How do you get to tickle one of the sluts?"

Jane was at a lost for words, but Darren spoke up.

"Those arrangements are always made in advance."

"Gee, a lot of help that does us now." Sandy replied.

"Maybe you can think of something?" Hal muttered.

Sandy smiled, and focused on Jane.

"Honey, can I see the hand you used? Please?"

"Um, sure." Jane said, not sure if this was the right thing to do.

She held out her hand and Sandy shifted closer.

Taking Jane by surprise, she began licking and sucking at Jane's fingers.

"That's hot." Hal said, stroking his dick. "You sucking a girl's juices off a different girl."

"Slurp for years." Sandy muttered as she sucked and licked. "Not ahhh eating a girl but slurp nice and nasty."

Jane froze, not sure what to do. Her uncle didn't say anything and there was a lot more than finger sucking going on in the audience, but it felt weird, doing this with another girl. It wasn't sex, but it was sexual, and it was a girl doing it. And what did she mean that she had been doing it for years? Whose hands had she been sucking? Why? How long?

The strappings began again, and Sandy stopped sucking. The girl moved back to her boyfriend as they focused on Punishment Night. Darren reached into his suit jacket's inside left pocket and produced a one use handiwipe. Smiling in thanks, Jane ripped open the package and used the wipe to clean her hand.

Staring at the scene before her, Jane tried to see if the newcomers to the frames were getting less than the inmates. If they were it wasn't a noticeably difference; the newcomers backsides were soon painted as red as the original inmates. Soon Jane could only tell who was who by remembering which frames had been empty.

Once more Jane was blushing, remembering how it had recently been her down there. Sandy reacted differently. She climbed on Hal's lap, facing the frames as she rode him hard. Hal's hands were over her boobs, and Sandy made a point of moaning loudly.


Part 18 - Taking Her Leave

Finally the strapping was over. The COs undid the restraints and cleared the frames. A sound system came alive, informing patrons that the next group would be dealt with in 15 minutes.

"Hey!" Sandy exclaimed. "That's fucked! Why are those women going out with the prison sluts? No judge sent them here."

She didn't address comment to anyone, but Darren answered.

"They don't have to be sentenced." Darren revealed in a dry tone. "The Carnacki Correctional Institute for Women takes in paying guests. I would hazard a guest they have paid to stay here through Friday, giving them a chance to recover from this night. I wouldn't be surprised if some of them stayed longer, remaining for weekend."

"Fuck that's awesome!' Sandy gushed. "They paid for that themselves? The sluts!"

"They, or someone else." Darren observed.

"Who would do that?" Sandy asked.

"A friend perhaps?" Darren suggested. "I know one of them couldn't pay her own way. I recognised the one on the far left; she won't get her trust fund until she's 25. Until then she's on an allowance. A nice one, but not enough for this place."

Jane knew who he was talking about, and wondered who was paying for those two sisters to be here. She doubted that either girl would be leaving soon.

"Allowance? At her age?" Sandy said in shock. "Shit, I haven't needed one of those for years! Not since I started getting boys to buy me stuff. Not that I ever whored, but guys have bought me stuff since my tits sprouted."

"You never asked for things in exchange for things?" Darren asked dryly.

"No, well, not really." Sandy said. "The nearest I came was getting cash from one of my daddy's friends. But that wasn't sex, that was me not telling daddy his old buddy was spanking me."

Hal looked at his companion with new eyes.

"You took money from a family friend to let him spank you?" Hal asked in neutral tone. "I know my aunt calls you a trailer trash whore, but I never thought..."

"It wasn't like that honey." Sandy said, snuggling up to him. "He only spanked, and he didn't even do it bare, and I earned that cash. Them girls had it easy; none of them sluts got the buckle end of the belt."

"How old were you?" Hal asked. "No, make that how young were you?"

"Young enough to earn a belting, but old enough to take the cash." Sandy replied.

Turning back to Darren, Sandy asked:

"Can you stay here without getting smacked down there?"

Jane found herself answering.

"Yes, but they treat you like an inmate when you arrive." Jane told the girl. "You have to shower, get your hair done, and put on a uniform like you were sentenced here."

"She's right." Darren nodded.

"Wait, I could be in here surrounded by all those sluts?" Sandy asked. "Hal, you getting hot thinking bout that?"

"If you want to stay here then I'm sure I can arrange it." Hal said slowly. "I'm sure I can get my aunt to sign off on an advance from my trust fund."

"Didn't she just say no?" Sandy asked.

"She said no to a trip to Tijuana." Hal replied. "After you said something about the quality coke, E, and H we could get there. But was about the drugs, and there's no drugs here."

"Freaky! Would I get to spank the sluts?" Sandy asked.

Darren spoke up.

"I'm sure your stay would involves sluts and spankings." Darren chimed in. "Maybe only one of each, but it would happened."

"Fucking awesome!" Sandy said. "Can I stay? Just for the night?"

"Well we must be going." Darren announced, but didn't rise. "We only arranged for one show."

"We should go too." Sandy declared. "And talk to someone about me smacking some sluts."

Hal rose, a bittersweet smile on his face.

"If that is what you want." Hal said. "After what you've said tonight I'm sure I can bring myself to sign you in tonight."

"Yeah, I said I wanted in. Scuse us honey."

Sandy didn't want to wait until Jane had left. She walked with her back to Jane, and as she did so Jane saw a large wet spot on the back of Sandy's skirt. The girl had to know it was there, that it was visible, and that it would become a permanent stain, but Sandy didn't seem to care.

"I'm sure you'll look great as a redhead." Hal said as he followed her out.

Darren rose when the pair was several feet up the aisle, and Jane mirrored him.

"Do you think she'll be here for a day?" Jane asked in a low voice.

Darren chuckled.

"A day is just the start. She's obviously a gold digger." Darren murmured in return. "It's just as clear that Hal is getting a bit tired of her. They have nothing but sex in common, and I doubt he enjoys the idea that she used charge grown men to spank her. He was probably on his way to dropping in the next few weeks, maybe buying her a 'go quietly' gift. But his aunt suggested they come here, Sandy wants to have an adventure, and perhaps most importantly she freaked her date out by talking about her early sexual activity, so here she'll stay. Maybe his aunt had this in mind when she suggested they come here, maybe she didn't, but that is what is happening "

Jane held back her response because they we no longer alone; as often happened when entering or leaving a theatre, a clump had developed in the aisle as friends stopped to say hello to each other. Jane didn't know anyone there, but her uncle always loved working a room. Darren made sure to introduce Jane as they halted and when someone new joined the clump, always using the same wording - "Jane Higgins, my niece the reporter". Annoyingly enough, each and everyone in the clump remarked on seeing Jane bringing of the inmate. Several mentioned in the form of a compliment, others in passing, but each of her uncle's friends mentioned it. At first Jane wondered if they were teasing her, but that didn't feel right. She wasn't getting that vibe, and why would they tease her when everyone was here to watch Punishment Night?

Then it hit her. Each and every person was really saying:

"I saw you here tonight and watched you finger that girl. If you cause us trouble I'd be able to testify to that. You're one of us now and we're all in it together."

They all knew Jane's background and they were united in welcoming her to their number - politely telling her to like it or else. It was the most polite blackmail threat Jane had ever heard, but she was sure they were all deadly serious in what they were saying. Especially after one grey haired gentleman winked as he expressed his regret that he had missed the last Punishment Night in July.

That gentleman, who conveniently forgot to mention his name, trailed after Jane and her uncle as they broke away from the clump. He was unfailingly polite as he mentioned that he owned a wide selection of Carnacki uniforms, and if she should ever want to wear one again he was sure he had one that would fit her. Perhaps she would enjoy wearing it at his country place? A country place that had begun life as a farmhouse and thus had no neighbours for miles in every direction. They could agree in advance how long she would stay, or leave things to chance.

Jane politely demurred. The gentleman merely smiled and told her that the offer stood.

When they finally reached the reception area Jane noticed a small clump talking with the staff. There was Hal Taylor and Sandy, a girl hanging on the arm of a man who was at least twice (and maybe three times) her age, and a college age girl standing alone.

"Hey you." Sandy called over to them. "We're looking at booking a quad. Want to share the quadruple occupancy rate? It's all inclusive."

Jane's heart raced as her uncle escorted her to the group, but discovered they were going over simply so Darren didn't have to shout. As he politely turned down the offer on her behalf, the singleton spoke up.

"It's no biggie. I've decided that this is my twentieth birthday present to myself. I'm sure my parents will give me enough for a double share of the room. It can't be that much; it's just for a few days."

"I'm sure they will." Darren agreed. "Why, I wouldn't be surprised if they were willing to fund your stay for a week or two."

The older man escorting the younger woman snorted at that, but his date didn't get the humour. The staff member merely smiled and agreed that something could be worked out. Jane wanted to speak up, to warn the girl that her stay might not be a short one, but she didn't dare. Not while at the Carnacki institute. Not after seeing that girl stripped and positioned next to her sister.


Darren excused them from the group. Jane discovered that his car was waiting for them at the door. Within in minutes they were beyond the wall, driving away towards freedom.

"Congratulations my dear." Darren said. "You seem to have made the correct choice for you."

"Um, thanks. Do you mind if I have a drink?" Jane said, nodding towards the limo's small bar.

"Oh where are my manners? We have scotch, bourbon, Jack Daniel's, and apple and cherry brandies."

"Cherry brandy." Jane answered.

Sipping her brandy, Jane had to ask some of the questions that were running around her head. She knew that she might not like the answers, but she had to ask the questions.

"That gentleman. The one who invited me to his country place. Am I right in assuming I won't be able to sit afterwards if I go?"

"You would indeed be correct." Darren said as he sipped his single malt. "But you might want to consider it. He is a very influential, and wealthy, man and we wouldn't be talking about any long term effects. Oh, you'd have a very sore bottom and he prefers not to use condoms, but you might find yourself enjoying your visit. Think of it as being at the institute without the hypocrisy of them pretending to reform you. Just open D&B play with the limits, or at least the guidelines, agreed to in advance."

"No thanks." Jane answered. "I'm not into that."

"Not at all?" Darren questioned. "Are you aware the single most erogenous zone in the human body is the brain? Which is one of the reasons we don't find ourselves sexually attracted to close relatives."

"Sure, I understand that." Jane nodded.

"Then perhaps you explain why, when you were in such adverse conditions, suffering both shame and pain, two things you avow to not be into, someone was able to make you orgasm in minutes using only his hands?" Darren said. "Your body has certain responses that would explain that reaction from regular sex, or a vibrator, but mere manual manipulation? And so quickly? Most woman seeing to their own needs would take longer than that, and despite his claims Anton was not God's gift to woman."

Jane looked away as her face went red.

"No, you don't have to explain that to me." Darren said. "But you should know yourself, and that gentleman is an expert at helping girls your age discover those answers."

Jane didn't want to continue the discussion. The very idea of talking to her uncle about her sex life had too high an ick factor to continue. She decided to risk another question.

"You keep saying I made the decision that I really wanted to make." Jane began.

"Those aren't my exact words, but close enough." Darren agreed.

"What was my other choice, no, I know what I could have chosen." Jane said, interrupting herself. "What would have happened if I had chosen differently?"

Darren sipped his drink before he answered. Jane had taken several classes on giving interviews; if she didn't know better she would say her uncle was stalling.

"Do you remember how Heather took a semester off?" Darren asked her.

"Sure, that was..." Jane's throat went dry. She needed to take another drink before she went on. "That was winter after she told people she had been backpacking in Eastern Europe."

"Yes it was." Darren nodded. "You know how she didn't go to Europe? Well she wasn't ready to make her bones as it were, at the New Years Day party. She spent most of January in a uniform, but when she went back at Spring Break she made the right decision."

"Oh."

"You should be happy that she had that second stay." Darren noted. "David didn't really know where his older sister was in the summer, but he knew that winter and there was nothing he could do about."

"Couldn't you..."

"Me?" Darren laughed. "I have accepted that while I can open doors, it's up for my children to decide if and how they go through those doors. It wasn't always that way, but they are now adults and that means they make their own decisions. Oh, I might have made waves and gotten Heather out earlier, but she needed that extra time to appreciate the choice she had to make. And she had to make it; if she hadn't, well if she hadn't then she would have had to do something else to ensure that she couldn't testify. There are various scenarios that can work, but almost all of them can lead to long prison terms. No, making your bones is the easiest way to go. Now any other questions?"

"Um, those girls, Sandy and the others, will they be leaving a couple of days?" Jane asked.

"Of course not." Darren chuckled. "Oh, normally that girl would have some say in when she left, but since her parents are paying it's up to them. I suspect she'll be lucky, and grateful, if she makes it home for Thanksgiving. As for the other young lady, her escort would never book her in for less than a month, regardless of what he tells you. Most likely she'll be out for Christmas, and ready to give him a wonderful Christmas present to thank him for getting her out."

"And Sandy?"

"The trailer trash whore? Her fate rests in the hands of Hal's aunt. Hal knows enough about that place not to admit Sandy if he's not prepared for her to stay awhile. In fact, I do believe he is in the process of splitting up with her."

"Are we talking three months?" Jane pressed.

Darren shrugged.

"I would not be surprised, not surprised at all, if this time next year Sandy was working at North African brothel." Darren admitted. "Or in an Arab's harem. Not be cruel, but does her fate really matter? If she wasn't there she would mostly likely be in jail, or ODing on drugs, or living on welfare as her looks give out. Going overseas might be the best thing for Sandy. She's been trading sex for favours since she was too young to do it; that's the only life she knows. This way she'll end up somewhere she is considered exotic."

"Yeah, but..."

"Then there's the other benefits." Darren continued. "We have various allies, both governmental and non-governmental, who enjoy seeing a girl like Sandy arrive in their area. Why, if David is to be believed, in 1976 a planeload of wannabe models from the mid west landed at a private airport in the Middle East. Those were girls who had flocked to LA, New York, and Chicago, who normally would have ended up being chewed up the local pimps, whose fates meant nothing in the big picture, but they changed history when they arrived where they did."

"Oh. Ah. Er." Jane stammered, looking for words.

"But enough about negative things, let's talk about that new job of yours." Darren said. "The one with the crusading media outlet. Now the job pays 40 grand to start with, which isn't much, but it will lead to better things. If you put your heart into it then you can expect to hit 60 to 80 inside of three years. I'd say that you should hit six figures, and not necessarily low six figures, within five years."

"What?" Jane asked in surprise. "But you said entry level. Entry level is formally interning rather than being a stringer. Forty thousand? Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure." Darren smiled. "I pulled in a favour, and favours make the world go round. Now there is a change, a very low chance now but it might grow over the years, a chance that someone will ask you for a favour. Nothing big, nothing criminal, just, well, let's say a source comes to you and tells you that they do awful things at the Carnacki Correctional Institute for Women. You might be asked to decide that the source isn't a credible one."

"But, but that goes everything journalism stands for!" Jane protested.

"Does it?" Darren asked. "Hypothetical, if you hadn't been there, if that source had come to you on June 10th, and described the health classes, exercise routine, custom diets, and Punishment Nights, would you have believed that source? "

"Um, well..."

"Point of fact, aren't you now a source yourself?" Darren pressed. "Now I understand why you are keeping quiet, but if you decide to go to an editor and tell what you know, do you think he'd believe you? Or would he think you had suffered a breakdown and were now delusional or a conspiracy nut? If you were the editor would you believe you?"

"But... But the public has a right to know." Jane protested, at the edge of tears as she realised she might have to reject the job her uncle was offering.

"Of course the public has a right to know." Darren agreed.

Jane hadn't been expecting that response.

"But, no wait, you said..."

"There is only so much that can be told." Darren pointed out. "Our local paper lists local births, but you know how many people are born each day? Or die? If you just read aloud the names of the parents and time of birth along with the names of people who died you wouldn't have time to finish today's births and deaths before you needed to start on tomorrow's list. And then there's crime: something happens to a photogenic white kid and it's a national news story, but how many black males died violently every day?"

"Yes, I know, I've taken courses in bias of coverage."

"And that's all we're talking about." Darren assured her. "You'd still be reporting a full day's worth of news, but maybe you don't fight to get a certain story into the news. Or let it be buried in some obscure section. Or you act like a responsible journalist and demand multiple credible sources before you report a certain story. That's all."

"Um, I'll have to think about." Jane said weakly.

"You do that." Darren advised. "You're likely to have months, if not years, before someone asks you to do something. Or it could happen soon if you take a certain gentleman up on his offer. A week wearing that uniform would do more for your career that you can possible imagine."

"What would happen if someone asks me to do something if I don't do it?" Jane asked, shifting the subject from that intriguing offer.

"Probably nothing." Darren admitted. "Or your story could be disproven, leaving you with egg on your face. Maybe enough egg to cost you your job. Worse case? Heather might not be my only relative to be held in that place a second time."

"Um, but..."

"Just think about it. That's all I ask." Darren said. "Speaking of Heather, have you seen pictures of the new baby?"

"Just the hospital ones."

"Well have a look at these." Darren said, switching into proud grandpa mode.

Jane could barely believe it. She was leaving a private prison where girls where beaten, where a good friend was still trapped; had been invited to spend time with an old perv and her uncle thought she should, for business reasons; and she was being offered the carrot of a dream job while being threatened with the stick of prison. All of that and what was she doing? Looking at pictures of her cousin's new baby.

That was when things snapped into place. Jane had been thinking of the Carnacki Correctional Institute for Women as an abomination, of her Cousin David's job as a abhorrent stain on the government, of that offer as a sick idea from a person who lived beyond the fringe of what was accepted - but what if they were all as normal as looking at baby pictures? What if David was right, that he was helping the world go round? What if the Carnacki Correctional Institute for Women was only one of hundreds of its kind? What if she really wanted to explore what she hadn't dared to seriously think about when she was sharing that room with Trish?


Part 19 - Two Offers

Two days later, on a crisp Friday morning, Jane went for her job interview, and was pleasantly surprised. The publication was made up of serious reporters who covered real issue, making it a dream job. No one there seemed corrupt, and her uncle's connection was a friend of one of the backers, not anyone on the editorial or reporting staff. Nor had pressure been applied to get her the job. When Jane left the interview, she was to report to work on November 15th, when another reporter's maturity leave was starting.

Everything was perfect!


That evening a delivery came for her, from someone who had paid extra for an after hours delivery. Jane had no idea who had sent her the pair of boxes, but she quickly opened the larger one.

To find a familiar uniform. The one she had worn for a week last summer. One picked with her in mind. Even the bra size was junior miss 4.

The other box had the sleepwear (including the tiny thong), a camera, and a letter. Of course it was from a certain older admirer, one whose name she still didn't know. If it hadn't included details of their one meeting she wouldn't have been sure it was from him.

In the letter he said how he regretted not seeing her in one of her uniforms, and asked her to wear one (or both) of them for him. If not at his house in person than at her apartment in photographs. If she wore it to his house then she need only spend perhaps a hour or two modelling for him, and she would be able to sit comfortably when she left - if that was her desire. If she was modelling in her apartment then he would like if she went through a series of different poses, including ones that offered her bottom to the camera, then mail the camera back. In either case he would owe her a favour for taking time out of her day to bring a spot of joy to an old man's dreary life, and certainly her uncle had taught her the value of favours. And of course, even if she decided to ignore the letter she was free to keep the uniforms.

Jane considered the letter.

She had almost a month until her job started. If she wanted to spend a week seeing if his fantasies meshed with hers she would have weeks to recover. Even if she didn't make that jump, did she really want to offend a rich and powerful man?

Picking up the camera, Jane reviewed the instructions that had come with it. It had a time delay and simple remote, allowing her to act as model and photographer. More surprisingly, its memory card wasn't empty.

Reviewing the photos, Jane saw a girl her age wearing the uniforms and going through poses. They started out more or less as Jane had planned, then became more daring. One showed the girl, in her uniform, standing from the back with the tube from an enema bag going under her skirt. The next showed her from the front with the enema tube visible over her shoulders, with her blouse lifted to display her extended stomach. Then came one of the girl lying on her bed with her skirt up and panties down just enough, with a rectal thermometer showing just above her panties.

The next series of photos showed the girl wearing only parts of the uniform, using it as an erotic prop as she posed.

Then the photos' background shifted. The girl was on a lawn, looking nervous as she shook hands with the mysterious benefactor. The next photo showed her facing a corner, with her skirt pinned up, her panties by her feet, and a very sore looking bottom on display.

From there the photos varied. One showed the woman wearing only a dog collar. Another showed her being switched in a wooded area. Various costumes and instruments were used. As the outdoor settings shifted it was clear that the photos had been taken over the span of months.

The last photo had a completely different background. It was an outdoors desert scene, one that include the girl naked in chains and various Arabs. The girl looked frightened. It took a long moment for Jane to realise that it was a slave auction, that the girl was being sold.

Shifting to the next photo told her nothing of the girl's fate, for it was a photo of a letter. Large block text spelled out:

"Everything you saw, including the end, was her choice. As the last photo shows, I was able to give her what she truly desired."

The next photo, the last one, was also a message. One that sent shivers through Jane.

"What will your choices be? How will you allow me to fulfil your desires?"


Jane panicked. A frantic hour later she was talking to the only person she thought she could trust. David listened to her story and reviewed the photos before answering any of her questions.

"First, yes, I did know that you had been back to Carnacki." David informed her. "Dad told me after the fact, but I noticed when the arrangements were made. I'm not sure what dad told you, but that should keep you safe. Did he mention making your bones?"

"Yes." Jane whispered.

"He was telling you the truth." David assured her. "And they will trust you more because they think you know what they know."

"They think what?"

"The girl you fingered?" David replied. "That was Vikki. As in the girl who took your place."

"Oh. OH! Sorry!"

"Don't be, I'm the reason she's there." David told her. "About the guy, from what I know of him, she did ask for everything the photos show."

"She wanted that?"

"Maybe not, but she asked for it. Maybe, lying in the afterglow, he asked her about fantasies and she said she wanted to be sold as a real slave. Later she might have changed her mind, maybe as she got off the plane and saw that the fantasy was becoming real, but she asked for it and he gave it to her. That's one of the things he does. If you cater to his fantasies then he tried to make your darker fantasies come true."

"What about her? Can we rescue her?" Jane asked.

"No, we don't even know what country she was sold in, or when it happened." David said. "You might not have noticed, but the photos weren't taken with this camera. They were added to the memory card before it was inserted. No, we don't have enough information to even start."

"Oh."

"My advise? If you deal with this man you be very careful to work out all limits in advanced, and you specify that nothing permanent can happen to you." David said. "No tattoos, no branding, no selling you or giving you away, and make sure that you can't agree to change anything until two weeks after you leave his control. That should keep you safe. Or just send him some photos and never meet him in person. Was there anything else you need?"

"Have you heard anymore about Trish?"

"Nope, because I haven't asked. Anymore questions?"

"Your dad is getting me a job, but he wants me to pay for it by doing a favour in the future." Jane revealed.

"That makes sense. Reporters are always useful. Odd are you won't be asked for a favour for years, and then not more than once or twice a year."

"The thing is, before I agree, I want to take the job but I could still back away, and the thing is, ah, how do you live with yourself?"

"I don't live with myself." David corrected. "Not all the time. Didn't you hear? I met someone on Labour Day, it's a long story how, and things are working so well that we spend most nights together."

"Not that, I mean, how do you justify, I mean..."

"I knew what you meant." David chuckled. "I guess, at heart, I'm basically a fascist, but only because fascist bring order."

"Huh?"

"If I had lived in Europe in the 1930s I'd have joined a fascist party and tried to ignore their evil sides while focusing on the good. I would have tried to ignore how political opponents were treated and focused on how they were improving the economy and putting people to work. Mostly because when everyone if focusing on their own rights the centre doesn't hold." David explained. "What's going on now, the people electing whoever they want and fixers working behind the scenes, it works best. The job gets done without running street battles and concentration camps."

"But what about that girl?" Jane asked. "What about the other girls sent overseas?"

"To quote Star Trek 'the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few'." David explained. "If we can keep some tribal leader on side by giving him a couple of washed up former cheerleaders then peace is cheap at that price. It's not like anyone really misses them. You didn't, did you?"

"I didn't know."

"Exactly." David smiled. "You lived mostly in peace, you had cheap gas, and things got done all without you noticing. Or anyone noticing. Of course there are bad apples, but the system mostly works."

"Bad apples? Who?"

"People like Anton who get involved for sex and power." David explained. "He didn't give a shit which tribal leader is in charge as long as he got to sell them girls. That and get to strap a few himself."

"The pig." Jane snorted.

"Pig because of greed, which is true, pig..."

"Pig because he like strapping women." Jane snapped.

"How well do you know men?" David asked. "Look, you're my little cousin and nothing will change that. I used to see you streaking when you were a toddler, and we've know each forever, but I'm still a guy."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning you have an okay body." David said. "Look, I don't think either of us is comfortable with this, so I'll switch the example to Trish. Trish is your friend, but I hardly know her. If I had a chance to see her naked with no push back, I'd probably take it."

"Well, maybe but..."

"And if I happened to see her getting a strapping, or padding, caning, whatever, then I'd probably enjoy it. Most men would." David revealed. "It's a biological evolutionary response that's hard coded in our DNA. And if you were a cousin who I hadn't seen growing up, then I would probably enjoy watching you get it."

"You would?" Jane asked in disbelief.

David handed the camera back to her.

"I didn't know that girl, not at all, but I enjoyed the photos." David said. "All of them. That doesn't mean I go around spanking girls, but if I was king of the world I might. All because men are programmed to have sex with as many girls as they can, and you know it."

"Yeah, right."

"Have you flirted to get what you want?" David challenged. "And it worked, even when the guy knew you were just joking around."

"Um, well..."

"And didn't you offer to have sex with anyone who could get you that interview?" David continued. "You know men are programmed for sex so you offered sex to get what you wanted and guy gave you what you wanted. You thought that Anton turned down your offer of sex, but he was just waiting until he could enjoy fucking you in jail."

"Well sex is instinctive, but what about the spanking?"

"Sex and violence are linked in the lizard mind." David told her. "That comes from the days that one guy would kill another guy and rape his women. Some guys have more violence in their sex drives than others, but it's in every drive to some extent, even if it's turned around. Where does that get us? You offered sex to Anton. He saw you, wanted to strap the attitude out of you and fuck you silly, and that's what he decided to do."

"But to say all men want..."

"Look, I don't often explore that end of my sex drive." David told her. "Want to speak to an expert? That guy who sent you that camera knows more about it than most. Lots of guys act out their dominant impulses, but he knows how to draw out a girl's submissive instincts."

"Her what?" Jane asked in anger.

"When one guy killed another guy and took his women, any woman who resisted too much had fewer offspring than the ones who submitted to the new order." David explained. "If you want to learn more, talk to the guy and see what you volunteer to do."

"I'll talk to him, but I won't do anything." Jane vowed.


Part 20 An Unwise Decision

Jane sobbed into her gag.

She had talked to the influential man, not intending to do anything with him, and he had wanted to know about her. Somehow her feelings came out, her shame when someone saw her nude. He had talked about how her shame was merely misunderstood pleasure. He had talked more, and somehow Jane had agreed to his plan.

Which is how she ended up nude, no, the word 'nude' had some dignity attached to it. Which how she ended up NAKED between two posts, her arms and legs bound to those posts, meaning she was effectively spreadeagled. Her legs were wide open, her sex bit weren't just visible, they were available for anyone who wanted to fondle or finger them. She had agreed to that, thinking that she only had to deal with one old man, but it seems he threw a nightly party. Anyone at that party could touch her. She had been poked, pinched, prodded, fondled, and maybe the worst pain she felt came from people talking about her boobs, or lack of them.

The most hurtful comments came from the other girls. Females seemed to outnumber males at the party by two to one, but many of them appeared to be submissive, or even outright slaves. She saw girls in chains, in leather, being spanked, having their tits flogged, and otherwise being physically dominated. More amazing was the fact that most of them seemed to like it. Jane saw one girl cumming, literally cumming, just from being caned. Not caned and fucked, she came just from being caned.

"Are we having fun yet?"

Jane turned her head to focus on her host.

"Maybe, maybe not? That gag makes it hard to tell. When we talked I received the distinct feeling that this might be the only time you come to one of my little parties, and I wanted you to make the most of it."

Jane growled into her gag.

Her host laughed.

"Now you came at Punishment Night, but no one saw your face, did they? Here, everyone will see everything you have as you cum for me."

Jane shook her head definitely.

"You think not? You may be right. Ego I cheat."

He used a vibrator on her, filling her expertly.

Jane wanted to die! It was bad enough he was talking to her, which meant they were the centre of attention. Every eye in the room was on her, seeing her open ass as the vibrator worked her pussy. They saw it when her breathing deepened. They watched her body began trembling. They mocked and teased her, calling her an innocent little girl who didn't know what she wanted, what she really needed. She wanted to die of shame as he made her cum for their pleasure. Used her like a piece of meat.

Her host had been right; that was the last time she was at one of his parties.


Part 21 - Epilogue

November came, and it her Real Job. December arrived, and it brought with her a surprise of its own.

One evening in early December Jane heard a knock on her door. Opening it revealed Trish. Trish with her normal clothing but wearing the Carnacki hairdo.

"Trish!" Jane exclaimed, hugging her friend. "Sweet Trish! They let you out! They finally let you out!"

It was too late to contact David to retrieve Trish's luggage, or for her to find a place to stay, so Jane offered her the couch for the night.

"Could I have the bed instead." Trish asked.

"My bed?" Jane asked in shock. Once her initial reaction was over, Jane began to wonder if she owed Trish the bed.

"Oh, I shouldn't have asked for your bed." Trish said. "Maybe you should strap me for doing it?"

"Trish?"

"Or paddle, or belt, or just plan spank?" Trish suggested.

"Um, let's get that hairdo off you, then we can talk." Jane decided.

Jane clipped Trish's hair over some newspapers, but took her friend to the bathroom to shave her head.

"These are my only clothes." Trish said. "And don't want to get them wet."

"You can take them off." Jane offered.

Soon Trish was sitting naked in the tub as Jane shaved her head. They talked as Jane worked, really talked, and by morning Jane knew three things.

The first thing was that Trish now admitted that she might, just might be a little bi.

The second was that having Trish as a roommate might be hell, but having Trish as a slave might be liveable.

The third was her Cousin David might be right about there being a biological imperative to spank a girl's bottom.

[goodgulf]

Yes, it is a bit long. About 40,000 word. Hope that people like it.

Goodgulf

[reddendmaker]

Your stories are the greatest Goodgulf. The approach/avoidance conflicts are just superb. I've been reading every one of your creations since likely around 2000 and always just can't wait till you post the next one. The only fault I ever find is that you could have a better editor,(not for content or plot), which I would gladly volunteer to do before you 'publish'. I've always read you on this site and wonder why you've never joined the (Kilahara Library) now the Library of Spanking Fiction? A vast majority of the great and productive writers of the genre are there and they even make some money with their works. Most of yours (this one at 40,000 words) are certainly short story length and as I said your work is always spot on. As an added bonus, all of your work would be preserved for posterity instead of just on my hard drive and backup..... I've always worried about puritans and sun spots destroying one of my favorite pastimes.....reading spanking fiction. BTW, if you've ever lost anything, check with me; I just may have it.

[goodgulf]

I may take you up on that offer. I hate to say this, but this story was edited twice by myself (months apart) and had another set of eyes go over it before it was posted.

Goodgulf

[reddendmaker]

Anytime, I rarely get to use my BA in English and would be happy to help out.