Agatha's prison - one day early (2)

[Igor con Fine]

(Thank's everyone for the feedback and the kind words. I appreciate it very much.)


Wrong track


If I had breath to spare I would have screamed in horror – I am passing through the prison yard completely naked, under everybody's eyes. And my head is still bent down so sharp I can't even look out who might see me. I just see that there is dust – everywhere dust. I hope it is another dust storm coming up from Texas, no one will be outside, the dust may even hide most of me, maybe no one notices I am actually unclothed.
My naked feet gallop over the pebbled sand that is always covering our pathways, raising cloudlets of even more dust.
It sticks to my wet body, my soaked hair as Agatha rushes me to the disciplinary block.

No … she is not really sending me to a disciplinary action NOW?

I don't even have clothes with me. 'Added additional corrections' – they are dished out on inmates in the nude – but they can dress afterwards. My mind already pictures myself waiting in the middle of a correction vault, nude and dust covered, my hands still locked. And I can only imagine our most lecherous executioner. He would love to dish out whatever Agatha has summed up for me, he would use every possibility to add even more for 'uncooperative behavior' or whatever he can fabricate.

I know it is more likely he will just let me go as fast as he learns who I really am – but - I reprimanded him so often, threatened to terminate his employment.
It would give him so much leverage.
There is that evil grinning, yellow teethed face saying: 'Didn't recognize you, sorry, jus' did my job. 'Course you can file a complaint and we'll scan the recordings – in your case with the whole management board.'

A clump is forming in my stomach as this outcome is looming, and I pant heavily passing through the doors of the block.

Relief - Agatha just sends me down to solitary. Not where I wanted to be, but way better than corrections.

As I am ordered to 'lie down, face downwards, legs spread' again, my legs burning from the intense run, it comes to my mind. Solitary will be used as quick custody in case of emergency.
Holding cells need to be prepared, Solitary is always ready.

My sweat is painting traces through the dust on my skin – and my breasts are again complaining that this posture is really uncomfortable. Proclaiming that it will get more and more uncomfortable if I stay this way– as Agatha ordered.


My body is calming down – and I slowly begin to analyze my situation. Make a decision. Something has happened. Agatha went to lock down. I am confined here, in a very unflattering condition.
There are enough employees to manage the situation, I am marked as absent, my deputy will take over. Just … Co-Warden Kovacek is a moron. Most of the time he is chewing on the 'Co-' we bestowed upon him. And he has a more stabbing approach when it comes to computers. One of that guys that slowly aim their fingers in direction of a button and then forcefully push it through. Sincerely not my preferred candidate, but we needed some position for him.

Fawn is unavailable as she faces a trial for smoking weed – again. Brilliant programmer, but her desire to 'ease her spirit' complicates her employment.

I can just hope that the moron gets the situation sorted out, then hope that Agatha leads me without further notice in my office, hope that there is no one seeing me – after lock-down, the whole administrative building will be busy like a bee hive.

Or I could just stand to my stupid situation. It is embarrassing, and I would face consequences. But I should somehow be able to explain. If I do nothing I don't know how I should answer the question: 'Why does the warden lie in a cell doing nothing while her prison is in exceptional circumstances?'

“Agatha,” I cough to clear my throat, “Agatha, I need to see a guard, urgently.”

“Prisoner, an officer will be sent to you as soon as possible.”

That means nothing. Solitary has low priority, especially during an acute incident.

“Agatha, this is an emergency, I need to see a guard immediately.”

“Prisoner, there are no signs for a medical emergency. All medical staff is currently unavailable. If necessary they will be sent to help you as soon as possible.
You can make an emergency call in case of a life threatening condition.
Abuse of an emergency call has severe consequences explicitly including the prolongation of your sentence.
Do you enforce an emergency call?”

“...No... “ I answer wearily. It would not help me really, Agatha will just give my vital signs higher priority, and will alarm control. They will just take a glimpse on the video feed and postpone me also. The only thing that would definitely happen is that Agatha prepares a file of the incident with my data, and whatever surveillance material she deems necessary. Afterwards the degrading material will be distributed. There is a list of persons that needs to be noticed, a list way longer than I appreciate in my current condition. Mostly they would just delete the mail, but there is my name in it – and only one would suffice to make it go viral. And I have no means to stop that mail.

So, no, Agatha, no Emergency Call.

“Prisoner, for feigning an emergency additional corrections have been added to your disciplinary action.
Prisoner, you will stay in lock down position. An officer will be sent to you as soon as possible.
Further disturbance will impose further corrections.”

Agatha has me on her naughty list. As a real prisoner I would sincerely get my backside battered purple.

My breasts on the other hand would welcome my backside to take over some of their burden.
I can still feel them complain because of the grate, now lying with my hands unavailable and my legs stretched wide is not easing their rant.

I have no clue how long Kovacek or who else might take to get us out of lock down. Not knowing anything is exhausting. My crushed rack starts his own clock pulsing with small painful stitches. I shift my weight, alternating left and right– it only helps a little bit – better than nothing. I need to be careful, to much struggling will provoke Agatha to use the collar again.
..



Udders strikes back


..
Now both are really aching. Pain and shame.
I once named my breasts pain and shame. Only pain at the moment. Until that promised guard comes - then it is of course shame, too.

Marcia Bennett – she was the reason to for that names. She called them udders. 'The only cow with udders up front'. 'So sorry, this is the human tits club. Not enough room for udders.” It stuck, I was called Udders until I began studying. They spent years torturing me, and it took me years to build my self-esteem up again. Loosing some weight and being one of the rare girls in programming courses helped.

I thought I left that part of my life behind, until a small program I wrote alarmed me.
The app constantly scans for prisoners promising high revenue, and that I entered all of my former tormentors should have told me that there is no 'left behind'.

Audrey Hart, her former bestie and my co-torturer, was listed as available prisoner. The prisoner allocation exchange allows private correction facilities to underbid each other and the state to get their cells filled. The cheapest jail gets the inmate. Of course including transfer rates.
And I made sure she spent that weekend here - until she could got bailed.
With transit fee we actually payed for her.
But even as I am currently in a very similar situation I still cannot suppress a smile – that was something I deeply enjoyed, worth every penny.
I have her full video footage at home.
She only got my 'premium' guards. They provoked tons of outbursts.
And I love the video of her concluding physical correction. We use partial randomization in nearly every routine, and it is incredibly easy to pile up a large amount of physical corrections, if the circumstances are really 'unlucky'.
And of course that time I tried to teach Agatha 'carelessness' with cuffs and shake downs – there maybe were some 'bugs' – try and error....
17 excessive cavity searches in less than 2 days sincerely made hers the best searched butt in the states. We have that ultrasound scanners, but they can be fooled. Prisoners fool everything, they always find a way you haven't thought about, and two additional. So we still do cavity searches by hand – as a friend says: 'Two fingers snuggling stop all smuggling.'

Audrey was not amused - and hired a lawyer to file a complaint. Agatha processes them all fully automatic. Formalized answer with video evidence of all her rule violations, of course always out of context, but they suffice to suppress nearly every complaint.
Obviously I informed the prosecutor, too. It is only fair that he can also judge the character of Audrey, insulting officers, resisting ordered actions. And the tanning of her backside has some extraordinary colorful language. Sincerely the court will find it helpful, too.

If she gets convicted I will make sure she will serve her time here!
I am looking forward to be alarmed again, regardless if it is her or her friends.
First step for every evil revenge plan: Note birth dates and birth names. If you are depressed enough to fill out a friends book yourself, with every girl you so hope she would be your friend while she is actually pestering you, don't forget to include that data and keep the book!
I'll get them all whenever they get in conflict with the law, regardless if they marry, or even change their gender!



“Prisoner, you may leave position. Lock down is still in effect. Stay in your cell, inside you are allowed to move freely.” - my hands unlock, and with a sigh I heave myself up. I stretch all my limbs, and am finally able to rub some feeling back in my tortured boobs.
At first, 'Udders' needs to get out of this cell.

Less than 8 feet square, sandy yellow (in)cubus, containing only a thin mattress on the floor. A grate near the entrance wall with a high pressure nozzle will take care of my human needs, a short, flexible pipe mounted directly over the 'toilet' at navel height will provide a calculated amount of drinking water, if you squat or bend down to reach it.
The most complex part besides the railed roof is the door module, consisting of the steel door and an immobile part near it, containing hatches at navel and ankle height. Above the upper hatch is a small screen, secured by armored glass.

After an extensive stretching I watch my blurred face in the mirroring surface of the screen. I look horrible, sweat traces through the dust clinging on my skin, covering my half dried hair. My whole body is in a punishable state because of poor hygiene. Hope Agatha remembers I am not responsible, she may add 'further corrections'.

I take a step backwards, try to sit down and relax my body on the mattress until I get choked by my collar. Screwed by myself again. I had no clue how a prison works, but I had many advisors. And I learned that solitary needs time to have an impact.
Prisoners tend to use the first hours as recreation, get some sleep, slack.

So I prevented recreation. The winch lets out enough cable to squat or stand, but not to sit or furthermore lie down. Especially not on the mattress, as the slider stays at the front of the cell.

Standing, squatting, maybe kneeling. And various training sessions. In between I will be allowed to sit down, but Agatha will not notice me. I will have to try repeatedly.
Until a guard finally arrives.
Solitary should be a punishment!



Domingo Riguero


….....
Sweat is running down my body and face, burns in my eyes.
Agatha pushes me through a training session. The display shows the live feed of myself with a stick figure overlay showing how I should move. And I am not doing well.
Finally I reach 57 % for my training, and she is scolding me: “Your performance was below expectations. Additional corrections have been added to your disciplinary action.”
Thank you, Agatha.
“Agatha, I need to see a guard. Urgently. Please send someone here.” I demand the umptieth time.
“You have been told repeatedly that an officer will be sent to you as soon as possible. You will wait patiently. Additional...”
Yes, I know already. More corrections for my disciplinary action.

Agatha tries to estimate the fitness level – and sets demanding but reachable goals.
But I am at the end of my patience, really pissed by now. I just want one guard to show up - I will be disgraced utterly, but if I am lucky it is a nice officer and either way this all has an end!
57 % is still exhausting, and as reward for my unmotivated behavior Agatha shortened my leash. She ordered 'stand at attention'.

I will avoid the punishment shocks for non compliance, but the goals Domingo implemented in training are no incentive for me.

Domingo Riguero – nowadays a very valuable mentor.
He changed my life. After our first meeting.

It was the time I tried to find clients for my system. I called so many people. One of the most funny parts was when I called as my own secretary, desperately 'trying to find a slot' in my empty schedule to fit some manager in.
Domingo was one of that managers. I had no idea who he was and what he did. That particular day I stayed overnight at Fawn and took her small Aygo – she had a job not far away, it seemed like a good omen.
I assigned GPS the task to drive to somewhere, near El Paso.
After being imbued with patchouli for miles I finally arrived at the building, found a gate named 'Deliveries', and parked far out of sight.
Fawns Wiccah-Goth-passion for everything morbid made the small black car an eye catcher you don't want to show to any possible business partner. If she could, she would hex it into a 4-dimensional hearse.
I got my case, tried to shake some smell out of my clothes and nervously tottered on my heels to my very first business appointment.
I found a bell button and shortly after ringing a young hispano opened a door, eyeing me up and down, and I am not sure but I think he called me puta, and ordered me to get naked subito?.
I stared confused at him, and said I wanted to see Mister Riguero. He held a small whip in his hands and again ordered me with a heavy accent to get naked - I showed him the finger.
Today I know that it is some kind of running gag, but back then I was enraged and appalled the same time.
He just laughed, said something spanish with Senor Riguero in it, and gave me a sign to follow him. First time in a slave market, or maybe storage – I honestly had no clue, but I was overwhelmed when he finally sat me in a chair in an empty office.
Domingo resided on the first floor, windows showed the busy area where countless slaves were stored, moved or loaded, kneeling in their cages.
I must have stared in awe, as I was suddenly interrupted by the opening of the door.
Domingo Riguero, a commanding man around his 50s, aged only to his benefit - flattering his hispanic features. The light Grey in his well tended hair, his wide shoulders, his motions and figure exuding dominance.
He entered his bureau in his full work uniform, directly out of the slave market. He threw his leather jacket over his chair and I could only stare at his belt, showcasing the tools of his profession.
With a, as I later learned fake, accent he asked in a deep voice what the 'chica bonita' wants.

He just played out his accent – stared at my rack, inspected my butt. He used some spanish words, and smiled enticingly. It was warm and the whole atmosphere was loaded, the mass of naked women just a window away made me nervous, and – I tried to cover it up with flirting.
He sat down in his chair - and I stood up, bent deep down over his desk, presenting him my tablet with my presentation. I successfully attracted his gaze – I thought I could melt this guy with my charms. One of the times I was thankful for my ample bosom. I was sure I could entice him to engage us – he could introduce us into his business, and with everything coming together I was willing to do things I normally would not.
I walked around his desk and bending over deep I illustrated first the pictures of the rail system, presenting him my front and backside – gave him a short explanation of what Agatha would be able to do, some benefits for slave traders we expected, and at last some videos of 'slaves' getting trained by Agatha.

The foundation for the training program Agatha just seconds ago used on me.

We wired an Xbox 3d camera to Agatha, and let her analyze a slave yoga session.
First Fawn got 84 %, 'a good result' I commented. Afterwards another 'slave girl' was trying her best, but did underperform with less than 50 %.
'You don't need anybody to control her, Agatha will autonomously and automatically detect which slave girl performs good and which one needs more training. The second slave slut can be automatically scheduled for a punishment, and a more intensive training. You will need less employees and you can guarantee a steady quality in your training, not influenced by different trainers.' I actually used the word slut -
he just laughed and said that both girls did not reach his expectations, he expected at least 100 %.
I explained that it was not possible to reach 100 %, maybe with a better camera, but even then Agatha would not count every movement – 100 % would still be impossible.
Domingo just stared in my eyes and said, without any accent:
'I will train you to reach way more than that 100%.' First I was speechless, and, after a short time, mumbled: 'Train that slave girl …'
'You', he interrupted with a dangerous smile, 'I can train you. I am selling girls for years, I know my merchandise. You and that other girl don't know nothing about slave yoga. Your Agatha knows nothing about training.
You both reached no percentage at all, you did sports.
Slave yoga is hot. Slave yoga is lewd. If you really were a 'slave slut' you would beg with your whole body for a good fuck. You would use your body and your submission to arouse everybody around you, to overwhelm everybody watching you that he or even she urgently needs to use you. I can train you to do that - my 100 % - pure lust. Pure submission.
Not that Agatha position-your-limb-correct nonsense.”
He pointed to the windows.
“I have the forms here, just sign and release your real inner 'slave slut'. I will get you the best possible grade. I will just keep you for some time to get your mind in shape, and the body will follow.”
He suddenly was so close, and I was bathed in my sweat – and sweat was not everything that made me wet. I blushed as he continued: “Join that girls out there. No worries. No problems. Just feel the heat – do what you were born for. Revel in your arousal. You will make more money releasing your lust as driving that tablet with nonsense around.” I quickly stepped back, and actually fled. “Come back when you are ready. I will polish you until you are a perfect little slave girl.” he called after me.

I just sat in Fawns car for some time to clear my head before I could drive home. And I needed to stop on my way home, to spent some ..work.. quenching my arousal – on a lonely country lane.
I visited more slave businesses after that, but Domingo and that storage of cages kept my mind busy for some time, on various special occasions. No wonder I felt so hot when he called.



Stand at attention (1)


Now I am aroused. Standing at attention, slowly cooling down and stopping to sweat, and now I get wet. I need to get out of here:
“Agatha, I really need to see an officer. Can you please finally send someone here!”
“You have been told repeatedly that an officer will be sent to you as soon as possible. You will patiently stand at attention. Additional corrections have been added to your disciplinary action.”

Stand at attention. Another 'brilliant' idea to mess up solitary time. Standing straight, arms to the body, eyes to the front. Too much wiggling is instantly punished by the collar. I still feel the pain in my neck from my attempt to scratch an itch.
Agatha displays me on the small screen, and a small 'traffic light' is glowing green – stance correct. Red would shock me again.

Doing this naked is so weird, I am covered in dust – and my hairs make me look like a scarecrow.
No clothes in solitary reduced the number of incidents noticeably, but this stay here is the most degrading experience in my whole life. And sooner or later that door will open for one of my subordinates to evaluate me in all my current glory, teaching me even more how much you can be humiliated in just one day.

...

My bladder is full. I tried to avoid the 'toilet', but I would have used it after my training.
I could not, as I was directly sent to attention stance – and now it gets more and more urgent.
I never thought that just standing still can be so challenging.
I carefully shift my weight between my legs, but I am more and more convinced that I will need a pee break. Beg Agatha permission to pee, another degradation. I still hope that my attention time will expire before I cannot hold it any longer.

The small traffic light switches to amber as I shift my weight again – and I finally surrender:
“Agatha, I need to pee.”
“Attention stance can be interrupted for urgent private needs. Attention time will be significantly prolonged. Faking a private need will be further corrected.
Do you need to interrupt attention stance?”
“Yes, Agatha, please...”, that please was unnecessary, just slipped. As soon as the cable unlocks I nearly jump over the grate and squat.

I use my fingers to open my labia, and wait for the stream – nothing.
It is an almost painful pressure, but not a single drop is dripping out.
I hate my situation. It is just Agatha watching – why can't I …. I close my eyes, and hum a melody.

Squatting here nude over the absolute most basic toilet, my feet wide, my most private part exposed with the help of one hand, the other against the wall – I just cannot let go. It feels like an eternity, until finally Agatha is putting an end to it:
“Additional corrections have been added to your disciplinary action.” while she winches the cable in.
I hear me screeching out frustration, on the half way to standing up I feel myself splattering my legs. Finally, the pressure subsides - and Agatha releases my cable again. I can squat down. The small cell fills with the smell of my urine.

Finished I present myself to the nozzle in the wall. Agatha sprays me down when she detects me in position. I can even clean my legs a little bit, but water is valuable, and as soon as my privates are sufficiently cleaned the water flow stops.
Agatha mercilessly pulls me back into position, the traffic light changing to amber until I am correctly positioned again.
I hear Agatha cleaning the grate with another water spray, but my eyes are again forced to be fixed on: The small green light.

…



Intrusion


“Stretch your arms out left and right and hop visibly three times.”
Oh, I love to. That stupid green light is burned into my retina, the screen switched off but I can still see it. I welcome to spread my arms and get out of this depressive stance. I even enjoy 'pain and shame' pulling strongly when I land on my feet. Everything is better than that concentrated boredom.

“Keep your arms stretched out, squat down and cough three times.”
I laugh out loud. I look so hilarious even in the slurred mirroring surface of the screen, my mind fills what my eyes can't see.
Dirt covered and with my messy hair I squat down on my dirty, bare feet. Completely naked with spread out arms, traces of sweat running through the dirt, light sprinkles of my pee still covering my legs. And then I cough. Three times.
Now I understand – it is only a very tiny step in my current condition to just fart loudly. There is a point not far away when nothing matters at all. Of course I don't, but I am close to not caring any more.

“Put your hands through the upper latch and fix your cuffs to the anchor points.”
Finally... an officer incoming. The 'not care' feeling is blown away, replaced by new thoughts – No, I am not just any inmate who does not care, I am the boss of whoever is coming in. And I am in a really uncommon state. This will be humiliating like crazy.
As my wrists get locked, my hands outside of the cell, myself bending deep down near the cell door I feel blood rushing into my face. My breasts dangle with my breath, and I try to make a quick plan what I should say when that officer is opening my cell.

“Spread your legs wide.”

What can I say to minimize this awkward situation.

“Open your hands, spread your fingers. Turn your hands.” Agatha is ordering and I follow her command. I see motion through the open hatch.
The jailer inspects my hands, the door opens and I turn my head to spot Gene Walker examining me. He is 10 years older, only a little bit taller than me, but strongly built. He tended to have longer hair, but recently cut it short. He is always clean shaven, and in all his manners a very prim worker.
He has dark skin, I don't know if it is just extended time in the sun, possibly some native ancestry.
Only a low level of complaints - which means no real complaints.
A correction executioner, as recommended for solitary. Lightly discernible as he wears the pure black uniform, and not a dark blue one.

“Inmate Candy. You signaled your need to see a guard urgently – so report what you want.”

I am unable to cope with the situation, standing completely naked, wide legged, totally exposed with my hands bound, still unsure if I should be worried or relieved that it is Mr. Walker.
I am still planning what I should say so I just begin to stutter:
“Yes – um – sir. I just wanted to know what happened? I am not supposed to be here?”

He stops directly near me, and sinks his hand in my hair, holding my head.
“Sorry, Candy, what happened is none of your business. Nothing you need to worry about.
We will find out where you are supposed to be. But first we need to execute protocol. Open your mouth - “ he says with a casual tone. I ask back with a simple 'huh' -
as soon as I open my mouth I hear the ratchet of a mouth spreader, forcing my jaws wide open, my protest slurring into non intelligible noise. A menacing feeling crouches up my back – no, he won't …
Mr Walker already started to pat down my hair. I begin to shake my head but he simply grasps the hair on the back of my head and holds me tight, saying:
“Candy, stop it. This is just a cavity search. Comply, and it will be over soon. You already caused enough trouble. You called Agatha more than 20 times, at least one of those bestowed you a random cavity search.
When we execute your disciplinary action you would have got one anyway.
Agatha has summed up enough for you to worry, so stop being a nuisance, or I will add even more!”

He businesslike fondles my breasts, searching for fixed contraband, as I protest, try to say that this sincerely is not necessary. Of course he understands, at least partially, but ignores it.
He pushes two strong gloved fingers into my mouth, running it along the insides of my cheeks, pushing my tongue out of the way and exploring my mouth thoroughly. I shudder as one finger trails the roof of my mouth – a really uncomfortable tickling.
My forced wide open jaws begin to hurt. The fingers just play with my tongue, the glove leaves a unpleasant rubbery taste on it. While I begin to drool the fingers roll through my spit, and I protest louder – and even less understandable as his fingers linger on my tongue.
I close my legs and wiggle my backside away from him, knowing what he will do next.
I have reached the limit of his patience. With a loud smack he brings his other hand down on my cheek.
“Fun is over, Candy. Stop clowning around or you get the cane. Do not challenge me.”
His mighty hand is gripping my cheek, and he uses his boots to carefully push my legs apart and backwards. Wide spread I utter protesting noises, looking wide eyed through my legs I see him bring two spit-glistening fingers to my crotch. And then one finger glides into my dry slit. I feel my muscles try to expel him, and I rush instantly forward to escape this intrusion.
The hand on my cheek is holding me stronger, one boot is lifting my foot, I loose my balance and end speared on his finger again.
“Agatha, one cane stroke for Candy.” - Agatha just replies, “Added one cane stroke.”
“Stop it, Candy!” - he has me in his firm grip, my legs hold spread by his body – his arm around my waist. He pushes his other big finger in me. I breath in heavy as both fingers begin to rotate, palpating my insides. I had never thought that an abuse of my vagina could feel so asexual, so mechanical, so punitive. I release my breath when he pulls the fingers out. I am paralyzed.
He puts that gloved fingers back in my mouth again - my dry cavity left only the hint of a flavor added to the rubbery taste of the glove.
As I realize what will happen next... with a panicked groaning I begin to shake myself again. I feel my tits painfully flailing around while I wildly shake my backside away from him – universal language for 'that fingers are not going anywhere near my bumhole'.
“Agatha, add one more with the cane” - and as I am still not calming down “make it two more with the cane.” - “Added two cane strokes.”

He moves to my side, just grabs my hair again and pulls my head up, straining my collared neck.
“Okay, Candy, I don't know what's up with you and what you are trying here. But I don't think this is very clever for an experienced inmate.”
As I am still not calm enough he kicks both my legs away, and I land painfully on my knees.
With another order “Agatha, round up to 5 additonal cane strokes.” his finger glides between my cheeks. While Agatha confirms, his finger is forcefully drilling in my backside, and I feel my muscles burn as he stretches them. It feels like my sphincters will explode. Wildly thrashing on the ground I try to escape this intruder.
“Candy, I see that threatening does not work with you, stop it or I will get a cane right now – without any warm up.”
I just want that finger out, and I hear myself gargled screaming OUT or whatever leaves my open forced mouth. He forces my head sideways and back and stares with a strict gaze directly in my face.
With an audible pop the finger suddenly leaves my hole.
“Miss Miller?”, Mr Walker exclaims.
“Miss Miller!”, he shakes his head. “I'll be back. You may stay … as comfortable as you can.”

And he leaves my cell.



Falling down


Tears are running down my cheeks, and a ropy foam out of snot and spittle rappels out of my mouth. My butt is still hurting like hell. How can someone hide something inside there? How can you put a dick in that hole?

And then a hysterical laugh shakes me. Even more tears are swelling in my eyes, this is sincerely the worst possible begin for every talk with an employee. Ah, Mr. Walker, I just got your notice of termination, please tell me what can I do to keep you employed in this prison. How many fingers do you need to put into my holes to stay? Another hysterics – of course it would be a little more complicated to understand, I am currently limited on the vowels, consonants need to be guessed.
I kneel with my hands still fixed through the hatch, and can get a glimpse of the floor outside. No one is to be seen. Snot splats on my breasts.

The hysterics subside.

I shudder. That man has more than 20 years experience working in prisons. And I am sincerely the most pathetic, incapable and filthy inmate he ever had.
And now he is gone. I am still here, naked, dirty, drooling – sincerely he will fetch everyone available. They will have so much fun watching warden Miller in all her grace.
How can I ever get back to work.
That video of my cavity search.
Perfect example, I should show it everyone entering the prison, to show how 'tough' I really am.
I feel so ashamed. I want to crawl into a small hole.
I hope they just let me go when they made enough fun out of me, and I will vanish for ever.
Of course he needs some time now, to rally everyone available. ...

“Stand up and spread your legs wide.” Agatha interrupts my self-hatred mantra after some self destructive time.
I could rebel – but what will that be good for. I will just follow their orders, and hopefully my shaming will eventually end. Maybe when they had fun long enough and get bored.

I await the whole entourage wide legged and bent over, as ordered. My tears stopped, and I am no longer sniveling. I stare down, watch my snot reaching the floor. I will just try to keep the tiniest bit of dignity.

The cell door opens.
And there is again Mr. Walker. Alone. Surprised I turn my head.

He has a small bottle of lube in his hands. The bottle we always supply for solitary, that should only be used on exceptions, that must be fetched from the storage room.

“Miss Miller, I tried to scan your files. There is nothing in it, no convictions, no sentence or anything like that. I give you the benefit of believing that you really don't belong here.
So, I currently see two options.
I will instantly release you, will take you out of solitary and to the Co-Warden, who will sort this situation out. If he knows what happens, or you don't mind telling him whatever happened, that would be a very easy way to deal with this situation, as he is still here trying to solve the lock down issue. That will sincerely raise a whole lot of alarms, and everyone will notice what happened, sooner or later.
The only other option is to finish the cavity search. As soon as I abort that the Co-Warden and the officer on duty will instantly be noticed. If we finish your cavity search we can consider how to get you out of this situation without everyone knowing.
Do you want me to bring you to the Co-Warden?” -

I am overwhelmed. When I remind myself how I felt just seconds ago. No, I don't want anyone to see me like this. Anyone else that is. Especially not Kovacek. I get a choice...
I shake my head. Somehow that depressing cloud fogging my mind clears up. I shake my head again – with more emphasis.

“That means we will proceed with your cavity search.
I need to excuse myself.
I know all our category red prisoners, a new one getting here on Saturday, without further notice, and already piling up corrections is always a prison-experienced troublemaker.
If I knew that this was your first search I would have been way more gentle. So, let's try it again, but softer, OK?”
I nod, and he continues,
“Sorry, I have large fingers, can not change that.
You just need to relax. I know that it is not easy.
We will begin very slowly this time.” - my last experience with a finger in my backside puts me in doubt if I made the right decision.
Then I imagine myself standing in my current condition in Kovacek's office – his face contorted in a lecherous smile. He will pay me back every time I scolded him, I declared him incompetent.
If he is a little cleverer as I expect, and he uses this incident with a little creativity he could bring it up to the board. Maybe they find enough reason to cancel my loan.
That collar would stay on my neck, and I would spent a long time enslaved to this facility, under Kovacek's whip. Unlikely, but …. I fear .. possible.

Better I try my luck with Mr. Walker. I get into position, spread my legs and push my backside out.
“Agatha, this is a first time cavity search. It will take significantly longer.” - She answers with her standard “Noted.”

“Miss Miller, you may... “, no I cannot stand that. I scream 'Candy. I am Candy' only half intelligible with my mouth wide open. I am not Miss Miller. Miss Miller is the warden. You may search the damn asshole of inmate Candy, but don't dare touching Miss Miller!

“Okay, .. Candy !

You may close your legs. That will make it easier. I don't think you will try to kick me.
Put your feet shoulder width apart, bend your knees a little and spread them apart a little. Stretch your back. You can alternate between arch and stretch – that will help, too.
And, most important, push while I enter. As you are doing when you .. ah … defecate.
It will hurt, but subside quickly.
We will use a generous amount of lube this time.”

I hear him squeeze the bottle, and cold liquid is applied to my cleft.
I have done everything he recommended, and I must look really ridiculous now. This is so surreal, half kneeling here in a 'ready to get my butt fingered' pose.
Then there is a finger lingering on my anus. It must be his pinkie, it feels smaller than the finger before. He is sliding through the lube, and then he passes my external sphincter, slowly, softly. As soon as I feel the short pain the finger is gone again.
Mr. Walker is carefully pushing his finger in and out, driving it a little deeper every time he enters.
And then the finger is completely inside, I feel his knuckles touching my cleft.

I cannot sort out my perceptions. It hurts, but – different. It hurts definitively less than before.
I just feel full. I want to push that intruder out. But on the other hand it feels … good.
Not good, lewd. He is actually … finger fucking my ass. Slowly, cautiously.
Part of me believes that this is wrong, but another part .. likes that wrong – and even enjoys it .... a tiny little bit?

The finger is gone, actually leaving a – feeling of emptiness. I am so weird!

A new finger is aimed onto my anus, and more lube is squeezed out of the bottle between my cheeks. With a slow but relentless motion the finger is driven deep into my backside, gliding frictionless through my sphincters.
I hear myself moaning loud. Deep. Not only cause of the pain – the sensation of my muscles trying to keep this intruder outside, the tension, the penetration.
I turn bright red, Mr. Walker tries to calm me:
“Don't worry, Candy. This will be over soon.”
The finger lingers for some time sunken deep in my backside, and I feel my sphincters trying to expel it.

Then, with another amount of lube, a second finger tries to join. And that is too much. It feels like my sphincters will rupture any moment, this is not possible. This two intruders are way to much for me.
“Push, Candy. Push.” he yells, and gives my backside a stinging slap. I clench, but when the spasm is gone the second finger is pushed inside in one quick motion.
I try to pant the pain away, a guttural grunt leaving my lungs as the fingers begin to turn, sampling my anus.
Then both are pulled out. I feel relieved.

But there still lingers curiosity – what if that one finger stayed a little longer. I shake my head, try to banish that thought.

“Agatha, cavity search concludes without findings.” and thankfully, she just answers “Noted.”.
Otherwise the whole procedure would be repeated.

“Sorry, Candy, cavity searches require two fingers for execution.”, he says while unlocking my gag. I watch relieved as the metal contraption is pulled out of my mouth, dragging a lot of snot with it. I carefully move my jaw to get the aching joints in motion as I see he is holding the gag with his gloved hand. With the same fingers that just have been in my butt.
As prisoner I of course get the dirty hand, even to remove something out of my mouth.
Degradation as automatism. While I try to swallow the first time since he put the metal mischief into my mouth he holds it under the nozzle over the grate. Naturally Agatha activates the water spray. There is water to wash the gag down if you are jailer, but not to wash pee sprinkled feet if you are prisoner. He shakes the gag down, and stows it into a girdle pouch. The 'cavity pouch'.


Thorny Hope


“Candy, I need proof that you are not a convicted prisoner. Can you somehow show me that you are not trying to fool me and use me as your 'get out of prison free' card?”, he says, accompanied by the snap of the glove leaving his hand.

I cough, and my voice is raspy: “You could watch the surveillance video, how I went to intake, and got into intake.”

“There are no videos attached to your file at all. It seems like you just appeared here.”

“Sorry, my doing. You can watch all files if you try to get them by time and location. I was passing through the corridor in front of my office around 8:10 or 15. You only need to ask Agatha to show it. From that on you can follow me from camera to camera.”

“I will do that. To make one thing perfectly clear: If I catch you lying or trying to mislead me I will at least double your caning. So if this is a scheme, or a stupid joke – this is your last chance to clarify it.”

“No, Mr. Walker...” - he interrupts me with stern voice: “Never use the name, prisoner! For you I am either officer or sir. Staff does not use real names in here, and you will get punished for using the real name of anyone not imprisoned. Sir or officer, you should know that. I call you Candy as you wanted. And you respect my position!”

I stare at him. He would not punish me. He can not beat me. But in his face is a strict determination that lets me doubt:
“Sorry Sir – I just wanted to say... this is not a joke … sir. I wanted to experience the intake process. I should have been led directly back into my office. This should not have happened.”

“You made a mistake.”

“No, not really a mistake, I...”

“Agatha made a mistake?” - I quickly interrupt: “Agatha does not make mistakes. It is a question of the programming...”

“So, you made a mistake!”

I stutter: “I... I... I just didn't expect – I... maybe I made a mistake.”

“You made a mistake and you were imprisoned for it.”

I protest: “But I could impossibly foresee that there will be a lock down – I … I should not end in here - ”

“Keep that in mind, Candy. So, given I find that you are telling the truth and will not cane you, what do you think should I do to help you.”

I thought about that: “Just mark me as available in the schedule. Agatha should automatically send me in my office.”

“So, if we just wait until you are marked as 'at work' your problem would solve itself?”

“I fear I am marked as absent for the next weeks. I am not sure if there actually is a date when I will be marked as back again. It could take forever...”

“Sounds like a big mistake. So, if I do nothing, you will stay here forever, or until someone else helps you – a poorly timed vacation.”

I correct: “It is not a vacation – I am obligated … it does not matter.”

“We determined that you are in prison indefinitely and I am – maybe not your only, but currently best way to get out. I think I should decide what matters. What are you obligated to do?”

I blush. My mouth tries to form some words, but nothing is coming out.
Then he asks again: “Candy, what are you going to do?”

“I will get graded....” and I remind myself - “sir.”

“Oh, you are not already? That is nothing to be ashamed of, many people get graded.”

I can't see him clearly, but it feels like Walker has that look. That inspecting, evaluative look. 'How much fuck is in this meat.' Of course I don't want anyone in staff to know that I will get graded. I thought that will be the most humiliating experience in my life – maybe second most, by now.

“You have everything necessary for a good grade, as far as I can judge.
So, you did not plan to stay some weeks in prison until you can convince a stupid guard to let you out early?”

I shake my head.

“I believe you. And, in your current situation, it is necessary that I considerate you trustworthy.
So, I mark the warden as available – and you get into your office. That will free you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. And why should I free you?”

I am flabbergasted. I stare at him: “I – I don't belong here, I should be free.... I don't know, what do you want to help me, do you want money or...”

“No stop, sorry. That was a mean. I just wanted to see your reaction. So, you will be led to your office. When should I mark you as available?
Currently there are many people working around your office, the Co-Warden is still trying to solve the lock down.”

“I don't know. Maybe when Kovacek is gone? 3 a.m.? 4 a.m.?”

“Agatha, add one strike and one cane stroke for Candy.”

I am shocked: “..What???”

“One strike for being flippant – a prisoner always treats a member of staff respectful, regardless what she thinks about him. You will use the correct title. Co-Warden, for example.
And one cane stroke for using a name!”

“You – you can not beat me. I am not really a prisoner.”

“Of course not. I do not beat. I execute corrections.
A task society needs me to do, and in fact you in person are paying me to do.
My actual schedule reads: Inmate Candy: cavity search – pre-disciplinary lecture – disciplinary action.
This is your lecture, we just integrate your need to speak to an officer, and when I am finished and do nothing else you will be led to corrections.”

I simply stare at him, then I try to reason: “But .. you know who I am. Really, you can not beat--
'correct' me!”

“You are inmate Candy, and you repeatedly violated rules. It is my job to correct you.”

Cold sweat is covering my back: “You know I don't deserve this. This is just a mistake. I should not even be here!”

“Up to 10% of inmates are innocent. They made less of a mistake than you. Maybe you also don't deserve to be here, but you fully deserve your corrections. You have been warned, and still continued to break rules. You should be corrected even stricter, as you set the rules!”

“I did not set the rules, I just took them over!”

“You could change them and did not. Pretty much the same.”

I feel tears forming in my eyes. How can this guy be so stubborn. I gulp.
And then the tears are burned away. How can this guy be so pigheaded! I feel hot anger rising out of my stomach. This is bullshit! He knows that, I've never been trialed, I am here, bend over, naked, dirty, but he has no right to execute anything on me!
With a barely controlled, cold voice I explain:
“I am no convicted criminal. Of course I did not take that warnings seriously.”

“I advise you to calm down.
I will take into consideration that you are an inexperienced prisoner.
I also take into consideration that you are telling the truth, and I consider helping you to get out of here, which is an enormous concession if you just think about what my profession is!
And my profession also includes enforcing the rules.
You must stick to them.
I will overlook that you repeatedly called me 'you' without using officer or sir, but I insist that this does not happen again.
I insist that you, as I expect from every inmate, are grateful when I do something nice for you.
And I insist that you express your thanks when I do something nice for you.
So, I did not add corrections for not correctly addressing me, and you say?”

I just stare at him with open mouth.
Slowly the message sinks into my mind. I can not believe how he treats me – but then there is one point I did not pay enough attention to. He considers helping me out.
I will get out, without everyone noticing.
My voice is first mechanical, but with that insight forming I say firmer:
“Thank you for not adding more corrections?”

“Remind yourself: Who you are thanking for what!”

“Thank you, sir, for not adding more corrections for not calling you sir... , sir?”

“Good. You may think this is ridiculous, but I consider it absolutely necessary for maintaining order.
And...I thought about it – if I find you are saying the truth I will arrange an appointment in the wardens office at 8 a.m.-”

“8?”, I hear myself interrupting, “I will have to spend the whole night in here!”

“Agatha, add 15 minutes of intensive training to the nightly regime of Candy.”, and while Agatha confirms he continues,
“As simple strikes just don't work with you. It is sir or officer for you!
And it is very impolite to interrupt, especially in your situation!
I thought 8 am will be a perfect time. I can not send you cross the yard at 3 or 4 in the morning. If someone notices he will instantly raise an alarm.
Then there is shift changeover of the guards, waking, breakfast.
I will stay longer tomorrow and ensure you will get discreetly in your office.
And the best time for that is between 8 and 10, when you can blend in.
What should you say instead of interrupting me, inmate Candy?”

I blush with his explanation, the anger is gone. Everything he said makes perfect sense, I just hate this cell by now. And my feelings were faster than my thinking.
The loss of freedom alone gnaws heavy at me, but being completely help- and defenseless, bend over, bound - I try the whole time to look sideways and upwards to just see the person talking to me.
Punishing me for every little infraction...
Of course, I should be grateful, it could have been much worse, but it is not easy.
Still I try: “Thank you, sir, for helping me.” - and, with a little time to really understand what officer Walker said I add: “I am really grateful for your help, sir. 8 am is a very considerate time, sir.”

He smiles: “Good, Candy. And when Agatha wakes you tonight to do your training you will understand better how prison works.
I will now review the surveillance, as you mentioned. If you told the truth, I will talk to you again. If you lied, you will get your corrections.
And, regarding your current condition: Agatha, inmate Candy is filthy. Send her to an extended hot shower when I am gone.”
He gestures with his open hand at me, and I understand:
“Thank you officer for granting me a shower!”
And I really feel grateful.


An Extended Hot Shower


Officer Walker leaves, and as the door closes Agatha unlocks my wrists. I am stretching myself out, staying bend over took its toll.
“Agatha, please, I am thirsty.” I say as I squat over my 'toilet' and suck water out of the small tube.
After the gag my mouth feels really dry by now, and I welcome the water running down my throat.
I should feel way more strange, but I am just grateful for the water after my ordeal: Training, standing, cavity search – that one finger... , being lectured – somehow.
Squatting naked over a grate with my legs wide open, my palms against the wall, sucking that small pipe – compared to what happened else today pretty unspectacular.

As soon as I end my sucking, and am standing again, Agatha asks:
“Finished?” - “Yes, Agatha.”
“Handlock position.” - I sigh, and now I need considerably less time to fumble my wrists into the right position. I see the reflection of the small green light on my collar confirming my harmlessness. The door opens, and Agatha leads me through the corridor to the small shower room. It is directly at the head of this corridor, left and right the solitary cells, the adjoining wall and door are made of shatterproof glass.
No privacy at all for any inmate. A place to get clean, nothing else.

I enter the small room, Agatha locks the door and releases my hands.
Welcome warm water rains down on me, and in best sight for anyone entering the corridor I begin to rub down the whole dirt resting on my skin.
After some time Agatha stops the water and I get some soap out of a small tube when I place my hands under it.
I gratefully lather myself – and feel so much better.
The water starts again, and all the filth runs down in the drain.
The hot shower is priceless!

The glass has a no fogging coating – to give unrestricted view - but the room itself filles with hot, steamy air.
I squat down and try to wash away the feeling the intrusions left. I still have a fresh memory of that fingers. I hope this whole experience washes away, down with the other filth.
Tomorrow, 8 am. I don't know what time it is at the moment, but somehow I can manage that, 24 hours in my own prison.

The water stops. On the other side of the shower room is a perforated stainless steel plate mounted upright, diagonally shortening the corner. Hot air is blowing out of it, I bent down to dry my hair and my body. Of course no match to a towel, but much better than my last 'shower' in the launderer.

Agatha orders handlock again and leads me back into my small, sandy yellow cell.
The door locks, and my hands are freed. I feel new born, refreshed. I inspect the mattress, I sincerely left some dust on it, and I don't want to sit in that filth with my freshly cleaned butt.
I will just wait for officer Walker in the corner, cozy and clean.
“Return to stand at attention!”
The cable yanks at the collar as I stumble back into the middle of the cell. The screen is already counting down from 5, and I see the red light glowing.
Hasty I try to get back into position, and I can just utter a frustrated scream, stomp once angry on the floor as the counter reaches zero. At the last moment I am relieved to see green light.

All nice feelings gone, end of my recreation! Agatha brought me down to earth in an instant.

[bastinadanua]

Congratulations, great sequel!! 24 hours as a prisoner was not in the protagonist's plans. Will she be able to escape?

[Igor con Fine]

Congratulations, great sequel!! 24 hours as a prisoner was not in the protagonist's plans. Will she be able to escape?

Thanks for your feedback - I am glad that some people enjoy the story.

And we'll see - many things can happen in 24 hours

[CommodorRaptr]

This is so good! A point of view never explored as far as I know in the slave grading stories. Very much looking forward to see what happens next. Well done!

[Some_guy]

Wonderful chapter