This story is written by David, please send comments and appreciation to voondave@yahoo.co.uk

                             JAILHOUSE BLUES.    Part 2.       By david.

Prison Officers Billie Jo and Bella Donna were, in nature – in both a psychological and in a physical sense – bullies.

But, unlike many of their Prison Officer colleagues – who, although it seemed to be absolutely no problem to them whatsoever, were ‘professional’ bullies, and they unflinchingly bullied the Prisoners in the line-of-duty – Billie Jo and Bella Donna’s characters were streaked throughout, with cruelty and callousness, with malice and malevolence, and with sadistic vindictiveness, like ugly and angry red and grey veins running through black marble.

My cell-mate, Ross, had already spent 2 weeks of his Prison Sentence in Greystone Prison, which was plenty long enough to sense this – to know this.

Now, I watched, in a mixture of horrified disbelief and appalled fascination, as Ross, who had been perched upon our cell’s top bunk like a dismally plumaged bird, unhesitatingly and unquestioningly swooped down in a flapping and ungraceful landing, and prepared to comply with Prison Officer Billie Jo’s appalling and atrocious command – of “’Foot Service’!”

Now, I was about to find out, just exactly, what those curious-looking, torpedo-tube-like holes at the bottom of our cell wall were for.

Ross, with seemingly practised ease, nimbly inserted his legs into the 2 cylinder-shaped holes that were directly below where Prison Officer Billie Jo was standing outside on the Landing, until his legs were in all the way, and he was sitting upright with his body pressing against the rough, grey-painted concrete of our cell wall, and with his neck and face just above the cell wall and framed between 2 of the grey-painted cell bars, and, on the other side of which, stood an expectant Prison Officer Billie Jo.

And, it was from here, that Prison Officer Billie Jo would presently indulge herself, to the full, in what the Greystone Prison Officers actually considered was the best of all of the perks of working as Prison Officers at Greystone Prison – though they actually did it in the line-of-duty, and got very well paid for doing it – Prison Officer Billie Jo would presently indulge herself, to the full, and avail herself, of Prisoner ‘Foot Service’.

I watched, through shocked and incredulous eyes, as Prison Officer Billie Jo slipped her broad and fleshy, chubby-toed and thick-heeled, and (I assumed, as a direct result of walking around the Landing barefoot in flip flops) dirty and begrimed right foot from her Uniform issue, pale-blue, thin rubber-soled flip flop, and as she then immediately and unceremoniously firmly planted the sole of her bare, broad and fleshy, chubby-toed and thick-heeled, and dirty and begrimed right foot, right into the middle of Ross’ obedient, and compliantly waiting face.

As I continued to stare, aghast, and barely able to credit what I was actually witnessing, Ross firmly gripped the grey-painted bars of our cell with both hands, so as to facilitate Prison Officer Billie Jo with the maximum possible stability, as she relaxed and leaned back against our cell bars, and, as she pressed and rubbed and massaged the sole of her broad and fleshy, chubby-toed and thick-heeled, and dirty and begrimed right foot, up and down, repeatedly, into Ross’ obedient and available face, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do, and as if that was exactly what Ross’ face was for.

Prison Officer Billie Jo then looked over her shoulder and down at Ross, disdainfully, and as if he were a creature from the very bottom of the food-chain, and, she all-but barked her order at him, as if he were an ill-behaved dog who needed to be regularly reminded about just who exactly was boss around here, “Prisoner Ross! Close your mouth!”

Then, I watched, with still scarcely believing eyes, as Prison Officer Billie Jo re-positioned her right foot, slightly, upon my cell-mate’s quiescently accommodating face, and thereby obliging him to inhale the fumes from under and in-between her wiggling and flexing chubby toes, and to smell the concentrated odour of her foot-stink, as her chubby toes repeatedly cupped and un-cupped his trapped and helpless nostrils, and, as Prison Officer Billie Jo did this unspeakable thing, as she casually committed this appalling and atrocious abuse upon Ross, I distinctly heard Prison Officer Billie Jo sigh, blissfully, as though it was a most delightful thing to feel a Prisoner’s air ventilating her toes, as Ross was obliged, with his mouth closed, to sniff under them and in-between them, and, Prison Officer Billie Jo continued to sigh, as if she was floating, languorously and luxuriously, upon sensual – sexual, almost – waves of wicked and supremely satisfying pleasure – the unparalleled pleasure – that came from totally dominating a Prisoner, and from enjoying the feeling of the wonderful and exhilarating power she felt, from aggressively ordering a hapless and helpless Prisoner to assume the Regulation Position, and to perform ‘Foot Service’.

Then, I thought my ears must be playing nasty tricks on me, as well as my eyes, as Prison Officer Billie Jo looked behind her, once again, and as she looked down on my cell-mate, contemptuously and belittlingly, and as she looked down on Ross, cruelly and sadistically, and as she looked down, maliciously and malevolently, at her obsequiously submissive, pitiful and pathetic ‘foot thing’ – for that was all he was to her – and as Prison Officer Billie Jo gleefully and gloatingly ordered my hapless and helpless cell-mate, “Prisoner Ross! Start licking!”

In response to Prison Officer Billie Jo’s shocking command, to my further appalled astonishment, Ross unhesitatingly and unquestioningly began to lick the bare sole of her broad and fleshy, chubby-toed and thick-heeled, and dirty and begrimed right foot.

I was appalled and speechless, yet nonetheless mesmerised, by the horribly fascinating, and heretofore unthinkable sight before me.

I felt a wave of nausea wash over me, as I watched my cell-mate lick vigorously between Prison Officer Billie Jo’s chubby and grubby toes, and then lick the ball of her foot and her arch, in long and wet, paint-brush-like sweeps.

But, enough is enough, and, I had to look away, in revulsion, when Ross began to energetically use his tongue as a cleaning sponge, and to carefully and conscientiously agitate the black line of sweat and dirt and grime that went around the edge of the bottom of her heel, and in doing so, transferring the sweat and dirt and grime from Prison Officer Billie Jo’s heel, directly onto his slavishly diligent tongue. 

At last, I finally managed to find my tongue, and I exclaimed, in shocked revulsion, as I shuddered at the repellent sight before me, “Ross! What the……What the hell? What are you doing, mate? What’s going on? What’s------“

Then, when Ross momentarily turned his face and his slavishly licking tongue away from Prison Officer Billie Jo’s broad and fleshy, chubby-toed and thick-heeled, dirty and begrimed, and atrociously abusing right foot to answer my inarticulate, yet nonetheless unambiguous query, with “It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, all along, David! Oh, if only you would listen! If only you could have kept quiet, just for 2 minutes, while I told you about the ‘facts of life’. And while I told you about the different day-jobs here, and where you might be sent to work: like in the Kitchen; or in the Staff Cafeteria; or mopping the Landing Floor; or sweeping the Exercise Yard; or-------“, my unfortunate cell-mate was ruthlessly cut short, when Prison Officer Billie Joe delivered a brutal back-heeled kick to his nose, which apparently hurt enough, both physically and emotionally, to bring tears of pain and humiliation to his eyes. “Prisoner Ross!” shrieked Prison Officer Billie Jo, angrily, down at my cowed, and tearful and humiliated cell-mate. “You will be silent, when performing ‘Foot Service’!” 

Now, it was the other – blonde, and BBC News presenter Louise Minchin look-alike – Prison Officer Bella Donna, who now cast her chilling gaze into the cell, and she glared at me, malevolently, her eyes glinting like ice-chips, as she coldly demanded of me, “You! Prisoner David! You have been called to ‘Foot Service’! Why have you not assumed the Regulation Position, beside your cell-mate? You will assume the Regulation Position for ‘Foot Service’, at my feet, now! Immediately! At once, I said, Prisoner David!!”

Although I was by now literally shaking with trepidation, in the face of Prison Officer Bella Donna’s icy verbal onslaught, and, although I was quite unable to utter a single word in reply even if I had wanted to, still, I brazenly stared back at Prison Officer Bella Donna, defiantly and challengingly, and I mustered all of the courage I had – and then some! – for my continued silent resistance and defiance, and for my continued refusal, to submit to Prisoner ‘Foot Service’.

Now, Prison Officer Bella Donna’s ice-bound, frigid face struck blood-chilling terror into me, as her deep-frozen words crackled from her mouth like the jagged, razor-edged shards of the thin and treacherous ice of a puddle splintering and giving way under the crushing and intolerable stress of being trodden underfoot.

Prison Officer Bella Donna’s glacial words started quietly, which somehow only made what she said, seem all the more menacing and chilling – and  ominous.

Then, her ice-cold fury gradually escalated, and then surged, into the towering wrath of an outraged and shrieking, ear-splitting crescendo, that had me trembling like a freshly-made jelly, with fear and foreboding, and almost making me wish, that I had meekly and compliantly followed Ross’ example of unhesitating and unquestioning obedience, after all – almost – for I was still determined to remain stubbornly and doggedly defiant, and to resist Prison Officer Bella Donna’s appalling and atrocious order, that I assume the Regulation Position for Prisoner ‘Foot Service’, at her flip flop feet. 

“Prisoner David, I have called you to ‘Foot Service’. I have ordered you to assume the Regulation Position for ‘Foot Service’, at my feet. You have disobeyed me. You have dared to defy me, Bella Donna, a Prison Officer of Her Majesty’s Prison ‘Greystone’.

“Well, Prisoner David! You have just made a very foolish and very costly mistake, I assure you! You have just made the biggest mistake, of your stupid, useless, worthless, pathetic little life, Prisoner David! And for which, you will pay a very heavy price, now, and for many, many years to come! I guarantee it, Prisoner David!!”, screamed Prison Officer Bella Donna, demoniacally, at the very top of her shrieking, furiously outraged voice, her sub-zero words sweeping over me like an arctic wind.

Then, turning her full attention to Ross, Prison Officer Bella Donna angrily demanded of my unfortunate cell-mate, “Prisoner Ross! Did you not acquaint Prisoner David, with the ‘facts of life’, as they pertain to him now, as he lives and serves here, at Greystone Prison, and as I had explicitly ordered you to do so?”

When my cell-mate failed to reply to Prison Officer Bella Donna’s loaded question – the question he had been dreading, and that he knew must inevitably come – Prison Officer Bella Donna continued, icily, “Prisoner Ross! I can only assume from your silence, that you did not!

“I will see to it, Prisoner Ross, that you also will pay, and you will pay heavily, I promise you, for being so remiss and complacent with what little may be left of your future, when you have eventually served your Prison Sentence, and have been released from Greystone Prison.

“I shall be recommending to the Governor – and, I have every confidence in her acting upon my recommendation – that, for failing to obey an order issued to you by a Prison Officer, an Extended Sentence of a further 5 years be added onto your original 25 years Prison Sentence, here at Greystone Prison”.

Then, Prison Officer Bella Donna took a step back from the bars of the cell, and, protruding her bottom lip, she blew, as though to cool her angry, flushed and pinkly-tinged face – the result of her recent verbal exertions, as if the effort of adding extra years onto the existing Sentence of Prisoners was intensely strength-sapping – and causing the loose blonde strands of her fringe to momentarily ruffle and separate.

In other circumstances, I might have found her mannerism quite attractive and endearing.

But, these were not other circumstances.

And now, Prison Officer Bella Donna detached the radio that was clipped to the waistband of her Uniform, pale-blue denim skirt, and her now moderated tones were cool and crisp and business-like, and her blue eyes were as hard as sapphires as they bored into mine, and as she held an unnerving, unwavering eye-contact with me as she spoke into her radio.

“Control! Come in, Control! This is Prison Officer Bella Donna reporting! Assistance required! Repeat, assistance required, at Cell 3 B!” she intoned, in an urgent-sounding, yet quietly controlled, and consummately professional sounding voice that was imbued with self-assurance and imperturbability.

Almost at once, Prison Officer Bella Donna’s radio crackled to life, and an equally urgent-sounding, yet quietly controlled and eminently capable female voice responded, “Received, Officer Bella Donna! Copy that! Assistance on way! Repeat! We have assistance on way, to Cell 3 B!”

Upon hearing this crackly, static-filled radio exchange, my cell-mate observed, in grave and woe-laden tones, “Oh! You’ve really gone and done it now, David! I tried to tell you! But you wouldn’t listen! I tried to warn you! I tried to tell you, didn’t I, about the ‘facts of life’, and about the day-jobs here, where you might be sent to work: in the Kitchen; or in the Staff Cafeteria; or in the Laundry; or sweeping the Exercise Yard; or mopping the Landing Floor; or------“. Ross’ voice of lament and doom was suddenly and violently quietened, as his nose received another viciously delivered back-heeled blow from Prison Officer Billie Jo’s punishing right heel, that started his eyes tearing up again, from a miserable combination of fresh waves of pain, crushing humiliation, and an acute sense of injustice, and, from Prison Officer Billie Jo shouting down at him again, domineeringly and threateningly, “Shut up, Prisoner Ross! I won’t tell you again!” 

Then, outside on Landing 3, the air became alive with the by now familiar and unmistakable, highly irritating and annoying slap-slap-slap-slapping sound, of many pairs of rapidly approaching, thin rubber-soled flip flops slapping against the bare heels of their female wearers, and, with the menacing sound of the Prison Officers’ canes rattling ominously against the grey-painted bars of every cell they passed en route, this was their foreboding accompaniment, in their responding quickly and intently to their summons from Control, to lend assistance to fellow Prison Officers, at Cell 3 B.  

The Greystone Prison Officers (or, as they were colloquially and more commonly known, to both Prison Officers and Prisoners alike: the ‘Jailhouse Blues’) – just as Prison Officers Billie Jo and Bella Donna did – worked and patrolled the Landing in pairs, and, the first pair of hideously hair-styled, thin rubber-soled flip flop wearing reinforcements to arrive at Cell 3 B, were Prison Officer partners Cassandra and Carly.

Prison Officer Cassandra, cane in hand, and wielding her instrument of deterrence and chastisement in an eager, and ready-for-anything attitude of hopeful anticipation, and who, along with her younger and recently-recruited, but already equally enthusiastic partner, Carly, were often the first to arrive at the scene of any reported ‘trouble spot’ on ‘their patch’ – Landing 3 – excitedly inquired of her colleagues, Prison Officers Billie Jo and Bella Donna, “BJ? Bel? What’s going down?”

To which query from her colleague, Prison Officer Bella Donna replied while pointing her cane directly at me, so that there would be no misunderstanding as to who was the culprit, and the cause of all of this ruckus, “it’s another Prisoner – Prisoner David – who doesn’t know his place here, Cassie, and insists upon learning it the hard way”.

Bending and flexing her cane in her hands, as though she was ‘warming it up’, the recently-recruited Prison Officer Carly chimed in, meaningfully, “well, we’ll have to teach him then, won’t we?”

By this time, 2 more pairs of eagerly responding Prison Officers had arrived – canes at-the-ready – at Cell 3 B, totalling 8 ready-for-action Prison Officers in all.

This was the full compliment of Prison Officers stationed on Landing 3 – comprising of 2 patrolling Prison Officer partners for each of the 4 sides of cells on Landing 3 – which was identical in lay-out and in Prison Officer Staffing numbers, to the other 4 Landings above the Ground Floor of the 6 storey monstrosity, that was Her Majesty’s Prison ‘Greystone’.

Now, Prison Officer Billie Jo – with evident reluctance – removed the sole of her broad and fleshy, chubby-toed and thick-heeled, and now saliva-coated right foot from Ross’ face, and she returned her now sticky and slimy foot to her Uniform Issue, pale-blue, thin rubber-soled flip flop.

Then, her demeanour now one of all-business and no-nonsense, she opened the door of the cell with her key, and, she was a formidable and fearsome sight, as she menacingly entered my “home, for the next 25 years”, and as she yelled at me, “Prisoner David! Get out!”

I could only stand there, in helpless dread, and I looked at my cell-mate, Ross, in some kind of mute and futile appeal, and whose silent – he didn’t dare invite another devastating dose of discipline from Prison Officer Billie Jo – but nonetheless profoundly eloquent stare, sent the unmistakable message, ‘I tried to tell you, David. Didn’t I? But you wouldn’t listen, would you?’

Then, we all heard the rather less urgent and hurried, and rather more calm and measured, slap-slap-slap-slapping sound of another pair of flip flop feet approaching Cell 3 B.

The Governor of Her Majesty’s Prison ‘Greystone’, Sylvia Smackham, a woman who I estimated to be in her late 40’s, and who’s concave bob hairstyle had attractive-looking silver highlights tingeing her ash-blonde hair, and who, at that moment happened to be performing her routine weekly-inspection on Landing 3 (though, it was commonly known, to Prison Officers and Prisoners alike, that the Governor’s regular cell inspections, had rather less, to do with performing actual cell inspections, and rather more, to do with indulging her great fondness for Prisoner ‘Foot Service’), had become aware of the reported incident – taking place across the Landing from where she was – when she had heard Prison Officer Bella Donna’s call to Control for assistance, on her own radio.

And, upon seeing and hearing the noisy commotion that was centred around Cell 3 B, the Governor demanded, in sharp and authoritative tones, of Prison Officer Bella Donna, “Officer Bella Donna. Situation Report, please!”     

A perfect paradigm of self-assurance and supreme confidence, Prison Officer Bella Donna responded promptly, and addressed the Governor’s request for a Situation Report.

“Yes Ma’am! This new inmate – Prisoner David – who was brought into custody at Greystone this morning, has failed to unhesitatingly and unquestioningly obey an order issued to him by a Prison Officer – myself, Ma’am – when ordered to assume the Regulation Position, to perform ‘Foot Service’.

“Although I had explicitly ordered him to, Prisoner Ross – Prisoner David’s cell-mate – failed to acquaint Prisoner David with the ‘facts of life’, as they pertain to him now, in living and serving here, at Greystone Prison.

“Nevertheless, Ma’am, Prisoner David’s brazen, bare-faced failure – and, not just his brazen, bare-faced failure, Ma’am, but his repeated, disrespectful and defiant failure – to obediently comply with the express instructions given to him by a Prison Officer, will not be tolerated, and can not go unpunished.

“And so, Ma’am, my colleagues and I were about to escort Prisoner David to the ‘Wheel of Chastisement’, to administer his punishment, of a 5 Minute Sentence, Ma’am”.

In reply to Prison Officer Bella Donna’s Situation Report, the Governor responded, with some animation, “I absolutely concur, Officer Bella Donna, with the findings of your situation assessment, and also with your judgement, as to the appropriate correctional actions to be taken against Prisoner David, and I shall personally accompany you to the ‘Wheel of Chastisement’, to witness punishment proceedings being duly administered.

“As you so rightly say, Officer Bella Donna, the matter of whether or not Prisoner David has been acquainted with the ‘facts of life’, as they pertain to him now, in living and serving here, in Greystone Prison, is quite immaterial and irrelevant, and there is never an excuse – never an excuse! – for a Prisoner to fail to unhesitatingly and unquestioningly obey an order issued to him by a Prison Officer.

“And, to ram home the point, to Prisoner David, I shall be preparing the necessary paperwork this afternoon, to apply to the Justice Minister for a Sentence Extension, of a further 5 years to be added onto his original Prison Sentence, of 25 years – which will be a mere formality, as I have never had an application for a Sentence Extension turned down by the Justice Minister, in the 10 years that I have been the Governor of Greystone Prison.

“Furthermore, I shall also be applying to the Justice Minister, for the same penalty against Prisoner Ross – to add a Sentence Extension of a further 5 years onto his original Prison Sentence, of 25 years – for failing to acquaint his new cell-mate with the ‘facts of life’, as they pertain to him now, as he lives and serves here, in Greystone Prison, as you had explicitly ordered him to, Officer Bella Donna”.

“Ma’am”, replied Officer Bella Donna, “I fully intended to make those very recommendations to you myself, immediately upon the completion of punishment proceedings taken against Prisoner David, and I am most gratified in your confirmation of us being of the same mind, Ma’am”.

“Come, Officer Bella Donna”, prompted the Governor, “we are dilly-dallying, here, and I need to continue with my cell inspections. Please proceed forthwith, and escort Prisoner David to the ‘Wheel of Chastisement. Oh! He will soon know what he can expect, the next time he is foolish enough to fail to unhesitatingly and unquestioningly obey an order issued to him by a Prison Officer!”

Then, Prison Officer Billie Jo furiously grabbed my left arm, and, her spittle spattered my face as she all-but foamed at the mouth with rage, as she belligerently yelled into my shocked face, “Prisoner David! You heard the Governor! Out! Now, I say!”

Prison Officer Bella Donna then seized my right arm, and between them, I was frog-marched out of the cell – out of my “home, for the next 25 years” – by Prison Officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo, supported by the other 3 pairs of Prison Officer partner reinforcements, who poked and prodded me with their canes like heartless abattoir workers harrying a frightened and reluctant sheep to it’s fate, as they escorted me to the place where the “appropriate correctional actions” would be duly administered – upon the ‘Wheel of Chastisement’.   

It was just a short walk, to where the simple, but highly effective disciplinary device – the ‘Wheel of Chastisement’ – was situated: right at the centre of the square-shaped Floor of Landing 3, where it was in plain sight from every Prison cell, and thereby serving as a constant reminder to Prisoners, that they know what to expect, the next time they are “foolish enough to fail to unhesitatingly and unquestioningly obey an order issued to them by a Prison Officer!”

It took just a few short moments, for my eight-strong – nine, including the Governor – party of retributive Prison Officer escorts to deliver me to that devilish device of discipline – the ‘Wheel of Chastisement’.

Now, I was about to find out, exactly, just what was the purpose of the curious-looking, circular, family-size-dining-table-like platforms, that were set into the Floor, with their set-apart footplates, and their 2 leather straps suspended at either end of an overhead grey-painted metal bar, and that were situated at the centre of each of the Landings of Greystone Prison – though I thought, by then, that I had a pretty good idea.

Prison Officer Bella Donna ordered, sharply, “Prisoner David, step into those footplates!”

As soon as I had reluctantly complied, I was firmly fastened down into the footplates by the eager-to-help hands of Prison Officers Cassandra and Carly, while Prison Officers Billie Jo and Bella Donna began busying their fingers with the task of undoing the buttons on the front of my one-piece, boiler-suit-like Prison Uniform, and, as soon as they had done so, they roughly pulled the hideous garment down my body, dragged it’s sleeves from my arms, and pulled it down my legs, until the coarse material of my Prison Uniform was just an untidy and unseemly heap of rough grey cloth draped around my ankles.

And, because the Prison Authorities (for the cruel purpose of maximizing Prisoner discomfort) did not allow Prisoners to wear underwear, I found myself standing there, shocked and speechless, and with my legs set wide-apart – stark naked.

I stood there, and, with my bare bottom and my genitals completely exposed, I was far beyond embarrassment – I felt utterly humiliated – but, my acute humiliation went up several more notches, as the Governor and her Prison Officers sniggered and tittered at the sight of what they had uncovered. 

I had been shocked and humiliated into silence, but now, I felt my tongue loosening, as my rising anger began to eclipse my other, more sensitive emotions, and I finally gave voice to my sense of incredulous outrage, “No! No! Stop! You can’t do this! I’ve got rights! You just can’t do this to me! You can’t------“. My outraged, but futile protestations were abruptly and brutally silenced, when Prison Officer Billie Jo stepped squarely and purposefully in front of me, and, her eyes glinting wickedly, she summarily delivered 2 vicious, sharp and stinging slaps – one to each side of my shocked and disbelieving face – with her meaty palms, that instantly brought forth tears of pain, even more acutely heightened humiliation, and self-pity, “Shut up! You have no rights here! Are you stupid? Don’t you understand that yet? You will remain silent, Prisoner David!” she screamed into my tear-streaked face.   

Then, in fear of further summary reprisals from the meaty palms of the brutal Prison Officer, Billie Jo, I offered no resistance, as the Governor and the party of Prison Officer reinforcements stood by and watched – and were ready and eager to lend their further assistance, in the unlikely event that that should prove necessary – as Prison Officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo roughly seized my arms, and, they stood by and watched, as my hands were forced through the 2 loops of the leather straps that were suspended from either end of the grey-painted overhead metal bar of the set-into-the-Floor platform, and, they stood by and watched, as the 2 leather straps were firmly fastened around my wrists, securing me in place, and, they stood by and watched, until I was left standing there, trembling with trepidation, cringing with humiliation, stark naked, and with my arms and legs firmly secured and wide-apart, like a human Figure ‘X’, upon the ‘Wheel of Chastisement’.

Then, it was the commanding and authoritative voice of the Governor of Greystone Prison, Sylvia Smackham, who spoke next, and formally and officially setting in train – like some kind of impromptu Kangaroo-Court – the formal and official administration of the punishment procedures at hand. 

Addressing me in cold and formal tones, the Governor informed me, “Prisoner David, you have been brought here, because you have committed a very serious infraction – the most serious infraction, in fact – of the Prison Rules.

“For your failure to unhesitatingly and unquestioningly obey an order issued to you by a Prison Officer, I am empowered to apply to the Justice Minister for a Sentence Extension of a further 5 years, to be added onto your original Prison Sentence, of 25 years.

“Also, to help you to learn and to understand your place here, and to help instil into you, the ‘facts of life’, as they pertain to you now, as you live and serve here, at Greystone Prison, and, above all, to assist you to remember, in future, to unhesitatingly and unquestioningly obey an order that is issued to you by a Prison Officer, I hereby formally and officially Sentence you – but, note well, Prisoner David: the chastisement of Prisoners is routinely and regularly done on a summary basis, and is generally at the discretion of Prison Officers, and they are not necessarily required to seek my express approval or permission, to dispense the appropriate correctional actions – I hereby formally award you, Prisoner David, a Sentence of 5 minutes, upon the ‘Wheel of Chastisement’”.

Turning to Prison Officer Bella Donna, the Governor asked her, politely, “Officer Bella Donna. Would you be kind enough to lend me your cane for a moment, while I start the ball rolling, as it were?”

“Of course, Ma’am, with pleasure”, replied Prison Officer Bella Donna, graciously, as she handed over her instrument of deterrence and chastisement to the Governor of Greystone Prison, Sylvia Smackham.

Then, cane in hand, the Governor stepped behind me, and, one tense and apprehensive and trepidation filled moment later, I heard the whoosh of the cane, as it cut through the air at high speed.

There was the sickening sound of a smack, as the Governor’s forcefully delivered cane-stroke hit her chosen target, and I felt a stinging, searing, red-hot pain such as I had never felt before in my life, as the Governor’s expertly administered cane-stroke struck me at the very top of my right thigh, just where the buttock starts.

Involuntarily, and seemingly of it’s own volition, a plaintive, anguished wail erupted from my mouth, giving voice to this dreadful affliction, and, I writhed about in pain and strained futilely against the 2 leather straps that firmly secured my wrists, and that held my arms high above my head – where they could not interfere, with the “appropriate correctional actions” that were being duly administered.

Upon receiving her cane back from the Governor, Prison Officer Bella Donna warmly complimented her Senior Officer, “nice to see you haven’t lost your touch, Ma’am”.

To which, the Governor replied, as she smiled with gratification, “thank you, Officer Bella Donna. The sting of my cane-stroke may soon pass, but the extra 5 years that I am having added onto his original 25 years Prison Sentence, certainly won’t! Hahahaha!”

Then, the Governor pressed the starter-button, and, I felt a sudden jolt, as the ‘Wheel of Chastisement’ began revolving in a clock-wise rotation, that would particularly suit and facilitate the effectiveness of the right-handed Prison Officers – who were of the great majority – to time their cane-strokes to perfection, as my bare buttocks rotated around, again and again and again, to where the cane-wielding, eagerly anticipating Prison Officers impatiently awaited their arrival.

Then, the first stinging, searing, red-hot anguishing pain of the single cane-stroke that had been expertly administered by the hand of the Governor, Sylvia Smackham, was as nothing, as I now found myself mercilessly subjected, to what seemed, a haphazard, random, disorganised, chaotic frenzy of malicious cane-strokes – a bitchy bombardment of bamboo blows.

My distress at the atrocity being mercilessly perpetrated against me, continued to escalate, as the impatiently waiting and eagerly anticipating Prison Officers viciously cracked their canes against my exposed bare bottom – as and when it came within their range – as I revolved around in a clock-wise rotation, on the ‘Wheel of Chastisement’.

Now, less than half of my 5 minutes Sentence had elapsed, but, I was by now writhing about, in a physical and mental torment of pain, anguish, and of acute humiliation, and, my pitiful and pathetic pleas for mercy went coldly unheeded, by the retributive, cane-wielding Prison Officers.    

At first, the cane-strokes of the Prison Officers were administered with much finesse.

Their accurate and cruelly cutting cane-strokes were invariably delivered with devastating precision to my bare bottom, as and when it rotated around to them, on the ‘Wheel of Chastisement’.

But, as soon as I was half-way through my 5 minutes Sentence, the initial finesse and accuracy of the Prison Officers’ cane-strokes, began to go ‘out of the window’.

The Prison Officers – when  the ‘Wheel of Chastisement’ was taking my exposed buttocks out of their range, as it continued on it’s clock-wise rotation – knowing that their 5 minutes of fun was now running out fast, they started to become frustrated at having to wait for my bare buttocks to come around to them again, and finesse, and the accuracy of their cane-strokes,  were replaced by decidedly higgledy-piggledy swings and swipes, as they swung their hopeful and spiteful cane blows at me, any-old-how: at my shoulders; at my back; at my neck and head; at my legs – it didn’t matter to them where, anymore – it had become nothing more, than a frenetic flurry of frenzied female flailing.

And, one of those spiteful, higgledy-piggledy, any-old-how, haphazard cane strikes nearly sent me flying through the roof – like a rocket having had it’s blue touch-paper lit – when it cracked solidly against the point of my right elbow, sending white-hot sparks of intolerably tingling torment right up my arm, and that exploded from my finger tips like a handful of sparklers, in a horribly heightened sensation of ‘pins and needles’.

And, while these “appropriate correctional actions” were being duly administered, the level of noise on Landing 3 was incredible.

There was an unrelenting, uproarious, almost deafening cacophonous bedlam of cheering and gleeful encouragement – from Prison Officers and Prisoners alike.

The Prison Officers enthusiastically and volubly encouraged and cheered each other on, especially when one of their colleagues scored ‘a beauty’ – which was often.

But, the single aspect of this whole outrage that was most inexplicable to me (at the time), was the raucous and ribald sound of the equally enthusiastic and voluble cheering and encouragement of the Prisoners, themselves, who were watching these punishment proceedings from their cells, and, who wholeheartedly welcomed even this diversion, from the mind-numbing tedium of their daily Prison routine – this, for the Prisoners, I would later come to know, was what passed for ‘entertainment’.

But, as bad as things were then, they were about to get a whole lot worse.

Oh! If I had only known what misery awaited me, I would have aborted myself before birth!

As I was relentlessly rotated clock-wise upon the ‘Wheel of Chastisement’, the eager and excited and sadistic faces of the cane wielding Prison Officers, with their hateful and hideous concave bob hair-styles, came and went, at short and regular intervals, and, at every rotation of the ‘Wheel of Chastisement’, I received each of their malicious and malevolent welcomes, and I took their vicious and vindictive, higgledy-piggledy, any-old-how, and haphazard parting shots with me.

Then, in the final minute of my 5 minutes Sentence upon the ‘Wheel of Chastisement’, and, just when I had dared to hope, that I must have reached the apex of my anguish and humiliation and wretchedness, it was Prison Officer Bella Donna, who gleefully disabused me, of my rather fanciful notion, when, with perfect timing, she expertly and mercilessly administered the coup-de-grace.

Somehow, although I at first refused to believe it – couldn’t, believe it – upon seeing the gleeful glint in Prison Officer Bella Donna’s eye, I fearfully intuited her wicked intention, and, sick waves of nausea began to flood my mind and body, in a retch-inducing, bowel-loosening anticipatory tide of dread.

Now, in a fever of desperation, I was futilely trying to close my firmly fastened and securely set-apart legs, when, just as I rotated around to face Prison Officer Bella Donna, for one final time, she was sadistically encouraged by Prison Officer Billie Jo – who of course was fully aware of her colleague’s wicked intention – and who I clearly heard urge, excitedly, even above the almost deafening, clamouring hubbub and over-excited ballyhoo, of Prison Officers and Prisoners alike, “go on, Bel! Let him have it!”

Now, I could only watch, helplessly, and tense myself, uselessly, and pray, pointlessly, as I waited for the awful inevitable.  

I broke out in a cold and clammy sweat, as I watched, in rapidly escalating horror and bowel-loosening terror, as Prison Officer Bella Donna, calmly and casually, self-assured and supremely confident, slipped her right foot from her Uniform issue, pale-blue, thin rubber-soled flip flop, and, as her ice-cold, sapphire-hard blue eyes bored with sadistic and merciless intent into mine, my stuttering and stammering, inarticulate and incoherent, and pitifully beseeching pleas for mercy, fell upon coldly unheeding ears, as Prison Officer Bella Donna let me “have it”, with a perfectly timed, expertly administered, utterly devastating sort of double-flick-kick, and, I distinctly felt the tops of her toes make a crashing and crushing connection with my exposed and vulnerable balls, resulting in an unbelievably catastrophic upheaval of body and mind.

The agony and anguish was of mind-shattering, gut-curdling proportions.

Red and white lights cavorted and danced gaily in front of my eyes, as though in gleeful celebration, and all I could say, was “nnnnnnggggg!” 

Now, all that had gone before was as nothing.

An unimaginable, undreamt of, exquisite, pure and all-enveloping blanket of excruciating agony wrapped me up in it’s cruelly caressing folds, and, the frenzied, over-excited hullabaloo, of Prison Officers and Prisoners alike, reached unprecedented, clamouring and cacophonous proportions of utter bedlam, as they roared their enthusiastic approval, at witnessing Prison Officer Bella Donna’s expertly administered coup de grace, and it’s catastrophic after-effects upon me.

Prison Officer Bella Donna, had let me “have it”, and, she had sadistically and mercilessly and expertly administered to me, her coup de grace, a sort of double-flick-kick, to my exposed and defenceless testicles, the tops of her toes, distinctly felt, in a mind-shattering and gut-curdling connection,  meting out a devastating double-delivery of detonating dynamite, and causing twin nuclear-like explosions, that sent wave-after-wave-after-wave of devastating concussion radiating out from the twin points-of-impact, and spreading throughout my entire body like a raging and unstoppable firestorm, seemingly laying waste to everything in it’s inexorable path, pulsing with angry energy, and flaring hotly and searing, in it’s relentless and seemingly endless and unbearable solar-flare-like bursts.

I knew, that the traumatic memory of the catastrophic effects of Prison Officer Bella Donna’s coup de grace, the pained memory of her expertly and sadistically and mercilessly delivered double-flick-kick, would haunt my dreams forever.

And, I knew, in that very moment – in that unforgettable moment of my sad and sorry history – that, I would, in future, unhesitatingly and unquestioningly obey any order issued to me by a Prison Officer.

And, that I would do anything – anything – to prevent this waking nightmare, these vibrating, pulsing, dully throbbing, surging and seemingly endless waves, of anguishing, nauseating and all-consuming misery, from ever visiting me again.

The ecstatic cheering, from Prison Officers and Prisoners alike, continued unabated, in a rip-roaring crescendo of delighted approbation, at witnessing the devastating and humiliating after-effects of Prison Officer Bella Donna’s expertly and sadistically and mercilessly administered coup de grace – at seeing the awful, beautiful grace of her double-flick-kick, her right foot, flying unerringly right between my securely fastened and set-apart legs, and making a crashing and crushing connection, with my exposed and vulnerable testicles.

And, in doing so, Prison Officer Bella Donna had also double-flick-kicked away, my very last scintilla of resistance, incompliance, disobedience, and “brazen and bare-faced, repeated and disrespectful defiance”.

It seemed, that there was no end to my abject wretchedness, as I was callously left sagging sadly from the 2 leather wrist restraints upon the ‘Wheel of Chastisement’, and listening to the sounds of sick enjoyment, from Prison Officers and Prisoners alike, as they gleefully beheld the ignominious spectacle of the catastrophic after-effects of Prison Officer Bella Donna’s cruel coup de grace, of my gagging and retching, in the seemingly endless throes of wave-after-wave-after-wave of gut churning nausea, and, only by some unknown miracle, not throwing up – and, I mused afterwards, that that would probably have got the biggest cheer of all. 

And, at that moment, I would have done anything asked of me, or given anything I possessed – anything – just to be allowed the luxury, of sinking to the floor, and of curling up, foetus-like, and to be left alone and in peace, to try to contend with and to nurse my unspeakable misery.  

But, such a luxury was not forthcoming, and, as I was left hanging there, and sagging sadly from the 2 leather wrist restraints, upon the ‘Wheel of Chastisement’, in a physical and mental maelstrom of agony, anguish, and humiliation, I clearly heard the Governor – even above the unceasing clamouring vocal racket, of Prison Officers and Prisoners alike – warmly compliment Prison Officer Bella Donna with a generous token of her own appreciation, “and, Officer Bella Donna, it’s nice to see that you haven’t lost your touch, either! Hahaha! Right in the goolies! Hahahaha!”

“Thank you, Ma’am”, replied Prison Officer Bella Donna, in graciously accepting the Governor’s kind compliment.

The Governor added, “in fact, Officer Bella Donna, your good work here today, will be mentioned prominently in my Official Report to the Justice Minister”. “Thank you, Ma’am, that’s very good of you”, replied Prison Officer Bella Donna, gratefully.

To which, the Governor responded, “oh, not at all, Officer Bella Donna. As it happens, Cybil is a dear, personal friend of mine, and, when she receives my Official Report pertaining to today’s incident, outlining the salient details concerning the serious infractions of the Prison Rules, as committed by Prisoners David and Ross, along with my strong recommendations that you be considered for promotion to Landing Supervisor, I am quite sure that Cybil will wish to visit us here at Greystone, to award your promotion in person”.

“Oh! Thank you, Ma’am. I don’t know what to say. I mean, Ma’am, I was only doing my job”, replied Prison Officer Bella Donna, modestly.

To which, the Governor replied, “Well, there’s no need to say anything, then. I just wanted to congratulate you, on a job well done. And, you are fully entitled and deserving of your promotion to Landing Supervisor, I assure you, Officer Bella Donna”.

Then, at last – at long, long last – at the end of the Governor’s speech of commendation to Prison Officer Bella Donna, in fulsome praise of her “good work here today”, and of her promised promotion to Landing Supervisor, I was finally released from my arm and leg restraints, upon the ‘Wheel of Chastisement’.

Wholly incapable of supporting myself on my own two feet, I was unceremoniously half carried – half dragged – by Prison Officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo, with the ancillary assistance of the other Prison Officers stationed on Landing 3, the short distance back to my “new home, for the next 25 years” – Cell 3 B.

And, now that I had been removed from that devilish device of discipline – the ‘Wheel of Chastisement’ – and now that the ‘entertainment’ was over, the raucous and ribald uproar of enthusiastic cheering and encouragement, from Prison Officers and Prisoners alike, finally began to subside.

The assistance of the party of reinforcement Prison Officers, now being a surplus to requirement, they warmly congratulated each other on a job well done, and departed to return to their normal Landing duties.

But, Prison Officer partners Cassandra and Carly, upon seeing the 2 Prisoners in the adjacent cell – Cell 3 C – gawping through their cell bars at the party of jocular and very-pleased-with-themselves Prison Officers, stopped, and glared into Cell 3 C at the 2 unfortunate inmates.    

Prison Officer Cassandra snapped, indignantly, “What do you think you two are staring at?”

But, it was her younger partner, the recently-recruited Prison Officer Carly, who climbed right up onto her high horse, and who ordered, imperiously, “You two! Prisoner Michael! Prisoner Alex! You will both assume the Regulation Position for ‘Foot Service’, now!”

And, in the few moments that I remained on the Landing, I saw Prison Officer partners Cassandra and Carly turn their backs and lean on the grey-painted bars of Cell 3 C, and, each of them slipped a grubby and grimy right foot from their Uniform issue, pale-blue, thin rubber-soled flip flop, and then each of them unceremoniously planted the sole of their grubby and grimy right foot, right into the middle of the compliant faces of Prisoners Michael and Alex, who had by now assumed the Regulation Position for ‘Foot Service’, having unhesitatingly and unquestioningly obeyed an order issued to them by Prison Officers.

And, as Prison Officers Cassandra and Carly had their grubby and grimy bare feet licked clean, by Prisoners Michael and Alex, respectively, they relaxed and leaned back on the grey-painted bars of Cell 3 C, and proceeded to light up illicit cigarettes – a ‘Strictly No Smoking!’ ‘Prison Rule’, that Prison Officers routinely flouted with impunity – so as to enhance the enjoyment of their indulgence – and, which was the favourite of all of the Prison Officer perks, at Greystone Prison – Prisoner ‘Foot Service’.       

Then, upon being roughly dragged back into my “home, for the next 25 years” - Cell 3 B – by Prison Officers Billie Jo and Bella Donna, still giddy from nausea, and still all-but crippled, by the seemingly endlessly lingering, sickening after-effects of Prison Officer Bella Donna’s mind-shattering, devastating double-flick-kick to my exposed and defenceless balls, still, I couldn’t help but notice, that my cell-mate, Ross, who was sitting comfortably – or, at least, as comfortably as it is possible to get, in one of the grim cells of Greystone Prison – seemed to have a small smile playing at the corners of his lips, and, upon seeing that he had my attention, he said, in a mischievous parody of the Prison Officer jargon,  “Welcome back, David. I see that you have been learning all about the ‘facts of life’, as they pertain to you now, as you live and serve here, at Greystone Prison”.   

Before I could formulate a suitably barbed riposte, in response to my cell-mate’s facetious, but good-natured remark, I was pre-empted by Prison Officer Billie Jo, who responded first by screaming at Ross, angrily, “Shut up! You will be quiet, Prisoner Ross! Unless, of course, you fancy a few turns on the wheel, as well as your pathetic cell-mate? In which case, we will be more than happy to oblige you!”   

To which – perfectly serious – threat from Prison Officer Billie Jo, Ross replied, in a small, cowed voice, “I’m very sorry, Miss Billie Jo”.

Prison Officer Bella Donna added, in rather more moderate, though equally cruel tones, “Anyway, Prisoner Ross, I fail to see what you have to feel so pleased about. Perhaps you can enlighten me? You have only been here at Greystone for 2 weeks, and already you have earned yourself another 5 years of our delightful company, with another 5 years Extended Sentence about to be added onto your original Prison Sentence, of 25 years.

“Tell me, Prisoner Ross: how old do you think you will be, when you finally walk – that is, of course, assuming you will still be able to walk, by then – away from Greystone Prison?”

Ross’ face, which, only a few short moments ago, had a playfully mischievous smile playing at the corners of his lips, but was now, after listening to Prison Officer Bella Donna’s cruel words, transformed into a grim and desolate visage of abject dismay, as he replied, bleakly, “I don’t know, Miss Bella”.

Then, apparently satisfied, with Ross’ miserable and dejected response, Prison Officer Bella Donna abruptly and disdainfully turned her back on him, and she turned her full, icy attention to me.

“Now, Prisoner David, let’s see if you have learned anything, today”.

Pointing her finger at the cylinder-shaped holes at the bottom of the cell wall, that looked rather like torpedo-tubes, and that ran under the grey-painted cell bars and under the Landing outside, Prison Officer Bella Donna now issued her appalling and atrocious order – the order, that I was now of course expecting and dreading – calmly  and casually, and with an authority imbued with consummate self-assurance and supreme confidence – which was, of course, a confidence in her knowledge, that she had the dire threat of that devilish device of discipline, the ‘Wheel of Chastisement’, to back up her every command.  

“Prisoner David, you will now assume the Regulation Position, for ‘Foot Service’”.     

JAILHOUSE BLUES continues – and concludes – in Part 3.