Break of A Lifetime - Part Six

[mateodumbarton]

Break of a lifetime Part 6
by Goodgulf
#1771
awatcher123Aug 28, 2015
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 such 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 someone 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 us 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.