story is written by David, please send comments and appreciation to
The Jailhouse Blues Chapter 1 (of 3).
Chapter 1: Len falls foul of the Authoritarian Female Party's
Institution for Male Behavioural Offenders. (L.I.M.B.O.)
2070 (Twenty seventy).
is Len Lightwood, and I am seventy years of age.
Fate has not been kind to me. And so I hope you will forgive the rather
rambling and sometimes vague and disjointed memoirs of a man whose best
years are long behind him.
is still basically sound, per se. But due to the sedative-based 'medication'
that has been administered to me on a weekly basis for almost a year now by
my Carer, Miss Bella Donna, my mind is sometimes not very clear, and often
Nevertheless, as best and as coherently as my egregiously tampered-with
faculties will allow, I shall relate to you some of the more salient, and
profoundly disagreeable events of the past fifty years of my life.
in which my now Carer, Miss Bella Donna, features most prominently ...
eyes of a casual or uninformed observer, it might appear that the two
elderly gentlemen (me and my fifty-years-long friend, Ross Chapman) sitting
listlessly in their power-assisted wheelchairs, each with a rough woolen
blanket draped over their knees and staring at the forlorn images of
themselves in the large mirror on the wall of the L.I.M.B.O.'s residents'
lounge, were just simply waiting, for 'the end'.
these days, is the customary lack of animation in our jaded, timeworn
when our two Carers stood behind Ross and I, and put their proprietorial
hands on the handles of our wheelchairs, that same casual or uninformed
observer might have noticed the sudden change, in our lethargic demeanour.
Might have noticed, the
sudden look of trepidation in our eyes.
Might have noticed, our
unease, so evidently occasioned from being in our Carers' immediate
having noticed our unease, the casual or uninformed observer might then have
noticed the underlying, deeper fear the fear, that has been ruthlessly and
sadistically instilled into us over a coalescing blur of prison-cell bound
decades as Ross and I stared back at the reflected visages of our
respective Carers: Ross's, Billie Jo, and mine, Bella Donna.
reflected faces ... of our nemeses.
L.I.M.B.O. is a
government-run institution, staffed entirely by females ... Females,
of a certain ilk.
to the supervision of aging prison inmates now deemed to be in the low-risk
'F' category, L.I.M.B.O.s Carers are exclusively comprised of retired
former prison officers.
no-nonsense, mature stature ladies who know what's what and are accustomed
to being obeyed run a stringent regime. Rigidly ensuring, that each and
every House Rule of the 'F'-rated superannuated prisoners' 'residential
home' is strictly adhered to subject to their no-exceptions administering
of harsh disciplinary consequences to any non-conformist's slightest
financially comfortable on their generous prison-officer occupational
pensions, most of L.I.M.B.O.'s Carers work only part-time. But some of them,
including my own and Ross's dedicated Carers, Bella Donna and Billie Jo,
work full-time. They love their work: Love 'looking after' me and Ross ...
just as they've 'looked after' us, for the last fifty years.
Donna and Billie Jo, 'looking after' me and Ross has never been just a job.
from the very first day of our having been disastrously deflected into their
orbits (Ross, about four months earlier than me), it has been their
'vocation' ... and continues to be. That they are extremely 'dedicated', no
one will deny least of all, me and Ross.
their early 70's now, Carers Bella Donna and Billie Jo are themselves no
spring chickens anymore. But it's like they've discovered the secret of
eternal youth: they aren't so much aging and declining, as maturing
saying goes these days that 70 is the new 50. And quite obviously there's a
lot of life left in the pair of them yet ... and a lot of mischief, too.
Donna and Billie Jo are still sparkle-eyed. There is still a spring in their
step. They have lost none of their vitality, none of their vivacity, and
they are still lithe and fit and vigorously healthy. Still full of vigour,
with which to pursue their wicked mischief.
And they are both still
attractive, too. Barely a sign
of a wrinkle, and what lines there are on their faces have much more to do
with laughing, than with aging ... And Ross and me are primarily responsible
for that: responsible for giving our now so-called Carers their
laughter-lines, in our so inadvertently having given them both so much to
laugh about, over the past fifty years.
Donna and Billie Jo have told us that "looking after" Ross and me keeps them
young at heart. Certainly, I know that it helps keep them so sparkle-eyed
I've known it for fifty years.
watched Carers Bella Donna and Billie Jo staring with undisguised ill intent
at their subdued charges' wary, mirror-reflected faces, from the tell-tale
glint in their eyes Ross and I knew all too well what was coming next: our
weekly 'medication' jab.
mirror, Ross and I apprehensively beheld our respective Carers. Watched
them, slowly and gleefully depressing the plungers of their hypodermics
until all of the air was expelled, and the familiar dirty-yellow coloured
droplets of the sedative-based drug began spurting from the wicked-looking
hypodermic needles now prepared, in their usual fashion our Carers addressed
Ross and me.
Billie Jo said, Right, you two ... time for your weekly med's. This will
keep you both quiet, and easy to handle. Nice and docile, for us."
heard!" Carer Bella Donna snapped at us, almost before Carer Billie Jo had
even finished speaking. "Come on! You know the drill: drop your trousers,
and pull down your underpants lets see your scrawny bottoms.
daring to hesitate in complying with Carer Bella Donna's order, Ross and I
set our handbrakes, and got out of our power-assisted wheelchairs.
Miss Bella Donna," I respectfully replied, as I unbuckled my belt, and began
dropping my trousers.
Miss Billie Jo," replied Ross, equally respectful, as he pulled his
underpants right down to his ankles, and presented his bare bottom to his
Carer as instructed.
Bella Donna then said to me, "Now, turn around, Leonard. Facing me. Hands
held behind your back."
Miss Bella Donna," I answered respectfully. And I turned around, and held my
hands behind my back, just as Carer Bella Donna had told me to.
Billie Jo said to Ross, "You too, Chapman. Turn around. Facing me. Hands
held behind your back."
Miss Billie Jo," answered Ross respectfully. And he turned around, and held
his hands behind his back, just as Carer Billie Jo had told him to.
always, Ross and I unhesitatingly obeyed our Carers' commands. We obeyed
them without question. And we addressed them respectfully: unfailingly using
the appellation 'Miss', accordant with their fifty-years'-long standing
Bella Donna and Billie Jo's weekly, sticking-it-to-us ritual. Both
metaphorically and literally.
there, and look down at our exposed genitals exposed, at their command ...
and laugh, at our manhood.
our unfailingly obedient, ever respectful faces ... before they needled us.
I could say that Bella Donna and Billie Jo's weekly, sticking-it-to-us
ritual symbolised the dynamic of our five-decades-long 'relationship' ...
but those words seem sort of flowery. Not earthy enough. Come to that,
'earthy' isn't earthy enough.
manhood ... Yes, that was a laugh.
Effectively, Bella Donna and Billie Jo have emasculated me and Ross.
case, I had lost my virginity when I was eighteen ...
a bad looking lad, and I'm not saying I was Casanova but with my outgoing
personality to help things along some I found I was soon enjoying reasonable
success with my female-chasing exploits.
got knocked back plenty of times what eighteen-year-old guy doesn't? And
sometimes a girlfriend might dump me, after we'd had only one or two dates.
I could get pretty upset when this happened, I remember, thinking back ...
It always seemed to happen with the girls I was most keen on; the ones I
felt most attracted to, and who I would find myself thinking about the whole
day long, counting the minutes until I would see them again. I even cried a
couple of times, over these 'lost loves' what eighteen-year-old guy
doesn't? But I don't think my heart ever got actually broken, as such.
Without too much moping, I usually managed to put these painful reversals
behind me, and move on life's too short, and there are plenty more fish in
the sea, as the saying goes.
painful reversal aside, I was looking forward to what I guessed most randy
guys my age were looking forward to: a lively and highly satisfying sex
life, sprinkled with lots of eventful girl-chasing escapades.
could see no reason why that wasn't going to happen. And maybe I would even
fall in love, a few times or at least think, I was in love, and not just
infatuated and so those more special relationships would last a bit
longer, and become more meaningful ... before we split up.
later though, I thought, Miss Right herself would show up. Love, would
happen. I would put a ring on her finger. And then there would be marital
bliss: I'd end up parenting the proverbial 2.4 children, paying the 30-year
mortgage, running the family car, being plagued by the dreaded mother-in-law
and all the rest of the marital shebang.
then until the day I put an engagement ring on a girl's finger I wanted
to have lots of girlfriends. Play the field, as the saying goes. Sow some
tragically soon after its commencement, my liberal sowing of wild oats was
brought to a sudden and permanent stop, upon my (albeit, unwittingly)
falling foul of the new Crimes Against Females Act.
was it: My sex life was over over, when it had barely begun.
there would be no more playing the field. No more highly exciting and
eventful girl-chasing escapades. No more sexual adventures from the casual
and carefree one-night-stand liaisons, through to the more special, longer
lasting and more meaningful relationships ... No more love-life.
would never get to meet Miss Right ... never get to put an engagement ring
on her finger.
there would be no marital shebang, either.
Because of Bella Donna.
the other hand, had confided in me that he'd still been a virgin, upon his
... he still is.
wondered if it was better to have loved and lost, as it were, as I had. And
so therefore know: know, exactly what I was missing. But at least consoled,
somewhat, by my having ... indulged, in the pleasures of the flesh.
Ross been better off? Not knowing. Not knowing what it was actually like, to
'dip his wick', as the saying goes. And therefore not knowing, just exactly
what the heinous Billie Jo had so cruelly and maliciously deprived him of
... Maybe in this case, ignorance was bliss.
course, that is to miss the bigger picture to ignore the real tragedy: As
pleasurable as those callow adventures might be, there is so much more to be
derived from the rich tapestry of life, than 'dipping your wick', resultant
of a successful highly exciting girl-chasing escapade.
I never got the chance to meet our Miss Right and why? Because we were
both ruthlessly cheated out of it.
I missed out on the chance of marrying our Miss Right, and of proudly
raising our kids, and of joyously watching them raise their own kids: missed
out, on all of the attendant heartwarming and spirit-soaring fulfillment
that building our whole lives around our cherished families would bring
and why? Because we were both mercilessly deprived of it.
I missed out, on our marital shebangs. And why ...?
Because that had been
the decree, of our fiendish nemeses the dark and ineluctable ordination,
of our malevolent mistresses: To
hold us captive, and deny us freedom.
the prime of our blossoming adulthood, they had 'claimed' the remainder of
our lives, for themselves. And why? To use us, misuse us, abuse us to
sadistically torment us.
Donna and Billie Jo actually held us captive, whilst we were already held in
penal captivity ... held us captive, as their own, personal captives.
Repeatedly, they 'played the system'.
Donna and Billie Jo repeatedly contrived to extend the duration of our penal
captivity: contrived to extend, indefinitely, the duration of our 'penal
servitude', to them.
For no other reason, than to satisfy their own malicious, wickedly selfish
Ross and I would be made to 'build' our wretched lives, purely around
forced to cherish, them.
forced, to warm their hearts.
make their spirits soar.
they, the stitching-up, nimble-fingered weavers of our wickedly
purloined life's tapestries; the malevolent embroiders of our profoundly
miserable story the inhumane illustrators of our wretched fates would be
our 'pride and joy' ... Our surrogate fulfillment.
Essentially, Bella Donna and Billie Jo have stolen our lives ...
course, the sedative-based medication with which our Carers inject us
weekly, is totally unnecessary.
I had been thoroughly cowed and comprehensively conquered subjugated
fifty years ago, by Billie Jo and Bella Donna.
to heel, they'd called it.
was true. Applicable in both the metaphorical and the literal sense.
effortlessly, the wicked and callous Bella Donna and Billie Jo had
ruthlessly crushed our early valiant resistance to them our early
resistance, to their absolute and uncompromising authority.
very soon patently obvious to us that, in the face of such malicious,
merciless domination, not only was our painfully expensive resistance to
them not just utterly futile, but also, that it was always doomed to an
extremely ignominious failure.
soul-crushing despair, Ross and I had both very soon realised that the game
that this was a 'game' we could never win; that the deck was too heavily
stacked against us.
that Bella Donna and Billie Jo couldn't lose ... because they were holding
all the cards.
I realised, that our valiant, brave heart, expensively-paid-for resistance
to Bella Donna and Billie Jo's power, and defiance of their authority, was a
wholly impotent exercise.
that our defiance was and could never be anything more, than a
just-for-show, face-saving effort: Was nothing more, than a mere token
gesture. Could never be anything more, than a minor delay a pathetic
preliminary, to the inevitable raising of our white flags.
Bella Donna and Billie Jo had brought us to heel forced us, to total,
absolute submission at their feet brutally downtrodden and sadistically
oppressed, right from the get-go, Ross and me were two worms who were never
going to turn.
Bella Donna and Billie Jo's frequent painful and humiliating 'reminders' to
maintain (and even further reinforce) our subjugation, Ross and I had soon
begun to lose heart. Soon became despairing. Soon became hopeless ... Soon
became resigned, to our fate.
I could see the writing on the wall ... And, in Bella Donna and Billie Jo's
very distinctive 'handwriting', it was written in a language that we could
all too easily understand.
dream of revolt, very soon it rarely even entered our heads anymore to even
think of defying the heinously tormenting pair of harpies.
Donna and Billie Jo's vile and vindictive victories, were mine and Ross's
devastating and demoralising defeats.
our tacit acknowledgement of that sad state of affairs, it was through our
henceforth unfailingly respectful, obedient and compliant pathetically
submissive demeanours, that Ross and I had indicated our unconditional
surrender, to our cruel and callous conquerors.
the shadows of the pitiless and malevolent Bella Donna and Billie Jo, has
been our daily lot, these last fifty years.
in constant fear, of their seemingly boundless capacity for cruelty and
malice, has been the staple of our every-day existence.
in ever present dread, of the abominably inventive manifestations of Bella
Donna and Billie Jo's insatiable sadism, has been our nerve-wracking norm.
last fifty years, our only viable option has been to endeavour to behave
impeccably towards Bella Donna and Billie Jo. To scrupulously obey their
every command, in the (more often than not, futile) hopes of receiving less
severe treatment from them.
half a century, we have been "quiet" for them. And "easy to handle". And
"nice and docile". Without even the slightest need for any sedative-based
medication. Because, the alternative ...
course, the sedative-based drug administered to us weekly by our now Carers
has long been available in both capsule and tablet form.
Billie Jo and Bella Donna have always enjoyed 'needling' Ross and me ... and
they certainly have no intentions of stopping now.
that, Ross and me don't need our power-assisted wheelchairs, either.
Remarkably, given what we have both been through, at the hands well,
mostly the feet of Bella Donna and Billie Jo, we are both still reasonably
Donna and Billie Jo have been pushing me and Ross around for the last fifty
years ... and they quite obviously have no intentions of desisting with
* * *
May 2020 (twenty twenty).
Crown Court, south London.
come to where my story really begins.
shall describe the lead-up, and the upshot of my appearance in court.
also include some essential background information, which I hope will imbue
you with some notion of the governmental dictates of the time, and a sense
of the prevalent social attitudes ...
Authoritarian Female Party (AFP), led by their beautiful and highly
charismatic leader, Caroline Flynt, had been elected to govern the United
Kingdom on the overwhelming tide of an unprecedented 95% voter turn-out
General Election victory, in May 2010 (twenty ten).
then, the UK has been a 'female-friendly' country.
Moreover, under the continuing rule of the all-female run government, the
'female-friendliness' theme has been expanding all the time ... While
forever reaching new, male-averse bounds: the ever increasingly put-upon
male population, being put to further and further expense, and to further
and further grievous disadvantage and, quite often, hardship.
many benefits that UK female residents have enjoyed since Caroline Flynt led
the Authoritarian Female Party to power, is tax-free income. Since the
country's tax burden now falls squarely and exclusively upon male shoulders,
working females pick up their salaries tax-free.
so choose, though, females needn't work at all and many choose not to.
After all, why should they? When, as ladies of leisure, they can instead
receive a generous AFP government Living Allowance.
other side of the coin though, long-term male unemployment has become a
thing of the past. Male idleness is simply not tolerated by the
Authoritarian Female Party.
are unemployed for over a month, and also school-leavers, who are aged
eighteen or over and have no work or training to go to upon their leaving
education, are given work-for-your-dole-money assignments, called
unfortunates are sent Letters of Notification, issued by their local Job
Centres. These Letters of Notification advise their recipients as to the
details of their allocated Placements, working as community servants.
years I have heard many terrible, hard-to-believe stories about these
so-called Placements. Where, until they find gainful employment, these
unemployed males are obliged to work under such degrading, demeaning more
often than not, humiliating conditions, to earn their weekly Unemployment
always, in the direct or indirect service of females.
instance: The Sock Room.
An extremely popular
female-friendly concept, the Sock Room was one of the Authoritarian Female
Party's earliest Work Motivation Programme scheme initiatives.
brainchild of the Authoritarian Female Party leader and Prime Minister,
Caroline Flynt, every town in the UK has a Sock Room the larger towns and
cities, usually more than one Sock Room.
Rooms are where the town's females are encouraged to go (not that many of
them actually need, to be encouraged) by the AFP, to change their
dirty socks. They put on a fresh, clean pair, laundered by a community
servant, and leave their dirty socks behind in one of the colour-coded
wheelie-bin style receptacles, for him to hand-wash.
Room is a male-free environment except for the community servant.
Rooms are highly popular, and extremely well-frequented. They are
here-to-stay establishments. These communal facilities have been given a big
thumbs-up, by the towns' and cities' participating females.
the leader of the Scottish Independence Party, Alec Chaddock, had vowed to
abolish all of the Sock Rooms in Scotland in the event of his nationalist
party succeeding in the referendum. But Scottish females, voting with their
feet, flocked to the polling stations in droves to vote No to Scottish
like, sock-changing females can relax for a while on the comfortable chairs
provided (well-padded recliners, even), and put their feet up while they
take a well-earned break from their shopping expeditions in town.
sock-changing females, though, actually look upon their Sock Room as a sort
of social club indeed, it is a hub, to many.
A conveniently situated,
and highly agreeable meeting place, the Sock Room is an excellent venue in
which to catch up on all the latest gossip. Here,
these convivial females happily while away a pleasant half-hour or so
(longer, quite often) with friends. Quite often, new acquaintances and
friendships are made here.
sock-changing females even arrange a rendezvous, congenial get-together in
advance. In comfort, they can partake of the light refreshments they've
brought along with them; sit back, and enjoy their food and drink as they
enjoy watching the community servant hard at work in the town's
sock-changing females' behalf.
sock-changing females even go one further: make a day of it. As though
they've gone to an outing at some theme park.
Certainly, to many
sock-changing females, Sock Rooms are a great attraction ...
sock-changing females, winding up and looking down on the Sock Room
community servant is a highly popular sport. Some of them really
enjoy rubbing it in: enjoy rubbing in the highly humiliating fact, that he
is going to be hand-washing their dirty, stinky socks.
course, some of the sock-changing females (especially, the 'regulars') go
much further than that ... Much, much further.
Room, it seems, brings out the bitch in them.
Rooms are fitted with industrial-standard laundering apparatus. And a
community servant (a male, unemployed for over one month, or a
school-leaver, aged eighteen or over and with no employment or training to
go to) is assigned to work in a Sock Room.
super critical 'supervision' of two cane-wielding female Community Service
Officers (CSO's), the community servant must launder the town's
sock-changing females' dirty socks to a high standard: He sorts, turns
inside-out, hot-soaks, hand-washes, rinses, mangles, clothesline-dries, and
upon his latest workload duly passing muster (the close scrutiny inspection
of his CSO supervisors), he returns the batch of freshly laundered socks to
the Sock Room's ever depleting shelves ... Where they promptly disappear
like proverbial hot cakes; grabbed from the shelves, by the town's
It is a
most miserable, soul-destroying business, for the Sock Room community
By AFP think-tank design
(developed from Caroline Flynt's early brainchild idea), it is an exercise
in sheer, soul-crushing, mind-numbing futility. A
purposefully imposed, heinously devised mission-impossible, for the
out-of-work / not-in-training male.
away, in hot and humid and horrible conditions. And trying in vain
struggling futilely to hand-wash the never-ending and ever-increasing
workload of females' dirty socks, to meet their never-ending and
ever-increasing demand for clean ones.
Fortunately, since leaving school I had been employed in a reasonably secure
Garden Centre job. And so, unlike many I did not live in the constant dread
of being assigned to a so-called Placement, and becoming a so-called
community servant ... and, possibly being assigned to work in a so-called
that's not to say that I could afford to be complacent. Because that awful
fate could actually befall any adult male, at any time ... and we all knew
would need, was for a disappointed or disgruntled (or maybe just malicious
or vengeful) female to have one word in the right ear, and ...
reason or another (whether real, or imagined) many men were constantly on
tenterhooks. Constantly on edge, nervously awaiting the dreaded
manila-enveloped Letter of Notification to pop through their letterbox and
land on their doormat like some 'Please open at once!' letter-bomb ... Or,
heaven forbid, even a rattling knock on the door, from a pair of
cane-wielding, concave bob hair-styled CSO's.
... men just never knew, when a disappointed or disgruntled (or maybe just
malicious or vengeful) female might just decide to have a word in the right
ear ... about them.
years of Authoritarian Female Party rule, the UK's male population were
getting more than fed up with their ever increasingly oppressed lot.
Increasingly, disaffected males most of whom had originally voted AFP, on
the promise of work being found for them were making ever louder noises of
dissatisfaction. Ever more vociferous expression, of their burgeoning
were public protests; even a few organised street marches ... they'd had
enough: the AFP's mission creep, had crept far enough.
Prime Minister Caroline Flynt (still in power after ten years and set to
far exceed even the long tenure of former 1980's female Conservative Party
Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher) had decided that she'd, had
Authoritarian Female Party government's first duty was to protect its female
country's males needed a timely reminder of their place. A timely reminder,
of their station: Their station, in an AFP-governed UK.
Especially so, the cabal of ringleaders.
were the small number of provocative men, who were stirring up such unrest,
and who were responsible for organising the public protests and coordinating
the street marches that were starting to gather such worrying anti-AFP
particular the dozen or so troublesome agitators needed to be taught a
lesson. And the sooner the better, before things started to get out of
Authoritarian Female Party were just the women to teach them: Caroline Flynt
and her AFP government would swiftly ensure that these disruptive,
blue-touch-paper-lighting troublemakers these intolerable insurgents
would have a very public, and extremely humiliating comeuppance.
In a very
public exercising of their power, the AFP had an all-out purge. In a
middle-of-the-night roundup all of these ringleaders and their number two's
were arrested by the AFP's CSO's.
their powers of Citizen Declassification, the AFP stripped these
predominantly highly respected, high-powered executive businessmen of their
Whereupon, Prime Minister Caroline Flynt, and her Cabinet Ministers
Harriet Harmman: Minister for Women; Theresa Maynard: Home Secretary; Anna
Savoury: Minister for Defence; Anita McVale: Minister for Works and
Pensions; Nadine Dorrens: Minister for Prisons and Rehabilitation, just to
name five of the more powerful and prominent promptly 'seconded' these
uppity men into their own, personal service (a twenty-eight-year-old man, a
former Sock Room worker named David Smith, was assigned to Prime Minister
Caroline Flynt, at her own choosing).
formerly high-ranking, highly influential big-cheese figures in the
big-business and high-finance world, were promptly reduced to figures of
former Captains of Industry's euphemistic official title: Cabinet Minister's
factotum. Their new salaries: equivalent to the Unemployment Benefit
payments of a Sock Room community servant.
they weren't busy with cleaning their Cabinet Minister's shoes, or otherwise
occupied with serving her tea and coffee, or with errand-running, the
factotums would be performing their most humiliating service of all: serving
as her under-the-desk footrest.
former ringleaders' number two's were similarly fated: allocated to certain
selected, rising-star AFP junior ministers: A reward, for recent good work.
actually seen this myself, on the AFP's Government Today TV channel ... How
the mighty have fallen!
matter of urgency, to prevent the dangerous possibility of the purge's
resultant vacuum being filled by new ringleaders and their number two's, an
example also needed to be made to the rest of the male population.
A new, ultra-effective
deterrent was called for.
Minister Caroline Flynt announced her latest brainchild: the Crimes Against
Flynt declared her immovable stance, and the rigid position of her AFP
week-long, Monday-to-Sunday series of party political broadcast appearances
on TV, Caroline Flynt made the government's intentions clear, duly advising
the UK's male citizenship of the AFP's intended clampdown.
Crimes Against Females legislation would be effective from 00:01 a.m. on the
Monday following the end of that week's warning broadcasts.
was to be a tough and uncompromising crackdown, the beautiful, highly
charismatic and visionary AFP leader warned the UK's male adult population.
sanctions would be summarily awarded by the courts, warned Caroline Flynt,
against any adult male who was caught and convicted of behaving with
"impropriety" towards a female.
damnedest, cruelest of luck and I still curse my luck, to this day I had
booked that very same week to go on my annual holiday.
my getting-away-from-it-all, much-looked-forward-to hiking and camping
holiday in the Austrian Alps.
my so wanting to 'get away from it all' no TV, no radio, no newspapers,
and with nothing else to intrude upon my enjoyment of the serene peace and
quiet, other than the odd Tyrolean yodeller in my self-imposed seclusion I
had so happened to miss, and so was totally unaware, of the AFP's party
political broadcasts that week ... and, of their dastardly message.
what cost! What terrible cost!
returned to England, my flight landing at 07:30 on that fateful Monday, I
never even made it out of Heathrow Airport, before being arrested but not
by the police.
arrested by one of the much feared, cane wielding, AFP-deployed Community
Service Officer two-woman patrols, who had surreptitiously captured on video
camera my Crimes Against Females transgressions. "Gotcha!" one of them had
exclaimed gleefully, indicating the pinhole-sized lens of her
sneakily-disguised camera to me.
course, I hadn't the slightest idea what the triumphant,
grinning-from-ear-to-ear CSO was going on about. But it made no difference.
She had caught me bang to rights: recorded on camera, my offences were
CSO's then formally arrested me.
handcuffing my wrists behind my back, they escorted me outside and bundled
me into the back of an AFP van that was parked at the kerb. I went
quietly. I didn't resist, or even protest, because I knew that to do so
would only result in them caning me on the spot right there and then, in
front of whomsoever witnesses.
CSO's slammed the van's rear doors closed on me. Then slapping their hands
against the van's side panel in an Off-you-go! gesture, they signalled the
driver to take me away.
that, everything happened so incredibly fast it was dizzying: In the space
of just one day, everything changed ...
exclusively female Community Service Officers are a sort of multipurpose
security force. Authorised with powers of arrest by the Authoritarian Female
Party, the CSO's were recruited and introduced by the AFP immediately upon
the all-female party being voted into power.
in May 2010 (twenty ten). And so, as I was born in April 2000, life
under the rule (under the heel, many say) of the Authoritarian Female Party
is pretty much all I've ever known.
Community Service Officers are also detailed to supervise the Placement work
duties of community servants and, to 'chastise' them as they see fit, with
their AFP-issue canes. To the CSO's, these supervisory assignments are the
proverbial cushy number: easy, money-for-old-rope duties, usually with
plenty of very well paid overtime available.
common knowledge too that, in the matter of correctional punishment, as a
perk of their job the power-going-straight-to-their-heads CSO's are pretty
much given free reign by the AFP: To not only 'chastise' community servants,
but also to bully them, intimidate them, dominate them subjugate them in
whatever manner they like ... The stories, I've heard.
very distinctive uniform, the CSO's are hard to miss: Blue blazer, green
blouse, red skirt, and yellow ankle-socks. On their feet, they wear their
AFP-issue black, thick-rubber soled backless shoes rather like clogs.
Around their waists, they wear their black nylon utility belts.
distinctive, is the CSO's concave bob hairstyle: Straight fringed, and with
the hair cut to follow the jawline, teased under, and cut short at the nape
of the neck.
an attractive enough hairstyle very sexy, even on the girls and women it
suits. But, on the CSO's, their own adaptation of the hairstyle looks ...
menacing. Looks more like some sort of militarist helmet.
all of that's not enough to see them coming, in addition to their highly
eye-catching uniform ensemble and their 'striking' concave bob hairstyle,
there's also the CSO's flexible and wicked-looking AFP-issue canes ... and
the CSO's are always on the lookout for the slightest reason to use them.
a certain breed of female, the CSO's ...
the ink had barely dried on the pages of the Statute Book, when I had
unwittingly fallen foul of the new Crimes Against Females legislation.
within just thirty minutes of retrieving my backpack from the luggage
carousel at Heathrow Airport Terminal 5, I had actually managed to
contravene three of the new laws.
ignorance of the law is no defence ... And so, after having watched and
listened to the recordings of the two arresting Community Service Officers'
video evidence against me, the twelve-woman professional jury duly found me
guilty, of the three cited counts of Ungentlemanly Conduct.
Failing, in the Arrivals refreshments bar while enjoying a post-flight cup
of coffee, to come to the aid of a lady, and offer my assistance in putting
on her coat.
video evidence recording showed me smiling to myself in amusement, as I
watched the increasingly-frustrated looking woman make three failed attempts
to insert her right arm into the aperture of her overcoat).
Failing, in the Arrivals hall whilst on my way to the exit doors, to stop
and offer the gentlemanly services of a relieving foot massage to an
obviously footsore British Airways air hostess.
video recording showed me clearly seeing the haltingly walking blonde BA
stewardess suddenly stop, in obvious distress. Her acute discomfort amply
evidenced by the pained expression contorting her face, she gratefully eased
her right foot from her apparently rather tight-fitting dark-blue leather
uniform pump, and wiggled and scrunched her pantyhose-covered toes in
momentary relief ... But, because there was nothing immediately to hand for
the footsore air hostess to hold on to, and left unaided, by the
nearest-to-hand male attendant me left thus unassisted and precariously
balanced, she'd thereby been unduly discommoded, by said inattentive
attendant, to the point of criminal neglect).
Failing, when asked by a lady standing outside the Arrivals hall waiting for
her lift, to provide her with a light for her cigarette.
video recording showed me apologetically explaining to the lady, that I am a
non-smoker, and so therefore don't normally carry matches or a lighter on
judge, Her Worship Delia Downing, therefore had not the slightest hesitation
in awarding me a custodial sentence: Three months in jail.
Lightwood," intoned Her Worship, in her summing-up. "After viewing the
damning video evidence against you, I am left quite shocked, by your
flagrantly careless and casual conduct. Try as I might, I can find no
mitigating circumstances for your appalling behaviour. Your manners towards
females leave a lot to be desired and that, is putting it lightly.
You appear to have no sense of decorum. No notion of deference. Absolutely
no sense of propriety, where females are concerned. No concept, of what it
is to be a gentleman.
congratulate the jury. Quite rightly, they deemed inadmissible your implied
contention that, as a non-smoker, you are thereby exonerated from your
obligation to carry cigarette lighting-up paraphernalia on your person. And
I must commend the jury. Quite clearly, the members of the jury have duly
reached the correct and proper decision: On all three charges, a unanimous
verdict, of Guilty.
example has to be made ... and so I am sending you to Greystone Prison.
There, you will be taught how to behave properly, towards females," Her
Worship told me.
at Her Worship in astounded, open-mouthed disbelief, I had stood there,
entirely by females, Greystone Prison is a purpose-built correctional
establishment. A doctrinal centre, where you will receive specialised,
training-intense treatment to address the errors of your ways. The errors of
your ways will be systematically and thoroughly drummed out of you. And
teachings, as to how to behave with propriety towards females, will be
systematically and thoroughly drummed in to you."
couldn't be happening!
my legs buckling under me from the mind-numbing shock, I held onto the
dock's balustrade-supported rail, white-knuckled.
will be no remission of your sentence for good behaviour that will be
expected of you, Mister Lightwood," the lady Judge continued. "But, if so
recommended by the Greystone Prison officers, under whose regime you are
being interned, extra time can, and will, be added on to your sentence
accordingly, if you do not conduct yourself as expected by the female prison
couldn't believe it.
just twenty years old. And now, I was going to have a prison record which
meant I was sure to be fired from my Garden Centre job.
seemed so unfair!
one-month's imprisonment per Crimes Against Females offence, designed to get
errant males back in line back in their place, before they started getting
too uppity this was known as the AFP's (Prime Minister Caroline Flynt's
brainchild) 'short sharp shock' penalty.
down," Her Worship Delia Downing had then ordered, sounding bored now, with
two Securi-Fem prisoner transport officers whose uniform consisted of a
white, short-sleeved blouse, black tie (clip-on, in case of any funny
business from the sent-down prisoners), black, above-the-knee skirt, and
black, thick-rubber soled shoes immediately approached the dock with
immediately became wary.
hard-faced exactly, they were still decidedly no-nonsense, capable-looking
women in their early-to-mid twenties. And before I knew what was happening,
they were roughly setting about pinning my hands behind my back, preparatory
to handcuffing me.
Instinctively, I had resisted. "Hey! Get off me!" I protested indignantly.
still, you!" one of the Securi-Fem officers said in annoyance.
remain passive, Mister Lightwood!" Her Worship Delia Downing ordered
authoritatively, her voice immediately regaining its animation, at seeing
such unseemliness in her courtroom.
we've got a lively one here, Sandy, heh heh heh," said the Securi-Fem
officer with the name-tag 'Sonia', to her colleague, name-tagged Sandra, who
was the one who'd told me to keep still.
were strong, and the two of them efficiently restrained me and quickly
handcuffed me they were seasoned officers, used to subduing real criminals,
and rendering them, harmless, so the likes of me was like putty, in
their expert hands.
the cold of the steel bracelets being pressed to my wrists, and then ...
snap! snap! They were clamped shut; painfully tight, totally unyielding.
"That's you sorted!" said Securi-Fem officer Sandra in satisfaction.
cried out but I didn't want to give them the satisfaction of knowing they
were hurting me.
restrained, Securi-Fem officers Sonia and Sandra escorted me out of Sodbury
nice and sunny outside ... and I found myself thinking I'd better enjoy it
while I still could: for the next three months, sunshine would most likely
be a commodity in short supply.
Securi-Fem officers Sonia and Sandra's large, dark-grey painted panel van
was parked right outside at the kerb. I beheld it with dismay.
think I've ever seen such an ugly vehicle. It was like a mobile blot on the
landscape. It seemed to actually darken the day. I was certain that the
hideous vehicle had a second but, no less important purpose: to darken
the day and depress the spirit of those transported in it ... conditioning
them, for what was to come.
I saw a
mischievous look pass between Securi-Fem officers Sonia and Sandra.
Securi-Fem officer Sonia said to her colleague, "Shall we have a quick
ciggie, Sandy, before we take Mister Lightwood to prison?"
Securi-Fem officer Sandra, tight lipped, obviously from holding in a
complicit giggle, nodded.
Securi-Fem officer Sonia then turned to me and said, "Have you got a light,
Mister Lightwood?" And then, putting her index finger to her lips as if
suddenly realising something, she said, "Oh but, hang on a minute ... you
don't smoke, do you, Mister Lightwood?"
the pair of them were bent double with mirth, laughing their silly heads
two of them had recovered sufficiently, Securi-Fem officer Sandra pulled
open the two tall doors at the back of their prisoner transport van.
Inclining her head and pointing her finger, she gestured to me to get
inside. "In you pop, Mister Lightwood."
inside, at the utterly cheerless, unrelieved bleakness of the large panel
van's austerely furnished dark-grey painted interior.
at the prisoner transport van's bare metal roof, walls and floor. And at the
two scratched, scarred and torn black-vinyl faced bench-seats, bolted to the
floor along each side of the van.
Mister Lightwood," further prompted Securi-Fem officer Sandra. "What are you
waiting for? In you get ... and don't drink the cocktail cabinet dry."
Securi-Fem officer Sonia enjoyed a good chuckle at that.
Securi-Fem officer Sonia warned, "Come on, Leonard. Don't give us any
trouble, now. Don't tangle with us. We'll eat you for breakfast and that's
a promise. You are going down, and there's no two ways about it. So come on,
Leonard. Just be sensible, eh? And don't make things any harder for
yourself, than they need be."
come on, Leonard. And don't be all day, either," coaxed Securi-Fem officer
Sandra, taking my elbow. "Once you are safely locked up in prison, you'll be
going nowhere but we've got a schedule to keep to."
right," agreed Securi-Fem officer Sonia. "So don't hold us up. And besides,
Leonard, the sooner we can get you off our hands, the sooner you'll get
those cuffs off your wrists and then we'll all be happy ... I'll bet they
are hurting, aren't they?"
Securi-Fem officer Sandra exclaimed,
derisively, "Ha! If it was up to me, Sonia, I'd hogtie Leonard. I would! I'd
hogtie him, and laugh at his protests and yelling as he rolls about on the
floor of the van as we transport him to Greystone Prison the round-about
"Yes!" agreed Securi-Fem officer Sonia
vehemently. "So would I. And the way you drive, Sandy, that would certainly
give Leonard something to think about! And Leonard would deserve nothing
less for what he did!"
Securi-Fem officer Sandra started tittering,
"What? What are you laughing about, Sandy?"
"What you just said, Sonia. You mean, what
he didn't do, don't you? Remember? Leonard is actually going to
prison, for something he didn't do ... Ha ha ha ha!"
And that was it.
The pair of them were bent double again,
laughing fit to bust. "Talk about irony!" Securi-Fem officer Sonia squealed
delightedly. "He didn't do three things and he's got three months!"
Resignedly and to escape being the hapless butt of Securi-Fem officers
Sonia and Sandra's malicious jokes, and to get away from the tormenting
sounds of their cruel, cackling laughter I climbed the two grated-metal
steps, got into the van, and sat down on the right-hand bench-seat.
Miserably, I sat there with my head in my hands. Yes: I was "going down, and
there's no two ways about it". But, they didn't have to rub it in, did they?
right ... good boy, Leonard," said Securi-Fem officer Sonia in satisfaction,
as she'd watched me drag myself into their dreadful vehicle, and sit down
which, she and her colleague slammed the two tall doors shut behind me, slid
the bolt, and padlocked them.
absolutely hated being called Leonard.
wasn't going to tell Securi-Fem officers Sonia and Sandra that.
* * *
arrival at H.M. Prison: Greystone ...
After a thoroughly
miserable three-hour journey south we'd been held up for about two hours
on the M23, behind the scene of an overturned poultry lorry, and I'd had to
sit there, listening to Securi-Fem officers Sonia and Sandra laughing and
giggling their silly heads off at the sight of the lorry driver, emergency
services personnel, and stranded motorists all running about recapturing the
live chickens and returning them to the righted lorry the prison van at
last arrived at my destination: Greystone Prison.
"purpose-built, female-run correctional establishment" was situated
somewhere in the South Downs countryside in Sussex. The scenery en route was
beautiful. But because of the circumstances I'd found myself in, I was
rendered incapable of appreciating it as I stared out through the prisoner
transport van's dark-tinted side window.
place seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. But in fact it was only a
short, easy-to-get-to car commute from Brighton, on the south coast, where
many of the female prison officers lived.
wrists still handcuffed behind my back, escorting me between them Securi-Fem
officers Sonia and Sandra headed for the prison's security checkpoint
building. There, they would exchange paperwork and relieve themselves of
their custodial responsibilities for me.
security checkpoint was a single-storey wooden building. It was set just
outside of the prison proper, which itself was situated behind fourteen-foot
high, razor-wire topped walls.
Securi-Fem officers Sonia and Sandra escorted me into the security
checkpoint building, and closed the door behind us in the environs of
Greystone Prison, people always closed doors behind them.
Natalie, Melanie," said Securi-Fem officer Sonia with breezy familiarity.
"This is Leonard Lightwood," she informed the two Greystone Prison receiving
officers. The two young women were sitting behind the counter, reading
glossy-paged magazines, and they smiled and nodded their acknowledgement.
going down for three months," Securi-Fem officer Sonia added. "He's in for
committed three transgressions against the Crimes Against Females laws," my
other temporary custodian, Securi-Fem officer Sandra, further supplied.
receiving prison officers, Natalie and Melanie, gave me a disapproving
had their feet propped up on their desks. And I noticed, somewhat to my
surprise, that on their feet they were both wearing a pair of pale blue,
thin-rubber soled flip flops, of exactly the same shade of blue as their
prison officer uniforms.
But, as I
would very soon learn, their pale blue flip flops were actually an integral
part of their decidedly skimpy and, individually-tailored Greystone
Prison officer's uniform: Short-sleeved, pale blue blouse, and very short,
pale blue skirt.
Deliberately cut to be body hugging, their close-fitting blouses and skirts
were specifically designed to emphasise the contours of their womanly
figures, and so purposefully enhance and display their alluring female
attributes to maximum advantage ... to the sex-starved prisoners.
exclusively female prison officers of Greystone Prison, I would also very
soon come to learn, were familiarly known as 'The Jailhouse Blues'.
hairstyle: it was the concave bob.
concave bob ... Exactly, as worn by the ubiquitous and much feared Community
Service Officers (CSO's).
Ridiculous as it sounds, and I can't for the life of me put my finger on it,
but there was just something so ... unsettling, about the hairstyle.
Something disturbing, that somehow instilled those females who wore it with
an air of menace. Making them seem threatening, and overbearing
as worn by the CSO's and the Jailhouse Blues, the concave bob hairstyle
endowed an air of authority. Dark, authority.
feet still propped up on their desks, the two receiving prison officers had
their ankles comfortably crossed. And, seemingly in no great hurry to move,
they were both doing something with their feet, which was causing the heels
of their highly flexible pale blue flip flops to repeatedly slap ... slap
... slap ... slap against the bottoms of their bare heels.
idly chatted to my two escorts, the noises that prison officers Natalie and
Melanie were both making with their flimsy footwear was soon beginning to
get on my nerves. I was finding their repeated seemingly ceaseless slap
... slap ... slap ... slapping very irritating. In fact, it was very quickly
becoming highly annoying.
receiving prison officers' pale blue short skirts were so short, that
from where I was standing at the counter I could actually see right up their
skirts ... and their panties were the same pale blue colour too, I could
finding it hard to look away ... In fact, it was almost as if prison
officers Natalie and Melanie were deliberately letting me see; actually
inviting me to look up their skirts ... Actually inviting me, to get a
officers Natalie and Melanie were both in their early twenties, and both
blonde. They were of very similar build, too. They both had lovely, curvy
figures and shapely, suntanned legs ... And, when I looked at their faces
again, I was highly disconcerted to see from their knowing expressions that
the up-skirt direction of my gaze had certainly not been lost on them.
still, they did nothing about their ... revealing posture, and they kept
their feet propped up on their desks, ankles crossed and kept up that
maddening slap ... slap ... slap ... slapping noise, with their
prison-officer issue flip flops.
As if I
wasn't even there, Securi-Fem officers Sonia and Sandra engaged in saucy,
boyfriend-related banter with the two Greystone Prison receiving officers
... and what they were saying was causing me to blush to the roots of my
while they exchanged paperwork in connection with my transportation from
Sodbury Crown Court, and my admission to Greystone Prison, to avoid further
temptation to stare at those extremely alluring up-skirt sights I turned my
eyes away to stare instead through the security checkpoint building's
here, the prison could be seen. It was clearly visible through the dark-grey
painted wrought-iron entrance gates ... and what a gloomy, thoroughly
depressing sight it made!
As I took
in the grey and gloomy, profoundly depressing sight of the prison's
forbidding and foreboding edifice; took in the actual physical reality of
the place, I stood aghast, and dismayed. I knew that my first sight of the
awful establishment would be etched on my mind forever.
dreadful place seemed shrouded, in a soul-sapping atmosphere of helplessness
and hopelessness. It emanated such an air of desolation ... of despair. It
made my blood run cold, just to look at it: my home, for the next three
for the obligatory banks of powerful searchlights, trained on the prisoners'
exercise yard, and the guard towers, situated atop the fourteen-foot high
walls at each corner. But these typical security features were absent ...
and so their deployment must be deemed unnecessary, I thought, at this
prison looked like some squat (though it was a six-storey building), dismal
grey cube. Unrelieved in its stark plainness, it was an unlikely candidate,
I thought, for any architectural awards.
beholding the awful place, I found myself hugging my arms across my chest
tightly. As if I fancied that small and instinctive gesture of
self-protection might help ward off the dreadful establishment's negative
waves. Such was my sense of dread.
Securi-Fem officers Sonia and Sandra's prisoner transfer business was
concluded, and they reclaimed their handcuffs. And I can tell you: I was
glad to have those damned things taken off my wrists. Securi-Fem officer
Sonia had been right and she knew she'd been right: they damned well had, been
bidding their friendly farewells to prison officers Natalie and Melanie, my
two antagonising escorts mockingly fluttered their fingers goodbye at me,
and sarcastically wished me a pleasant stay in H.M. Prison: Greystone.
which, they left the security checkpoint building, closed the door behind
them, and I was heartily glad to see the last of them ... Except, I hadn't.
moment later, the door to the security checkpoint building opened again, and
Securi-Fem officer Sonia popped her head back inside. "Oh, Natalie, Melanie,
I almost forgot," she said. "Mr Lightwood hates absolutely hates! being
called Leonard: I can tell. I thought I'd just pop back in and tell you ...
I thought you'd want to know, heh heh heh."
prison officers Natalie and Melanie give me
their Welcome to Greystone Prison prep-talk. A prep-talk so incredibly
outlandish, that naturally I'd found it very hard to swallow, at the time
"So, prisoner Lightwood ... Leonard,"
said prison officer Natalie, as she continued to cause her thin-rubber soled
flip flops to repeatedly slap ... slap ... slap ... slap ... slap against
the bottoms of her bare heels. "You like looking up women's skirts, then, do
er, no. I was ... I mean, I was just"
prisoner Lightwood," said her colleague, prison officer Melanie, who was
likewise manipulating her flip flops annoyingly. "You couldn't drag your
eyes away. We both saw you, so don't you dare deny it! Besides, you are
going to find you'll be having plenty of opportunities to do that here, in
Greystone Prison ... It's sort of the point."
again, I felt the heat of acute embarrassment reddening my face. "The
point?" I said, confused now, as well as ashamed. "What is?"
we go into that," said prison officer Natalie, "the first thing you have to
learn, Leonard, is that you must always address prison officers as 'Miss',
before their names. You can see what our names are, from our name-tags.
Failure to address us appropriately will result in your being caned on the
spot, on your bare buttocks. Am I making myself clear, Leonard?"
I couldn't believe what
I was hearing.
thought ... Caned on the spot, for failing to call them Miss? And on my bare
buttocks! This was outrageous. Surely, that was beyond their remit? Surely,
Intolerant of my disbelieving deliberations, prison officer Melanie
uncrossed her ankles, swung her feet down to the floor, and as she came
around her desk to confront me her thin-rubber soled flip flops rapidly slap
slap slap slapped against the bottoms of her bare heels, rapping out an
knew what was going to happen ... I just couldn't believe it.
see what was about to happen, but I was stunned into immobility, too shocked
shocked to move, as I saw prison officer Melanie raise her right hand.
Stunned into immobility, as I watched the palm of her right hand descend at
lightening speed towards my left cheek ... SLAP!
"Aaaahhhhhh!" I cried, at the powerful, stinging impact that, in occasioning
me to stagger three steps back, nearly knocked me over.
couldn't believe it. Prison officer Melanie had slapped my face! And I mean really, slapped
Natalie just asked you a question, prisoner Lightwood!" she snapped
hurt!" I complained, rubbing my sore cheek with my fingers. "There was no
need for that!" I further protested.
officer Melanie yelled, "This isn't a holiday camp, prisoner Lightwood! Or a
leisure centre! It is a prison and Greystone Prison, at that. Next time,
prisoner Lightwood, it'll be the cane. And that will really hurt
I'll make sure of it!
officer Natalie just asked you a question. And when a prison officer asks
you a question, prisoner Lightwood, you'd better come up with a prompt, and
respectful reply. Or it'll be the cane ... or worse. Well, prisoner
Lightwood? Officer Natalie is waiting."
be the cane ... or worse? I thought. Worse than the cane? I really didn't
want to think about that. It didn't bear
officer Natalie is waiting!" shrieked prison officer Melanie.
right! All right! I thought but didn't say.
to prison officer Natalie, I said, reluctantly and resentfully, "Yes. You
are making yourself clear ... Miss Natalie."
sure I like your tone, Lightwood," said prison officer Melanie in a menacing
tone. "I think you need straightening out."
still facing me, as though waiting for me to say just one more word out of
line as though waiting for the slightest excuse to slap my face again.
When I didn't say another word; didn't provide her with an excuse to
straighten me out a bit more, she said, "Oh, you will soon be whipped into
shape in here, Lightwood. You'll soon lose the attitude ... you just mark my
words," she predicted chillingly.
better start watching my step here, I thought to myself. Prison officer
Melanie was starting to make it personal. I noticed she had stopped calling
me prisoner Lightwood, and she was now addressing me just by my
surname and derisively emphasising the first part of my name: making heavy
of the Light, in Lightwood, as it were.
officer Natalie then asked me, "Leonard, do you know why you have been
brought to Greystone Prison I mean, brought here especially, instead of
being sent to some other jail?"
so, Miss Natalie," I replied, taking care now to eradicate from my voice as
best as I could any giveaway hint of my resentment of their unnecessarily
harsh treatment of me.
judge at Sodbury Crown Court told me that my manners towards females leave a
lot to be desired. She said I have no sense of propriety. So she was sending
me here, she told me, to learn how to behave appropriately towards females.
In Greystone Prison, she said, the errors of my ways would be thoroughly
drummed out of me. And teachings, as to how to behave with propriety towards
females, would be thoroughly drummed into me, by the female prison officers
agreed prison officer Melanie. "Yes, that is what is going to happen. But,
do you know, exactly, what is going to happen to you, Lightwood?
no, I don't, Miss Melanie. The lady judge didn't exactly say."
officer Melanie's eyes gleamed. "Good. Because now I, shall have the
pleasure of telling you," she said with great relish. "You are going to be a
foot servant, Lightwood. You are going to serve at the feet of female prison
officers. Just like every other prisoner sentenced to serve here, for
time or another during your imprisonment here, you will have gotten to serve
us all. And that is something you can count on we'll make sure of it.
However short a prisoner's stay with us may be, we always ensure that he has
been made to serve each and every one of us, during his time here. And, some
of us, a prisoner will have served many times, before he leaves us. Because
sometimes, a prison officer might take a certain fancy, to a particular
prisoner ... Lightwood."
couldn't believe what I was hearing.
couldn't believe what prison officer Melanie had just told me: I was going
to become a ... foot servant? To the prison officers? And, before I
got out of this damned place, they would ensure that I had got to "serve at
the feet" of every one of them? Some of them, many times because some of
them might "take a certain fancy" to me?
in satisfaction at my slack-jawed, incredulous expression, prison officer
Melanie went on with zeal. "To be more precise, you will actually be worshiping,
our feet, Lightwood.
means of initiating, and then gradually instilling into you, the concept of
propriety that is to say: first, kick-starting your barely evolved notions
of decorum, respect, and deference, towards females, and then systematically
developing them every day, you will be made to worship our feet.
"Particularly, the soles of our feet.
"Primarily, this will involve you kissing our feet, inhaling our foot scent,
and also oral servitude, as instructed.
"Primarily, your oral servitude to us will entail sucking on and licking in
between our toes; licking our soles; and licking and sucking on the bottoms
of our heels. Again, there will inevitably be instructional variations,
since, as you might expect, different prison officers will require different
Foot Service attentions from you.
"Generally, you will perform your servitude exactly as you are instructed,
by prison officers. While occasionally, to show us what stage you have
reached, on your evolutionary journey, prison officers will give you free
reign, to allow you the opportunity to independently demonstrate your state
way, myself and officer Natalie, and every other prison officer in Greystone
Prison, will turn your ideas around.
allowing you and encouraging you no, by tempting you, and inciting you
to desire and lust after our bodies, while allowing you only to serve at and
service our feet, though acting as a collective, we will all play an
integral role in the refocusing of your aberrant mindset: We will all play
our own, individual part, in imbuing you with a sense of propriety towards
was in a whirl.
officer Melanie was making me feel dizzy. All topsy-turvy. I just couldn't
get my head around all of the things she was saying to me. Such crazy
things. I mean, was she for real? She couldn't be!
officer Natalie said, "Actually, Mel ... why don't we have Leonard for
lunch, tomorrow? I'll book us a slot in the Staff canteen, shall I? For
twelve-thirty till one o'clock. How does that sound?"
sounds great, Nat," said prison officer Melanie eagerly. "I'll enjoy showing
prisoner Lightwood a thing or two; show him that I can walk the walk, as
well as talk the talk. Oh yes, I'll really enjoy giving him a ... taste, of
just what is in store for him here for the next three months."
it done, Mel," replied prison officer Natalie with equal relish, writing the
memo in a spiral-bound notepad on her desk.
agree with you, Mel: I don't like Leonard's tone either. I definitely
detected a note of insolence, when he spoke back to me. Like you said, Mel,
he needs to lose the attitude and fast. And we can help him with that."
agreed prison officer Melanie. "I'll very much enjoy initiating him to
Prisoners' Canteen Service ... It's always nice to be the first, isn't it?
The first to make them realise, just exactly what they've got coming to
them. In fact, I'm already really looking forward to it; looking forward to
having his disrespectful face at my feet and under them. He's going to get
the shock of his life, Nat, when he gets his first whiffs of our stinky bare
feet and finds there's not a thing he can do about it! Not to mention,
performing Foot-Cleaning Duties for us while we have our lunch!"
enter our booking into the computer, Mel, just as soon as Leonard is taken
off our hands. Table six, if it's still available: being fairly central,
there's also a good view of what's going on with prisoners under most of the
other tables, too."
officer Melanie then returned her attention to me.
"So, something for you
to look forward to already, Lightwood: a lunch date, tomorrow, with two
lovely young ladies ... Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes ... Very often,
Lightwood, prison officers, patrolling the Wings in pairs, may simply use
prisoners' faces as convenient footrests while they idle away a little
time. This is
the common in fact, the customary, practice here," prison officer
Melanie informed me.
...? I thought.
I thought: Ah ... Now I get it: They are winding me up! That's all. Trying
to get me going. They just have to be!
probably do this to new prisoners, I thought, when maybe things are a bit
slow, and they feel like having a laugh. To give the new inmates a bit of a
worshiping the prison officers' feet? Come off it! Who ever heard of
such an outrageous, diabolical practice? Prison officers Natalie and Melanie
were talking a load of tosh none of these things could really actually
happen! They were talking a lot of bunkum. Obviously!
were procedures and protocols; measures in place, to prevent abuse of
prisoners. Weren't there? I mean, just the very idea of it, was completely
off the wall. Completely
to Lightwood ..." said prison officer Melanie, breaking into my musings. "Do
you hear what I'm saying, Lightwood? Or do you need another slap, to wake
you up ...? While you are locked up in your cell, day after day, prison
officers will often call you to Foot Service, to break the monotony
theirs, that is. And it could be at any time. Day or night. And you and
your cellmate too, if that is the requirement of the prison officers will
respond immediately. Or it'll be the cane ... or worse.
"Presenting yourself to the summoning prison officers, you will make your
face available to them for Footrest Duties and, for any other Foot Service
duties, for that matter, that the prison officers may wish to avail
be the case, that the prison officers require you to massage their feet. In
which case, they will insert their feet between the bars of your cell, for
you to be able to perform your foot-massage services. You will first pass
through to the prison officers the two folding-seats from your cell so that
they can sit down. And you and your cellmate will then perform your
foot-massage services for them, whilst on your knees.
may be the case and, this would be most likely that your oral services
are required by the prison officers.
latter case, the prison officers will order you to Assume the Position. How
you are to do this, will be shown to you when you are taken to your cell; no
doubt, your cellmate will demonstrate to you the ... ins and outs, of it."
reason, prison officer Natalie had a little chuckle at that.
really think, for one moment, that I was actually being taken in by them? I
thought. That I was fooled, by their utter codswallop? That I was actually
swallowing all of their fantastical poppycock? That I could be hoodwinked,
officer Melanie continued, "Once you have assumed the position, Lightwood,
the prison officers will then restrain you by securing your wrists, arms
apart, in the bracelets set into the bars of your cell. And then, as
instructed, you will duly provide your oral services to their feet.
it will be a nice, refreshing tongue-bath, for them. And then ... who knows?
The prison officers may then release you, and let you go back to bed, if its
night-time ... Or, maybe they won't. It all depends, doesn't it ...?
Lightwood, the prison officer on Night Duty at whose feet you've served will
be of the opinion that you didn't show sufficient willing, on this occasion.
That your heart simply wasn't in it, this time. And that you are in danger
of stalling, on your road to rehabilitation ... And hers, Lightwood, as you
will do well to remember, is the only opinion that counts.
she may just leave you there, restrained to the bars of your cell ... for
next time. A convenient footrest, all ready and available for the next
prison officers who come along so that they needn't have to trouble
themselves with the tiresome business of ordering you out of your bed, all
sleepy-headed, in the middle of the night.
she's patrolling the Wings on your Level all night, maybe she'll just leave
you there, all muddle-minded and miserable from lack of sleep. Leaving your
face available for her own, personal convenience, ready and waiting for each
time she completes another circuit of her Wing patrol and to give you the
opportunity to try and redeem yourself for your earlier lacklustre
expressions of due propriety, and to make it up to her."
officer Natalie said, "And I'll tell you something, Leonard. For getting off
on the wrong foot, with us both, that is exactly what me and officer Melanie
are going to do to you the next time we are on Night Duty: deprive you of
sleep. Have you any idea, just how horrible that is? Well, I promise you
now, Leonard, officer Melanie and me will make sure that you find out and,
trust me: we've got the perfect 'smelling salts', to keep you awake with. We
both hate Night Duty. And, well, if we can't get a good night's
sleep, why should we let ill-behaved prisoners like you sleep? That's
what we say. And it would be a long, long night for you, Leonard. A long,
long night, of making it up to us."
yeah, I thought but didn't say.
officer Melanie resumed, "So, Lightwood ... you had better make sure that
you always satisfy the prison officers, when they call you to Foot Service.
Make sure that you show some willing; an eagerness to please. Try to make
evident, some discernible sign of your progress. Above all, you will need to
convince prison officers that your heart is in it.
way, Lightwood, you will inevitably learn what you so badly need to learn.
It's a steep learning curve, yes. But, over time, as you are routinely
subjected to our methods and practices, you will learn. And you will learn
well. As, day after day, at the feet of female prison officers, a sense of
propriety is relentlessly and thoroughly drummed into you," prison officer
Melanie told me.
sense of propriety will inevitably further develop," she went on. "And
continue to evolve, as our teachings start to become ingrained, and you are
gradually imbued with the due deference to females that you so clearly lack
at the present time.
in the future, you will at all times demonstrate the requisite reverence to
females that today's society demands. Because it will have become second
nature, to you, to duly conduct yourself with such unthinking attention and
unfailing adherence to the prescribed protocols of male behavioural
propriety: Due deference, due decorum, due respect, due reverence due
propriety an automatic response ... Do you see, Lightwood?"
could not believe my ears ... What a load of absolute hogwash! I thought.
could understand being required to respectfully address prison officers as
'Miss'. That would be de rigueur in a prison environment, and was only to be
expected, I supposed.
though I had been somewhat surprised and shocked by it, even prison officer
Melanie's harsh, summary face-slapping discipline didn't seem too much out
of place or out of order, either.
even thought that the prison officers' on-the-spot use of their canes, in
the event of that putting-their-foot-down, extra disciplinary enforcement
measure being called for, was exactly over the top.
the rest of it?
this Foot Service, and Assume the Position nonsense?
Prisoners' Canteen Service, with their under-the-table Foot-Cleaning
prisoners' faces, routinely being used as convenient footrests for the
Wing-patrolling prison officers, as was the "customary practice" here?
Night Duty prison officers actually depriving prisoners of their sleep?
the extent of keeping them awake, all night long ("and, trust me: we've got
the perfect 'smelling salts', to keep you awake with"), with their wrists
restrained to the bars of their cell, if their middle-of-the-night Foot
Service their foot worship performance was deemed not up to
their heart wasn't in it?
maybe, as in my case, for "getting off on the wrong foot", with prison
prison officers Natalie and Melanie really think I was actually swallowing
their load of old cobblers? I could imagine them both having a right old
laugh, as soon as I stepped out of the security checkpoint building. And
later sharing the joke, at tea-break with their prison officer colleagues.
Miss Melanie," I said. "I see."
officer Natalie then switched on her desk microphone and spoke into it.
"This is Control ... A new prisoner has just arrived: Leonard Lightwood,
aged twenty. He's in for three Crimes Against Females transgressions. Three
months, for Ungentlemanly Conduct. Requesting two officers to escort him to
his cell: Cell sixteen Level One. Over."
a brief crackle of radio static, and then a crisp, no-nonsense sounding
voice replied: "Control, received. This is officer Bella Donna. Officer
Billie Jo and I have just finished our tea break, and are now leaving the
Staff canteen. We can attend. ETA two minutes. Over."
officer Natalie replied, "Received, officer Bella Donna. Thank you. Please
attend. Over and out."
"Here, Lightwood, these are for you," said
prison officer Melanie, handing me a clear plastic bag containing two dark
grey T-shirts, two pairs of dark grey shorts, and what looked like a pair of
dark grey soft-fabric slippers. I could see that, printed on the front of
one of the T-shirts in bold black letters, was: Prisoner Leonard Lightwood:
Cell 16 Level 1.
"Those are what you will be wearing from now
on," prisoner officer Melanie told me. "It's the same uniform that is issued
to community servants except for the colour; theirs is white. And
obviously the footwear is different. Prisoners here are issued with bootees:
they are nice and quiet, and are of little use as offensive weapons. Change
into your prisoner's uniform in your cell. Put your street clothes, shoes,
and any jewellery you are wearing, including your wristwatch, in the bag.
Someone will collect them later. You will get the items back, upon your
release from prison."
Just then, the door of the security
checkpoint building opened again, and in walked two cane-wielding Greystone
Prison officers. According to their name-tags, they were officers Bella
Donna and Billie Jo.
Upon her setting eyes on me, prison officer
Bella Donna looked me up and down, giving me the once-over. She didn't seem
very impressed with what she saw. Turning to the two receiving officers, she
said, "Humph," which was obviously her considered opinion of me.
Prison officer Bella Donna then asked prison
officers Natalie and Melanie, "Does he know what's in store for him? Have
you told him?"
Oh-oh, I immediately thought to myself. She's
one to be wary of, this prison officer Bella Donna.
I knew it instinctively. I could sense it
straight away, just from the look of her; just from my first impression. And
upon hearing her speak, she had left me in absolutely no doubt. It wasn't so
much what she'd said, because she hadn't said much. But it had been enough.
Quite enough. There'd been enough, in her voice, to tell me all I needed to
know. Enough, to get an irrefutable, unshakable sense of her nature.
I'd heard it said that fear can have the
effect of causing the hairs on the backs of people's necks to stand up, and
I'd always thought it was a myth, just some melodramatic nonsense. But now,
I found that the hairs on the back of my own neck were urgently standing to
It was as if prison officer Bella Donna had
set off some kind of ... motion sensor, impossible-to-ignore deafening
klaxon alarm inside my head, urgently alerting me to the highly perilous
nearness of some dire threat.
And prison officer Billie Jo was the same.
It was obvious. I had never been so certain
of anything in my life. Prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo were both
cast from the same mould or from the same mouldy DNA: Their double-helix,
heinously configured; their chromosomes, chronically corrupted ...
Two peas, from the same rotten pod.
second impossible-to-ignore, deafening klaxon alarm was going off inside my
head, urgently resounding and reverberating another dire warning.
the pair of them, I immediately felt a gnawing apprehension. Holding eye
contact with them, definitely not a good idea.
their militarist-helmet like concave bob hairstyle, they were even more
affecting, even more unsettling even more frightening.
officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo were both in their early twenties, only a
couple of years older than me.
it said that beauty is only skin deep ... and now, just like the
hairs-on-the-back-of-the-neck thing, to my acute discomfort I was also
finding out that this was no myth, no melodramatic nonsense, either.
Donna was very attractive. And, If you could see beyond the decidedly
off-putting prison officer's concave bob hairstyle which, in her case, I
definitely could then you really had something to look at. She was
stunning: platinum-blonde, blue-eyed, and her peaches and cream complexion
was lightly suntanned. She was about five foot nine and slim, but
curvaceous-figured. And, if she had million-dollar legs, well, I can only
say you'd be getting them cheap at the price. But, these admittedly alluring
attributes, sensational as they were, were no kind of counterbalancing
recompense for her manifestly deleterious downside ... and, with Bella
Donna, the downside usually won out.
was extremely attractive too, I thought. But in a different way; she had a
touch of the exotic about her. Black-haired, dark-brown eyed and
olive-complexioned, she was about five foot six, and quite trim; though she
was bigger-boned than Bella Donna, and rather more full-figured.
like Bella Donna, just one icy look from Billie Jo could cause any Greystone
prisoner to instantly break out in a cold sweat, and turn his blood to
Donna won in the legs' department, Billie Jo certainly won in the breasts'.
And, as for their infamous abilities in scaring the crap out of prisoners
(quite literally, in some reported cases), just at the sight and sound of
their approach ... probably a tie.
Replying to prison officer Bella Donna's
questions, prison officer Natalie replied, "Yes, Bel. We've told him; he
knows. At least, Mel and me have given him some gist; a general idea, of
what his time in Greystone Prison is going to be like. But he seemed a bit
dazed by it all; didn't seem able to take it all in. So I don't know how
much of what we have told him about his situation has actually sunk in. And
anyway, it never prepares them for the experience, does it? You know, the
actual realities, of being made to worship prison officers' feet."
Prison officer Billie Jo said, "Well, we'd
best get him started then, hadn't we? Start getting him coming to terms,
with the actual realities. And the sooner the better, if he's only in for
I could hardly believe my eyes and ears.
Replying to prison officer Melanie, prison
officer Billie Jo had remained totally straight-faced, and had spoken in a
completely matter-of-fact tone of voice ... They all seemed to be in on it,
these prison officers, with their for-a-laugh, ridiculous in-joke conspiracy
of prisoner-scaring arrant nonsense. Anyway, I thought, I'd soon learn the
Prison officer Bella Donna opened the door to
the security checkpoint building, and said her first words to me. "Prisoner
Lightwood! Out!" she snapped authoritatively.
Without saying anything, I began moving
towards the door as instructed.
"Lightwood!" yelled prison officer Melanie,
almost making me jump out of my skin. "What did I tell you? I have told you
how to respond, when you are addressed by a prison officer!"
Hell! There's no need to shout! I thought
but didn't say.
Besides, prison officer Melanie was right: I
should have remembered. This wasn't the sort of place where you were given
many second chances; so much, was already beginning to sink in. And I was
considering myself lucky that prison officer Melanie hadn't slapped my face
again hadn't straightened me out a bit more.
And I was really going to have to watch my
step, with these two prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo. They both
looked is if they would as soon whup you as look at you prefer, to
whup you, in fact.
Turning to prison officer Bella Donna, I said
respectfully, "Yes, Miss Bella Donna." And then I started walking towards
the door again.
"See you tomorrow lunchtime then, Leonard,"
jibed prison officer Natalie. "I hope you'll like what's on the prisoners'
"I think it's sole, tomorrow," quipped prison
"Ha ha ha!" laughed prison officer Natalie.
"Yes, Mel. It always is, isn't it? The prisoners' Daily Special!" she
At seeing prison officers Bella Donna and
Billie Jo's querying expressions, prison officer Natalie explained. "We've
bagged Prisoners' Canteen Service 'firsts'. We're having Lightwood for
lunch, tomorrow, Mel and me."
"Bon appetit," said prison officer Bella
prison officers Bella
Donna and Billie Jo escort me to my cell: Cell 16 Level 1 ...
Outside the security checkpoint building,
prison officer Billie Jo addressed me brusquely.
"Prisoner Lightwood. As we escort you to your
cell, on Level One, you will walk three paces behind officer Bella Donna,
and I will walk behind you. As you proceed, you will respectfully direct
your eyes downward, at all times focusing your attention on officer Bella
Donna's feet. I will be monitoring you. And if, at any time, I see that you
are diverting your attention from officer Bella Donna's feet whether she
be walking, or stationary we will both cane you on the spot. Do you
understand me, prisoner Lightwood?"
I couldn't believe this. What the hell next?
But I'd already sensed that prison officers
Bella Donna and Billie Jo were definitely not to be messed with.
"Yes, Miss Billie Jo," I said respectfully.
"I understand you."
With that, prison officer Bella Donna started
walking the short distance to the prison, and I got into step, walking three
paces behind her.
never felt so ridiculous as, as instructed by prison officer Billie Jo, I
respectfully directed my gaze downward, at the heels of prison officer Bella
Donna's feet; the bottoms of which, were decidedly grubby.
her alternately flashing soles, and listening to her pale blue, thin-rubber
soled flip flops repeatedly and annoyingly slap ... slap ... slap ...
slapping against the bottoms of her grubby bare heels with precise
regularity as she walked sedately towards the prison, I was soon struggling
to maintain my focus of attention. Soon struggling with my enforced
discipline, as the effort of not allowing my eyes to wander from their
accorded subjects became ever more increasingly difficult to sustain ... But
I made it.
three or four minutes, we were 'inside'.
ground floor of Greystone Prison, were situated the Governor's office,
administration office, the prison doctor's surgery, the prison laundry, the
kitchen and the Staff canteen not that I noticed, at the time, since the
focus of my attention had been respectfully directed downwards, upon prison
officer Bella Donna's walking feet.
the basement, was the prison officers' gymnasium. There was a bar down
there, too, where prison officers could enjoy a post-shift drink in
congenial company before heading off home.
down there, in the basement area, was the Foot-Massage Room. This was where
the prison officers went to get the services of a prisoner's proper,
conventional hands-on foot massage. The Governor herself was an occasional
visitor, though she would more often call for a prisoner (or two) to be
escorted to the privacy of her Governor's office, to avail herself of
prisoners' Foot Service ... I would come to know this, from personal
prison laundry and the kitchen were two of the places where prisoners were
assigned work duties ... the lucky ones, that is.
on the upper five floors (Levels) of the square-shaped building, Greystone
Prison has 120 cells.
Levels are numbered: 1 - 5. And there are twenty-four cells on each Level,
numbered: 1 - 24.
Level has four Wings: North, South, East, and West: six cells, to each of
the four Wings.
the five Levels has a contiguous safety-railed walkway. And central to these
Wing-to-Wing walkways is an overlook, below which safety-netting is
there are two lifts one on the east side of the building, the other on the
west the five Levels are also accessed by means of the similarly situated
dark-grey painted steel stairways.
then, prisoner Lightwood," said officer Billie Jo. "You will now follow
officer Bella Donna up this flight of steps, and I will follow behind you.
Wait until her feet are at your eye level, and then follow her."
the ...? I thought. Just how long were they going to keep up their silly
Miss Billie Jo," I said respectfully.
climbed the flight of steps, with my eyes on a level with prison officer
Bella Donna's feet; her flip flops, repeatedly slap slap slap slapping
against the bottoms of her grubby bare heels, right in front of my face, I
suddenly realised that I had only to divert my eyes very slightly upwards,
and I had the most incredible view: right up prison officer Bella Donna's
pale blue short skirt!
it impossible not to look. ("... by allowing, and encouraging you no, by
tempting, and inciting you to desire and lust after our bodies ...")
Impossible not to look, as I climbed the steel stairway after her.
Impossible not to stare, at prison officer Bella Donna's pale-blue-panties
clad bottom. What a sight! It made me wish I was celled-up on Level 5!
I climbed up the dark-grey painted steel stairs ... towards my waiting
sneaky peek, wasn't enough. I seemed to have lost all sense of shame all
sense of propriety! And, I found myself thinking with disappointment and
dismay, she would soon reach the top of the flight of stairs, and then the
exciting little up-skirt peep-show would be over.
me, but despite Bella Donna's patently obvious and wholly insurmountable
downside, she was still some kind of woman.
I was a
young, hot-blooded male, and I found the awesomely exciting view
irresistible. I was coming over all flushed. All flustered. Getting all hot
and bothered. I was all but drooling, upon ogling the highly arousing sight:
the highly arousing sight, of prison officer Bella Donna's pale-blue-panties
still focusing your attention upon officer Bella Donna's feet, prisoner
Lightwood?" came prison officer Billie Jo's voice, right behind me, when we
were about three-quarters of the way up the flight of stairs.
Yes, Miss Billie Jo," I fibbed.
focusing your whole, entire, undivided attention upon her feet, just like I
told you, prisoner Lightwood?" ("We both saw you, so don't you dare lie to
have sworn I heard prison officer Billie Jo chuckling no, snickering,
prison officer Bella Donna had then reached the landing of Level 1, and the
danger was over ... for now.
top, prison officer Bella Donna turned to watch me and prison officer Billie
Jo come the rest of the way up the flight of stairs ... and she wasn't one
in a classic attitude of impatience: with the knee of her right leg bent,
and her lower leg extended behind her, and with the tip of the toe end of
her flip flop resting on the floor, prison officer Bella Donna did something
with her now vertically-positioned right foot; worked her toes, in some way
maybe the same manipulations that prison officers Natalie and Melanie had
performed with their desk-propped feet in the security checkpoint building
that caused the heel of her flexible flip flop to repeatedly slap ... slap
... slap ... slap the bottom of her bare heel. "Prisoner Lightwood! Do you
think I've got all day? Get a move on!" she said waspishly, her flip flop
all the while slap ... slap ... slap ... slap ... slapping away. "Come on! I
said: Get a move on!" Slap ... slap ... slap ... slap ... slap ...
way, prisoner Lightwood," ordered prison officer Billie Jo, pointing to the
right. "West Wing. You are in cell sixteen. Now, again: officer Bella Donna
will lead the way ... you know what to do. And don't forget what I'll,
be doing, prisoner Lightwood: Watching you. Every step of the way."
Miss Billie Jo," I said respectfully.
I proceeded as instructed: respectfully directing my eyes downward, and once
again focusing my attention upon prison officer Bella Donna's walking feet,
the prescribed three paces in front of me.
daring to take my eyes away, I watched her alternately flashing lightly
tanned soles as her pale blue, thin-rubber soled flip flops slap ... slap
... slap ... slapped away against the bottoms of her bare heels as she
walked along Level One's dark-grey painted smooth-concrete floor.
not look away ("it'll be the cane ... or worse"). But, without giving away
to prison officer Billie Jo the tell-tale sign of head movement, each time I
passed a cell I swivelled my eyes to glance inside, just out of curiosity
... and I received curious glances in return. But pitying, too: the
expressions on each of the wretched-looking inmates' faces saying, 'So ...
another new prisoner'.
I was there. I'd finally arrived: Level 1, West Wing, cell 16.
for the next three months.
I'd thought, at the time.
cordially invite you to share the decidedly mean 'home comforts' of cell 16,
Level 1, West Wing, Greystone Prison ...
the matter, prisoner Lightwood?" asked prison officer Billie Jo with mock
solicitousness, upon seeing my expression. My expression, upon seeing my new
abode, for the first time. Sneering-voiced, she asked, "Not what you were
know what I'd been expecting I'd never actually seen inside a prison cell
before but it wasn't this.
saw now, looking through the dark-grey painted bars of the prison cell,
certainly wasn't designed to lift my sunken spirits.
cell's bars, the three walls and the smooth-concrete floor were painted the
same depressing shade of dark grey.
to the back wall, one above the other, were two mean-looking bunk beds, with
even meaner looking dark grey bedclothes.
the left-hand wall, tinted dark-grey was a stainless-steel toilet that had
no seat; on its cistern cover a couple of flat-packs of scratchy toilet
tissue-paper. Next to the toilet, and of the same drearily tinted
stainless-steel colour, was a washstand with just a single, cold water tap.
the right-hand wall, leaned two tubular-framed, dark-grey canvas
was about it; the sum total of the sorry cell's contents ... That is, apart
from my sorry-looking cellmate. He was sitting on the bottom bunk, staring
miserably out at me and prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo.
up? Is the dιcor not quite to your taste, Mister Lightwood?" jibed
prison officer Bella Donna. "Oh, we'll have to do something about that! I'll
radio Control, and ask them to get the decorators in pronto, shall I?" she
sniped. "Oh, and the carpet-fitters, too; have them lay a nice, thick-piled
carpet the one you've got now is looking a bit threadbare. They'll have a
sample book, that you can have a look through and choose; pick the sort of
colour and design that's just right for you! And, what about having some
nice new furniture delivered as well? Hmm ...? A three-piece suite, maybe? A
nice coffee table, too. And maybe you'd like a couple of occasional tables,
with matching shaded lamps on them, to give off a nice, soft glow of an
evening? That would be lovely, wouldn't it? Or maybe you'd prefer a couple
of lava lamps? Oh! I can just see it all now ... Goodness I might even
move in with you! Really, nothing would be too much trouble. I mean, we want
you to feel all nice and comfy, and right at home, in Greystone Prison."
colleague, prison officer Billie Jo, added, "Yes, prisoner Lightwood. And me
and officer Bella Donna will bring in some colour charts, to help you choose
your new wallpaper. Personally, I think some nice pastel shades will go
well, in here but of course, we'd let you choose, according to your own
personal tastes and preferences. And we'll pick out a few knick-knacks for
you, too, shall we? Some nice landscape and seascape prints, perhaps, and a
few lovely ornaments? You know, just to help brighten the place up a bit ...
I know: and what about a fish tank, with some lovely coloured tropical fish
swimming around for you to watch? That would be nice, wouldn't it? Oh! And
for a nice finishing touch, what about some lovely new curtains? You know,
to complete the ensemble? Ooh ... do you know, I think they would set the
whole thing off especially with some nice, tasselled valances! Me and
officer Bella Donna would be only too happy, to help you set up your new
home we know just how difficult it can be, moving in to a new place."
officer Bella Donna all but snarled, "Get in, prisoner Lightwood and get
used to it!
prisoner Lightwood. Get in there!" snapped prison officer Billie Jo. "And
you'd better learn to like it and quick!"
like looking into the gloomy, profoundly depressing dark-grey interior of
Securi-Fem officers Sonia and Sandra's prisoner transport van ... But a
hundred-fold worse, from knowing I would be spending some real time in
there. I definitely did not want to go in there ... and have the door
slammed shut behind me.
officer Bella Donna then said, "Being as we're already here, BJ, why don't
we start now, as we mean to carry on? Seeing as you've been enjoying
prisoner Chapman's recent ... improvements, would you like to continue to
avail yourself of his services? And prisoner Lightwood, here, can provide
Foot Service to me."
Bel, I would like to carry on using prisoner Chapman's services. Since the
... improvements, I've had done to him, Chapman is a nice, snug, comfortable
fit for me almost like a custom-fit, in fact. Ha ha ha!"
then, BJ. Let's get to it, shall we?"
Bel. And the sooner the better. Prisoner Lightwood is only in for three
months, according to Nat and Mel, so we'll need to make doubly sure he never
has a dull moment."
moment, BJ in this place? Ha ha ha!"
heh," chuckled prison officer Billie Jo abominably. "You are right, Bel.
There are no dull moments, in here."
This is one of my favourite parts of our job, BJ: being their 'first'.
Initiating a new prisoner. I mean, there's nothing quite like it, is there,
BJ? They say you never forget your 'first' and that is certainly true for
the prisoners here!"
totally agree, Bel. I was prisoner Chapman's first as I'm sure he very
well remembers. And, just like in the old Barry White song from
way-back-when, I fully intend to be Chapman's first, his last his
everything. Ha ha ha ha! Do you know, Bel, my mum's still got a huge
collection of those Golden Oldies. A big box-set, of those old-fashioned CD
things. Timeless, some of those old songs are."
you've really made prisoner Chapman your own, haven't you? Sort of ...
adopted him, you could say?"
Bel. I suppose you could say that. I've been using Chapman for a
while. I've had him for ... it's nearly four months, now. Actually, he was
originally only sentenced to one month. But he's earned himself another
three months' prison time for disobeying my orders, on three separate
occasions. So, happily for me, on each of those three occasions I was able
to recommend to the Governor that he be penalised for non-compliance, and
that added time be tagged on to his sentence accordingly ... Having said
that, though, he's behaved himself since then he's been a model prisoner
... heh heh heh. And so the downside is I haven't been able to get any more
time added on to his sentence. You know, Bel, another nice little top-up?"
heh," chuckled prison officer Bella Donna in understanding.
thought, prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo were still having me on
here, weren't they?
continuation? A continuation of the wind-up the ridiculously elaborate
prisoner-wind-up charade that prison officers Natalie and Melanie had
started. Just to cruelly keep the ball rolling, as it were, for a bit
longer? To maliciously spin out their puerile, but pernicious nonsense, for
as long as they could, to try and maximise the already fretting new
officer Billie Jo went on, conversationally, "Obviously, I really enjoy
using the other prisoners, too that goes without saying. Variety is the
spice of life, and all that. And it's in the job-description, anyway. But
... it's nice to be able to mould, a prisoner. You know, Bel? Get him
all nice and used to your own personal ways and likes: get him used to
you, personally. So that, when you call him to Foot Service, he'll
actually do everything you want automatically without needing to be
told. And that's where I've got prisoner Chapman right now; at that stage of
conditioning. Of course, I still tell him to do lots of things for me. I
mean, that's all part of the fun, isn't it? Part of the buzz. Giving them
orders telling them, what to do. Pity ... he's only got one more
week to serve, now. But maybe there's something I could do about that ... Do
mean, if you want to ... retain, Chapman? Yes, BJ, I definitely do,
think so. After all, all it would take, is one trumped-up word to the
Governor from you. And ..."
You are right, Bel! It would be as simple and easy as that, wouldn't it?
Just think, Bel ... I could actually keep hold of Chapman, indefinitely.
I mean, what's to stop me? And I'd easily get away with it, wouldn't I?"
BJ," said prison officer Bella Donna confidently. She added, assuring her
friend and colleague, "I'd back up everything you accused him of, BJ."
Bel. I knew I could count on you."
think nothing of it ... But, do you know something, BJ? You've got me
thinking ... Seeing as these two are in the same cell, why don't I 'adopt'
prisoner Lightwood? And I'll mould him, too, as you call it. Make him adapt
himself to all of my own personal ways and likes. That would be nice
and convenient, wouldn't it, BJ? We could enjoy our all-nice-and-used-to-us
foot slaves together."
"Ha ha ha
ha! Bel, and then you would be doing the same thing with prisoner Lightwood,
as I've done with prisoner Chapman: Making yourself prisoner Lightwood's
first, his last his everything! Ha ha ha ha! And, with a few trumped-up
words of your own, 'report' him to the Governor, too. And on a regular
basis, Bel so that you'll be able to 'retain' Lightwood indefinitely, as
something, BJ? I think I'm going to do exactly that ..."
thought. Prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo are definitely pulling my
chain. Did they actually think I was so gullible? Still, I had to
admit ... they were both damn fine actresses.
"Ha ha ha
ha! Bel! If we get our way, by the time these two are released from
Greystone, they won't be golden but they'll certainly be olden!"
"Ha ha ha
ha ha!! You can say that again! Anyway ... why are we still standing
here, BJ, chattering away like two old fishwives?" said prison officer Bella
Donna, in tones suggesting she was wondering how she could possibly ever be
so remiss with such appalling time wasting. "We should be enjoying these two
losers' total, one hundred per cent attentions and I could be making a
start on prisoner Lightwood's special training."
Ha ha ha!
I laughed to myself. Very convincing, I thought appreciatively. They were
both certainly very talented, I had to admit. In fact, I was actually
starting to enjoy their 'show'. And, given another minute or two, I might
even have started applauding their 'antics' ...
Lightwood!" snapped prison officer Billie Jo. "I'd certainly be interested
to know what you, have got to smirk about?"
yes, I'd already grasped the very obvious fact that prison officers Bella
Donna and Billie Jo were a real pair of witches. But, they couldn't
really, be serious ... could they? It was unthinkable! I mean, there
were systems in place, weren't there? Protocols. Checks and balances.
Measures. They couldn't possibly, get away with the sorts of
heinously cruel, vilely sadistic things they'd been talking of perpetrating!
In a government institution? Nah. The whole thing was just too preposterous
BJ. We'll soon wipe that silly smile off his face. Let's tell him and his
new friend to assume the position. We know why they are here: They are here
because they have no sense of propriety, where females are concerned. And we
are here to instruct them: to drill the concept into their stupid thick
heads. Oh, I'll teach prisoner Lightwood everything there is to know, about
propriety towards females and then some! Oh yes. I'll soon"
Interrupted by a sudden burst of static, prison officer Bella Donna went
quiet, to listen to the imminent radio message.
Control ... A new prisoner has arrived: Bernard Broadbent, aged twenty-five.
He's in for one month, for transgressing the Crimes Against Females Act: One
count of Ungentlemanly Conduct. Requesting two officers to attend. Repeat:
requesting two officers to attend, to escort prisoner Broadbent to Level
One, West Wing, cell seventeen. Over."
recognised the radio operator's voice. It was prison officer Natalie, one of
the two receiving prison officers I'd just met in the security checkpoint
building, who'd said they would be having me "for lunch" tomorrow, in the
Staff canteen. Her voice sounded different over the radio, a bit tinny, but
it was still quite obviously her.
new prisoner, this Bernard Broadbent. According to what prison officer
Natalie had just said over the radio, he was going to be put in the cell
few moments, when no one had responded to prison officer Natalie's general
call, prison officer Bella Donna said, "These two aren't going anywhere, BJ.
And besides, we'll be escorting prisoner Broadbent right back here anyway,
won't we? Right next door, to cell seventeen. If he's well enough behaved,
maybe we'll let him watch these two, assuming the position for Foot Service
for us. Let him see what he's got to look forward to, as well, for the next
of moments later, when still no prison officer had responded to prison
officer Natalie's call, after getting the nod from her colleague, prison
officer Bella Donna pressed the Send button on her radio. "Control,
received. This is officer Bella Donna. Officer Billie Jo and I can attend.
ETA four minutes. Over."
officer Natalie's voice came straight back on. "This is Control. Officer
Bella Donna, received. Thank you. Please attend. Over and out."
officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo then each slipped a foot from its flip
flop, firmly placed their bare sole against my buttocks and propelled me
ignominiously into the bleak environs of cell 16. "I thought we'd told you
to get in there!" snapped prison officer Bella Donna in annoyance.
threw the heavy, barred door closed behind me, and it slammed shut with a
horribly resounding clang.
the steeply sloped two-foot deep ramp that led into the cell, that I somehow
hadn't noticed before, I almost went crashing headlong to the cell's
dark-grey painted smooth-concrete floor, only narrowly managing to avoid a
potentially nasty fall.
before I had time to wonder about that aspect of the cell's curious layout
and not just the ramp, but also the eight torpedo-tube like holes that were
set into the wall under the cell's bars my two tormentors were sniping at
get too comfortable, prisoner Lightwood," sneered prison officer Bella
Donna. "We'll be back before you know it. And then, trust me: I'm going to
start making your life very interesting indeed."
right," agreed prison officer Billie Jo. "We'll be back in a jiff. So don't
bother putting the coffee percolator on. Or watching a bit of satellite TV
or taking in a movie," she jibed.
your prisoner's uniform on!" ordered prison officer Bella Donna. "When I get
back, I want to see you changed into your tee-shirt, shorts, and bootees."
that, prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo abruptly turned and walked
away, their thin-rubber soled flip flops, sounding all business-like and
on-a-mission as they slap slap slap slapped against the bottoms of their
bare heels as they went, and resounding even more loudly and maddeningly
up here on the Levels.
there, glumly listening to the receding echoes of what I would soon come to
recognise as prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo's dreaded signature
I now meet
my cellmate, who soon disabuses me of my naive, rose-tinted-glasses notions,
and gives me the real lowdown on what's actually in store for me, in HM
Prison: Greystone ...
"So, I see
you've met Poison Ivy and her friend, then. And, unfortunately for you, from
what I've just heard Poison Ivy has definitely got her dark designs on you,"
said my cellmate, by means of breaking the ice.
Ross Chapman," he said, holding out his hand for me to shake.
Lightwood. Lenny, to my friends," I said, shaking Ross's proffered hand.
glad to meet you then, Lenny ... only I wish it could have been under better
circumstances than these."
sitting on the edge of the lower bunk. "I hope you don't mind taking the top
bunk, Lenny? Only I'm beginning to get used to this one, after nearly four
okay with me, Ross. You were here first, after all. Anyway, the bunks look
equally uncomfortable to me."
pretty much," said Ross. "And anyway, I'm only here for one more week. So
you can have the bottom bunk yourself then, if you want it."
I said. Then, "Er ... what was that you said before, Ross? Something about
dark designs, and poison ivy?"
That's just my nickname for her for prison officer Bella Donna."
have been blank-faced, because Ross said, "What? Don't you get it? Bella
Donna ... Poison Ivy ... Bella Donna. Get it now?"
Well no, I
still didn't get it, and it must have shown on my face.
plant, Lenny: Deadly nightshade. It's a poisonous plant. And deadly
nightshade is also known as belladonna. So: Bella Donna ... belladonna ...
Poison Ivy ... See now? It's just a play on words."
Now I get it," I said. "I never knew that before. But I can already see why
you call her that. It's pretty apt, from what I've seen of her so far."
me, you've seen nothing yet, Lenny," said Ross ominously. "Nothing."
you'll soon get an idea. Just as soon as those two get back here and they
won't be long, either, maybe fifteen minutes or so. Remember? They're
bringing our new neighbour, this Bernard Broadbent bloke. Oh, and what they
were both talking about, just now? About 'retaining' us? Lenny, if you value
your freedom, don't not for one second think that they didn't
mean exactly what they were saying. Don't give either of them the slightest
chance to go reporting you to the Governor because they'll take it. Snatch
it with both hands. You are going to have to watch your every step, mate,
with both of them ... And so am I, too, from what I've just heard. It sounds
like prison officer Billie Jo has gotten a bit too used to having me around.
But, at least I've only got one more week now, to survive."
Hmm ... my
cellmate is given to exaggeration somewhat, I thought. I was inclined to
take what Ross had just told me with a big pinch of salt.
prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo hadn't been serious, just now, as
my cellmate now seemed to be seriously suggesting?
the prison officers' outrageous actions couldn't be officially sanctioned?
their flippant little chat was all a show, purely for their own wicked
amusement? Just like prison officers Natalie and Melanie's? Just a
mischievous show, that they had off pat; memorised, word-perfect? A
just-for-a-laugh, malicious mickey-take but nothing more harmful than that
that they pulled on a new prisoner, now and then, when things were a bit
quiet? To try and put the frighteners on him? To try and con the con, as it
were, just for the sheer fun of it?
prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo wouldn't report prisoners to the
Governor on trumped-up charges? Just to "retain" them. Just to "keep hold
of" them, for their own personal, depraved reasons? I mean, what order of
magnitude of corruption would that be?
their casual, no-big-deal, matter-of-fact sounding talk of all that, right
in front of me, had been just one big wind-up? One big leg-pull?
the subject, to get back on solid ground, I said, "I'm in for three months,
for three counts of Ungentlemanly Conduct. What about you, Ross?"
"Ungentlemanly Conduct, too. One count one month: For failing, when
commuting to work on the bus, to offer my seat to a lady who was standing."
"Ungentlemanly Conduct?" I said, puzzled. "But, Ross, Ungentlemanly Conduct
is brand-new legislation, only starting from today. So how come you've
already been collared for it? In my case, I was arrested at Heathrow Airport
this morning by two CSO's and then my feet didn't touch the ground: I was
formally charged, promptly taken to appear at Sodbury Crown Court, was found
guilty, and then transported in a godawful Securi-Fem prisoner transport van
to this place by mid-afternoon."
haven't heard, then, Lenny. But then, not many people have outside of
Guildford, that is."
"Guildford?" I said.
where I'm from. See, Lenny, Guildford well, and Norwich and Preston and
Milton Keynes too were the four towns chosen by the Authoritarian Female
Party as the places to pilot the Social Awareness Programme. A scheme, in
which infringements of the rules by males would lead to charges of
widely advertised, at the time. Just locally, in those four towns. The AFP
kept the experiment low-key, Lenny. They wanted to keep a lid on it, and see
if the males of Guildford and Norwich and Preston and Milton Keynes were
going to swallow it."
unbelievable! I thought. The Social Awareness Programme? What the hell next?
on, "I hadn't even been aware that there had been a lady standing, on
the bus she'd been standing behind where I was sitting. Or of course, just
out of sheer courtesy and politeness I would immediately have insisted upon
her availing herself of my seat. But, under the new Social Awareness
Programme regulations, Lenny, we're supposed to remain alert, and always be
on the lookout and considerate of that sort of thing now."
Ross, what I don't get, is that you said you were given one month, and
you've now been here for nearly four months? Remember? About your bunk? You
said you were just starting to get comfortable in it, after nearly four
"Comfortable? In these things?" exclaimed Ross,
slapping his mean mattress's dark grey scratchy bedclothes disgustedly. "I
said I was just beginning to get used to it which is a very different
playing with words again, mate," I said, impatient to get to the meat of my
cellmate's story. "You haven't explained why you are still here, after
nearly four months, when you said you were only sentenced to one month."
Lenny ... weren't you listening, just now? To what prison officer Billie Jo
said? And to what prison officer Bella Donna was saying? And didn't the
receiving prison officers give you the heads-up, when you arrived?"
And it was
now, that it finally sunk in.
I suddenly saw things for what they really were. Saw, what had been so
obviously staring me in the face the whole time. Only I'd refused to see it,
until now wouldn't see it: The truth.
written all over my cellmate's miserable face ... the irrefutable evidence.
was just no getting away from it. No hiding from it and no more denying
could be no more self-delusion. No more pulling the wool over my own eyes.
No more kidding myself ... no more retreating, from an uncomfortable and
...?" I said, shocked and stunned, as awful realisation dawned, and I was
finally forced to confront the unthinkable realities of my nightmarish new
and stunned, as the scales finally fell from my eyes.
I woke up and smelled the coffee, and the actual, terrible truth now finally
began to dawn on me in full. The actual, terrible truth, that was written
all over Ross's utterly wretched face ...
prison officers Natalie and Melanie hadn't, after all, been having me
on. And, that they would, in all likelihood, keep to their vengeful promise
of depriving me of my sleep ("and, trust me: we've got the perfect 'smelling
salts', to keep you awake with"), with an all-night Foot Service session the
next time they were on their hated Night Duty, for "getting off on the wrong
foot" with them both. ("If we, can't get a good night's sleep, why
should we let ill-behaved prisoners like you sleep?").
prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo hadn't, after all, been
pulling my leg either: That prison officer Bella Donna actually would, in
all likelihood, seek to "retain" me indefinitely, for her own supremely
selfish reasons. (Prison officer Billie Jo: "By the time these two
are released from Greystone, they won't be golden but they'll certainly be
olden!" Prison officer Bella Donna: "Ha ha ha ha ha!! You can say that
but I thought she and prison officer Bella Donna were just joking! How ...
how could they not be?" I spluttered in stunned consternation, still
struggling to accept it still struggling to come to terms, with the
actual, terrible truth.
cellmate just stared back at me, pityingly.
that that they ..." I stammered, trying to find the words. "That they were
both just talking a load of ... scaremongering waffle! You know? I thought
it was all just a lot of leg-pulling gibberish. That they were just trying
to wind me up! That it was just some ... some elaborate, mischievous stunt,
that they sometimes pulled on new prisoners. For a laugh!"
his head in sad exasperation, Ross said, "No. They weren't joking, Lenny.
That's what I'm trying to get through to you."
from what the judge at Sodbury Crown Court told me, I thought I was going to
be stuck in some classroom all day, being ... well, brainwashed."
shaking of the head from Ross. "There's plenty of brainwashing ... but no
said. "So ... so it's actually true, then ... extra time really has,
been added on to your sentence? Because of prison officer Billie Jo? The
judge at Sodbury Crown Court told me that can happen if the prison
officers here recommend it."
You just hit the nail on the head, Lenny: If the prison officers here
guess what? Prison officer Billie Jo has done exactly that three times.
Just like she said: for three separate offences of non-compliance. For each
new offence, I was awarded one extra month in Greystone. Remember, Lenny?
Prison officer Billie Jo mentioned it earlier and she told it just the way
it happened: That she'd gone to the Governor's office to report me, and to
recommend that extra time be added onto my sentence. And she'd said that the
Governor signed-off on it, just like she always does. Remember, Lenny?"
"But ... I
thought ... Hell! I can still hardly believe it, Ross. Even now. I mean, it
was all just so ... outlandish. I thought she was just"
mean, come on! Not for a moment, did I think she was actually being serious,
about ... 'retaining' you. About 'moulding' you, to her 'own personal ways
and likes'. About her being your first, your last your every"
was. But, like prison officer Billie Jo said, I've given her no further
reason for complaint, since then not a one! It's been hard ... oh, it's
been hard! But I've kept my head down, and I've kept my nose clean, and I've
obeyed all of her orders all of them. And I'm nearly there now, Lenny
I'm nearly there! I've only got one more week left to serve, and then I'm
out of here. And then you won't see me for dust and I'll never look back!"
did you do, Ross? What were the three offences, that got you an extra three
months in this horrible place?"
"It was on
my very first day here, when I committed my first offence and that's when
lots of prisoners get caught out, Lenny. So you'll have to be especially
wary of that: be continually on your guard, ever vigilant against falling
into the prison officers' traps."
disobeyed prison officer Billie Jo's order. She was calling me to Foot
Service, and I wouldn't 'assume the position' that's what they call it
here, Lenny: assuming the position. She summoned me to Foot Service ... and
I said no."
officer Billie Jo was calling you to ... Foot Service? And you wouldn't ...
assume the position?"
soon find out what I'm talking about, Lenny. Just as soon as she gets back
with Poison Ivy. Poison Ivy will want to begin your indoctrination
immediately that's what they call it here, Lenny: indoctrination."
officers Natalie and Melanie were telling me something of the sort, in the
security checkpoint building. A lot of stuff about foot service, and
assuming the position, and making sure that I always pleased the prison
officers oh, and a lot of stuff about showing due propriety, where females
were concerned. I thought they were just making it all up like I'd thought
prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo were ... Okay, Ross. You were
So, for not assuming the position when prison officer Billie Jo was
summoning me to Foot Service, she handcuffed me to the cell's bars on the
outside, that is, so that other prisoners on the Level could watch, as an
example to them. Then she pulled down my shorts, and caned seven sorts of
you know what out of me. I was in so much agony, I couldn't sit down
afterwards ... But, almost right after, prison officer Billie Jo had given
me something else, to ... to take my mind off it."
mentioning of shorts reminded me of prison officer Bella Donna's order to
change into my prisoner's uniform ... "What? She'd given you something else,
to take your mind off"
Lenny ... I'll get to it soon enough. And there's more, too, after that."
said, pulling on my pair of dark grey, soft fabric bootees. I then grabbed
one of the two tubular-framed dark-grey canvas folding-chairs that were
leaning against the wall, unfolded it, and sat down. "The floor is yours," I
told Ross, and settled in to listen to his first-hand account of prison
officer Billie Jo's dastardly doings.
officer Bella Donna had wanted to join in. She's a demon with the cane, is
Poison Ivy a real hellcat. But on that occasion she had to settle for
watching and encouraging. Because prison officer Billie Jo told her: 'No,
Bel he's mine!' She really had it in for me, Lenny. After I crossed her
... after I said no, to her. No prisoner in here gets to defy her,
and tell the tale sitting down.
on top of that, as I said before, prison officer Billie Jo recommended to
the Governor that another month be added on to my original one-month
sentence. And of course the Governor approved the recommended sanction, as
she does all prison officers' such recommendations for extra prison time
"slow learners", she calls such prisoners.
had all been to no avail, my non-compliance that's what they call it here,
officer Billie Jo, she ... she caned me, and caned me, and caned me. The
pain! It got so bad! I was screaming, and screaming, and begging her to stop
and I mean, begging. I was completely defenceless; couldn't do a
damn thing about it. I was restrained by my wrists to the bars of the cell,
with my shorts pulled right down, and I was yelling and screaming in pain.
She said, in between her cane strokes, stuff like: 'Dare to defy me,
will you, prisoner Chapman?'. She was really whupping me!"
quiet for a minute, remembering the traumatic occasion.
you're ready, Ross," I said.
"Eventually, I ... I submitted. I submitted, to prison officer Billie Jo: I
finally assumed the position, for Foot Service.
was the pain, Lenny! I'd never known anything like it. It just got so, so
bad! In the end, I I had to do it! I ... I just couldn't take, any more!"
right, mate. All right ... take your time," I said soothingly.
got our limits, Lenny."
hardly believe what Ross was telling me.
re-lived those terrible moments, I could see the remembered pain, written
all over his face. I thought I could actually see the resultant stress
lines, forever etched into it.
the hell sort of place was this?
moment or two, my cellmate continued. "And then there was my second offence.
In fact, it occurred right after my first and I mean, right after. Right
after prison officer Billie Jo got back to my cell, after she'd been to see
the Governor to report me.
said, I'd I'd submitted, to prison officer Billie Jo. I'd told her I'd do
as she told me. And I'd ... assumed the position, for Foot Service.
prison officer Billie Jo had whupped me into submission with her cane, I
thought I was prepared to do anything anything! to avoid her taking her
cane to me again. But ... I was wrong.
then, she said she wanted to put her foot in my mouth ... can you believe
that? Put her foot, in my mouth, Lenny! Lenny: Her foot! In my
... okay ... You need to calm down a bit, mate," I said. "Just settle down,
nodded, but nonetheless ran his fingers through his hair in great agitation.
Re-living the still vivid memory, in all of its harrowing, nightmarish
horror, clearly wasn't easy for him.
went on it was clear that he wanted to tell me everything; that, now that
he'd started, he wanted to get it all off his chest. "She prison officer
Billie Jo secured my wrists into the bracelets set into the cell's bars.
Then she stood with her back to me. And, from where I was positioned, she
was like authority personified. She looked so powerful, so dominant. So ...
staring at the backs of her legs; at her shapely, tanned calves. And at the
cheeks of her bottom, pressing against the cotton fabric of her pale blue
short skirt ... but I wasn't waiting for long.
slipped her right foot from her flip flop, and raised the sole of her foot
to within a few inches of my face. She told me to look at her sole. To study
it and study it carefully. Study it well, she told me. She said I was
going to be seeing her feet a lot, from now on. A hell of a lot. Up close,
was studying the sole of prison officer Billie Jo's right foot, just like
she'd said, she told me she would be requiring Foot Service, in a moment.
She said she would be wanting me to suck on her toes, individually, and to
thoroughly lick all in between them the toe cleavages, she called them
and I was to swallow everything my tongue dislodged, as I went from toe to
toe. She told me she would be wanting me to lick all up and down her soles,
too, using 'firm and determined, dirty-sole cleaning tongue strokes', she
she could just as easily wipe her soles clean on my tongue, herself and
sometimes, she would, because she enjoyed doing that; enjoyed a good
self-service scrub, as she'd called it. But, in the main, that was what I was
there for: to do all of the work, and to provide the service. It was a
question of propriety, she told me, and that's what I'm here to learn all
'A man's tongue is the best exfoliating tool known to woman'. And so, she
said, after I'd licked and sucked the rest of her sole clean, still standing
with her back to me, she was going to rest her heels in my mouth. First, her
right heel, and then her left heel. Pushing them in, so that I could 'work
on them properly', she told me. Give the bottoms of her grubby heels a good
to me: 'My feet are dirty, prisoner Chapman. My feet are all grimy and
sweaty from walking the Levels all day in these flip flops, keeping the
likes of you in line. So this is where you come in, lowlife: You are a
footrest, and a foot-cleaner a foot slave prisoner Chapman. In
the service of every prison officer in Greystone Prison. And now, you are
going to tongue-clean my dirty feet, for me: First, my right foot. And then
my left foot. Now, get your ungentlemanly mouth open, prisoner Chapman
wide open. So that I can get all of my toes in there and use your tongue as
my wash sponge; so that you can work your wash-sponge tongue all in between
them, and clean out all the crud. I want to get my toes in nice and deep,
where they'll get a good soak from all of the saliva that, even against your
will, the taste of my dirty, sweaty feet will cause you to naturally provide
in abundance ... Now, prisoner Chapman: open up!' she'd said."
Looking at Ross's eyes,
as he said all of this, was like looking into some combat-fatigued soldier's
haunted, 1,000-yard stare.
and I said no ..." said Ross, his voice thick with emotion, "... again."
I said. "So ... what did she say?"
'Do you want to feel some more of my cane, prisoner Chapman? Because, trust
me: I'm not even warmed up, yet. You think that, now, after just a few
little love-taps, you know what pain is. Well, think again, prisoner
Chapman: You don't. By the time I've finished with you, your buttocks will
look like two over-sized burger patties. Well, prisoner Chapman ...? It's
decision time. And I'm short on patience. So, what's it going to be ...?
Believe me, you'll be doing exactly as I tell you, in the end.' That's what
she said, Lenny."
a breath a breath that I hadn't realised I'd been holding. "So ... what
her, 'No, Miss Billie Jo, I don't want to feel some more of your cane. But
... letting you put your foot in my mouth? No, Miss Billie Jo. I can't let
you do that. That's where I draw the line. If you put your foot in my mouth,
Miss Billie Jo, I'll ... I'll bite it.' That's what I told her."
didn't!" I exclaimed.
But I wouldn't have bitten her foot I'm not that stupid. But she didn't
know that, did she? Not for sure. And anyway, why should she take the risk?"
I stayed quiet. I waited for my cellmate to go on, in his own time, in his
own way. I knew he would: it was obvious he was glad to have someone to
unburden himself to; glad to get all of this stuff off his chest, at last.
And I sensed, now, that he was getting closer to the real meat of his story.
continued, albeit brokenly, as tortured remembrances occasionally
interrupted his painful narrative. But he pressed on gamely.
... I thought prison officer Billie Jo was going to cane me again, make my
buttocks look like two over-sized burger patties, just like she'd threatened
... but she didn't.
stood there, for what seemed ages, just looking at me. She didn't talk.
Because she was thinking thinking about what to do about my
non-compliance. Thinking something up.
... and then this look came over her face, and I knew I was in trouble big
trouble. Because I knew that she'd thought-up something bad very bad. She
told me: 'Right! I'm through with playing around with you, prisoner Chapman.
No more pussyfooting about! And, when you are crying yourself to sleep
tonight, remember: you asked for it!' That's what she said."
it? Asked for what?" I said, unable to contain my curiosity.
tell you. Let me tell you in my own time, and in my own way ... I'm just
coming to it."
officer Billie Jo made two journeys: First, to the Governor's office, to
recommend another month be added onto my now two-month sentence, making it a
three-month tariff that's what she called it: a tariff. And also, to get
the Governor's approval for her chosen method of chastisement that's what
they call punishment, here: chastisement.
second journey duly furnished with the Governor's written Approval Order
was to the doctor's surgery. To make ... arrangements.
emergencies, the prison doctor sort of doubles-up as a dentist. And ...
well, look, Lenny, see for yourself ..." Ross said, opening his mouth wide,
for me to see inside. "This is what prison officer Billie Jo had the
doctor-cum-dentist do to me ... see? See, Lenny? See?"
god!" I said. I was shocked to the core.
the hell sort of hellhole was this?
continued, even more brokenly. "I I can remember it, just like it was
yesterday ... She ... prison officer Billie Jo, she had the doctor the
dentist, who the hell needle my gums all up with local anesthetic, and ...
and then pull all of my teeth out! All of them, Lenny! All of them! I
haven't got a single tooth left in my head!"
his hands through his hair again, in his now greatly increased agitation.
"He didn't even put me under! Prison officer Billie Jo told the
doctor-cum-dentist, 'Prisoner Chapman won't be needing any laughing gas,
doctor I'll be laughing enough for both of us! Ha ha ha ha!'
helped, Lenny!" Ross almost yelled, in outrage and remembered pain. "She
helped that butcher. Aiding and abetting, they'd call it, in any other walk
of life! She held me down kept my head still! Prison officer Billie Jo
held my head still, and she laughed, every time the dentist plopped another
tooth into the metal basin! 'There goes another one!' she'd say, all happy
and sing-song voiced."
becoming over-excited. Getting all carried away, upon so vividly recalling
the appalling atrocity perpetrated against him. "All right, mate ... all
right. Just ... just steady on, eh?" I said, trying to get my cellmate's
pulse rate down a bit.
Ross showed me the results of his impromptu dental 'treatment' his
execrable extractions at prison officer Billie Jo's behest. The horrendous
results, of his single-session surgery at the hands of the
you, steady on? Eh, Lenny? Eh?"
aghast horrified at the gummy, ransacked ruins of my cellmate's
inexpertly excavated mouth.
thought, considering he'd sustained these injuries because that's what
they were: grievous injuries, inflicted by the cack-handed amateur dentist
nearly four months ago, now, his mouth didn't seem to be healing up very
still bits of caked and congealing, fresh-looking blobs of blood in most of
the cavities; more especially so, in the larger craters. His gums still
looked sore, and very tender ... So how come they weren't healing too well?
cellmate continued, "And, get this, Lenny: prison officer Billie Jo told me
she's glad she did it glad, that she 'custom-fitted' me. Remember what she
said, about a custom-fit? She says she can get a good grip now, with her
nice new toe-holds her 'improvements', she calls them. It was her little
joke, her 'custom-fit' comment. Oh, she loves a joke they both do, her and
Poison Ivy. In fact, all of the prison officers here do. It's another of
their cruel ways, of winding us all up.
"And," Ross went on, even more hotly; the
heights of his emotion close to peaking now, "prison officer Bella Donna
Poison Ivy! when she saw what her sadistic sidekick had had done to me,
she told me: 'Excellent! Truly excellent! And now, prisoner Chapman, maybe
you'll know when to keep your mouth open!' And she laughed, and laughed, and
laughed. They both did!"
I couldn't believe it. What I'd heard. What
I'd seen. I was stunned.
"Uh ... you've told me about two of your
extra offences, Ross ... Didn't you say you'd committed three?" I prompted.
"I'm ... I'm still coming to that. This isn't
easy, you know."
"Okay," I said. "Take your time. Tell it your
"It was a week later."
"Okay," I said.
"Prison officer Billie Jo told me she'd allow
a week for my mouth to heal. And then she'd be back, to see if I'd finally
come to my senses learned my lesson, as she put it. Well ... I hadn't.
But, let me tell you it in order."
"Okay," I said.
"For all of that week, my work duties were
divided: working in the kitchen, doing veg prep and wash-up; working in the
prison laundry, hand-washing the prison officers' pale blue uniform panties;
and working down in the basement, in the Foot-Massage Room." Ross laughed
humourlessly. "In there, at least, the prison officers want us to use our
hands, to massage their feet.
"So ... A week later, prison officer Billie
Jo turns up at my cell. Right on cue, as promised. In fact, I'd heard her
coming I'd recognise the sound of her flip flops anywhere, anytime. It's
distinctive. But I think probably you could say that of all the prison
officers here, if you are especially listening out for certain ones ...
Listening to all of their flip flops, slap slap slap slapping away all of
the time it drives me nuts! But the sound of hers, is the sound I dread
hers, and Poison Ivy's.
"Anyway, as I was saying ... She was just
like she was the first time. She said that she hoped, for my sake like she
cares about that! that I'd learned my lesson, and that I'd come to my
"She ordered me to assume the position for
Foot Service. And I said, 'Yes, Miss Billie Jo', and I did as she told me,
and assumed the position. Then she secured my wrists to the bracelets set
into the cell's bars.
"She started winding me up then; you know,
the psychological cruelty bit. Prison officer Billie Jo is very good at that
all of the prison officers are. Very good at lowering, and then gradually
chipping away at what's left of your pride. Relentlessly degrading your
sense of self-esteem, until you begin to feel like less than nothing
teaching us a sense of propriety towards females, they call it.
"In fact, Lenny, there's nothing the prison
officers love more, than, when they have ordered you to assume the position
for Foot Service, knowing that you are resenting them, with all of your
heart, and loathing them, with all of your soul absolutely hating their
guts whilst performing the very act of worshiping their feet.
"Anyway, as I was saying ... Prison officer
Billie Jo said, in that deriding voice of hers, 'If it wasn't for the need
to keep pieces of scum like you off the streets, prisoner Chapman, there
would be no reason for me to be here at all, would there?' And I answered,
'No, Miss Billie Jo, there wouldn't', all respectful, like.
"Then she turned her back on me, and she took
a couple of steps back, right up to the cell's bars. She slipped her right
foot from her flip flop, and raised the sole of her foot right up to within
just a couple of inches of my face. She sort of wiggled and scrunched and
splayed her toes, right under my nose, and I caught a good whiff of her foot
scent ... and it wasn't a nice smell, I can tell you."
Ross broke off for a moment, shaking his
head, as though trying to clear it of the remembered unpleasant foot smell.
"Then she said: 'See how
dirty the soles of my feet are today, prisoner Chapman? And sweaty, too?
And, do you know how they get all dirty and grimy, and so sweaty, too? And
the bottoms of my heels, all grubby, like that; and see ... there's even a
little black tidemark, around the edge? It's because I patrol the Levels all
day, in these flip flops, keeping the likes of you in line. It's a thankless
job. Watching the rats, in their traps, you could say. And keeping them
there right where they belong, away from civilsed society. Keeping vermin
like you quarantined, and under strict control, preparing you for your
release back into society. Yes, it's a thankless job but someone's got to
do it. So ... why not me? Eh, prisoner Chapman? Why not me?' And I answered,
all respectful, like, 'No reason at all, Miss Billie Jo. If that's what you
want to do.' And she said back, 'Prisoner Chapman, you have no idea not
the slightest conception of just how much I want to do this job; of just
how much, prisoner Chapman, I want to keep the likes of you down.' That's
what she said, Lenny."
I was riveted, waiting for my cellmate to go
on. I didn't say anything I didn't want to interrupt the flow ...
"Prison officer Billie Jo then said, 'And
this is the part of my job I like the most, prisoner Chapman: putting my
dirty, grimy, sweaty feet into prisoners' mouths, for them to suck and lick
clean, for me. Lowlifes like you, prisoner Chapman, who don't know how to
behave towards ladies! It's all you are fit for! Now, I'm not going to play
around with you pussyfooting about, like I did last week. So, if you know
what's good for you, don't give me the runaround this time. Now: Get that
mouth of yours open and open wide! Or, this time, prisoner Chapman, I'll really make
you sorry. I'll make your session at the dentist's seem like a summer's-day
stroll in the park!' That's what she said, Lenny."
"And ... what did you say ... to prison
officer Billie Jo?"
"I said no ... Again."
"I said, 'We've been through all of this,
Miss Billie Jo. Remember? Remember, Miss Billie Jo, about the line I won't
"My god! So ... what happened?"
"Prison officer Billie Jo, happened. That's
"And ...?" I said, leaning forward eagerly.
"Prison officer Billie Jo actually looked
glad, this time. She said: 'So, prisoner Chapman, you actually dare to defy
me again. But, believe me: this will be the last time. There is a cure, for
prisoners' defiance a sure cure and I shall soon be administering it to
you'. That's what she said, Lenny. And she was really scaring me now; what,
with her voice, and the way she was looking at me, and all.
"She told me, 'I'm going to the Governor's
office now. Not only, to recommend that a further one-month extension be
added on to your sentence, for non-compliance that goes without saying.
But also, to get a Special Order signed: for the Wheel of Chastisement.
"This time, prisoner Chapman, I'm really going
to teach you: This time, I'm having your balls I'm going to bust them, for
you. Bust them! That is what happens, to recalcitrant prisoners. Do you hear
me, prisoner Chapman? I'm going to bust your balls! On the Wheel of
Chastisement, as you come around, and around, and around to me, with your
legs restrained wide open, I'm going to kick them, and kick them, and kick
them and, right in front of as many prison officers, who can be spared to
come and participate in your chastisement with their canes. And I promise
you, prisoner Chapman: those earlier punishments, that I administered to
you? The cane? The dentist's chair? They will be as nothing, in comparison.
As nothing! And, when you are crying yourself to sleep tonight, remember:
you asked for it.' That's what she said, Lenny. That she was having my
balls. That she was going to bust them ... And she did."
I was totally incredulous.
"What? You can't be serious?" I said,
shocked, and profoundly appalled. "Prison officer Billie Jo, she ... she
actually kicked your balls, on this ... Wheel of Chastisement thing? And,
right in front of an audience of prison officers?"
Nodding miserably, Ross said, "Prison officer
Billie Jo got the Governor to sign a Special Order for the Ball-Bust
that's what they call that particular method of chastisement: a Ball-Bust.
Prison officer Billie Jo and prison officer Bella Donna Poison Ivy!
handcuffed me between them, and they escorted me down to the basement, to
the gymnasium. That's where they do it, see? The Ball-Bust. That's where
they use their damn contraption the Wheel of Chastisement. Prison officer
Billie Jo, she had me restrained to it: the gathered prison officers secured
my wrists to an overhead bar, pulled my shorts off, and strapped my legs
wide apart. And then, just like she said she would, she ... she administered
my so-called chastisement. As I came around, and around, and around to her,
"Ross, mate, I don't know what to say. I"
"If I live to be a hundred, I'll never forget
"Ross, mate, I"
"And, do you know what, Lenny? The moral of
the story? Prison officer Billie Jo was right: Since the Ball-Bust, I have
never said 'No', to her. Not once. Just like she said, the Wheel of
Chastisement is, a sure cure for defiance. And I don't want her or
any other prison officer, for that matter busting my balls ever again.
"Trust me, Lenny: you don't want to ever have
to go through that. It's beyond imagining ... All
the prison officers, taking their turns to cane you, as and when your bare
buttocks come around to them, again, and again, and again. And they are all
yelling, and cheering, and laughing ... while you suffer. Oh, while you
suffer! While you get kicked in the balls, again, and again, and again ..."
"That's enough, Lenny! Enough ... for now,
anyway. I can't talk about it any more, now."
"Okay," I said.
"Besides, they'll be back any minute prison
officers Billie Jo and Bella Donna with this Bernard Broadbent geezer. And
if I was you, Lenny, I wouldn't give them any hassle!"
We suddenly heard the slap slap slap slapping
of prison officers' flip flops, slapping on the bottoms of their bare heels
as they walked along. And
as those highly annoying (and, increasingly ominous) sounds got nearer and
louder, we also heard a man's peevishly complaining voice.
"This is outrageous a travesty of justice!
Thrown in jail sent to this dump just because I didn't hold a door open
for a woman! And, for heaven's sake, I hadn't even realised she was coming
into the store behind me!" the man yelled, in his post-'induction' outrage,
fresh from the security checkpoint building, and prison officers Natalie and
Melanie's little Welcome to Greystone Prison prep-talk.
"Shut it, prisoner Broadbent!" snapped prison
officer Billie Jo. "Or I'll take my cane to you here and now before I've
even put you in your cell! And, as to why you are here, perhaps in future
you'll remember to take your social responsibilities more seriously."
Prison officer Bella Donna added stonily,
"You wouldn't be here, prisoner Broadbent, if you knew how to behave towards
ladies; if you possessed the slightest modicum of societal decorum. And
that's why we are here: to teach you. The prison officers here will educate
you. Instruct you, on a daily basis. Relentlessly drum into you, a sense of
propriety where females are concerned. And my advice to you, prisoner
Broadbent, is don't make things any worse for yourself. You've already
earned yourself another month's imprisonment, for one act of
"What? You're kidding! Just because I
wouldn't walk three paces behind you, looking at your feet?"
"Yes, prisoner Broadbent," replied prison
officer Bella Donna. "Got it in one."
"They're back!" Ross exclaimed. "They're
coming! They're here! They're"
"Ross, calm down, mate, calm down. You're
going to give yourself a"
"Listen to me, Lenny! Remember what I said!
It's crucial! Vital! Keep your head down, keep your nose clean, and just do
what you're told whatever, you are told for your three-months'
sentence. And then get the hell out of here and never look back! That's my
"Trust me, Lenny! If you value your freedom,
trust me: Don't get on the wrong side of them of any of the prison
officers. It's just not worth it! Listen, Lenny! Trust me!!"
If only I'd listened to Ross's advice.
this is where it all started to go wrong for
me. Terribly wrong ...
Ross had been right. Prison officers Bella
Donna and Billie Jo didn't take very long in getting back a round-trip of
fifteen, maybe twenty minutes.
Using the same foot-to-buttock method of
propulsion they'd used in shoving me into cell 16, prison officers Bella
Donna and Billie Jo likewise ignominiously installed prisoner Broadbent next
door, in cell 17. "Hey! What the hell!" he complained indignantly as he
careered headlong down the steeply sloped two-foot deep ramp that led into
the cell ... apparently, he hadn't noticed the steeply sloped entrance,
Having duly incarcerated the still
vociferously complaining prisoner Broadbent, slamming the barred cell door
after him with a loud, resounding clang, prison officers Bella Donna and
Billie Jo looked through the bars of cell 16, at Ross and me.
Prison officer Billie Jo wasn't slow in
getting down to business. "Prisoner Chapman!" she barked authoritatively.
"Foot Service! Assume the position!"
Upon his hearing prison officer Billie Jo's
commanding, authoritative voice, Ross's open and engaging manner of a moment
ago abruptly vanished was transformed in an instant, into one of a most
dismal, defeated and downtrodden demeanour.
He didn't need telling twice ("Since the
Ball-Bust, I have never said 'No', to her"). "Yes, Miss Billie Jo," he said
respectfully no, with pitiful, pathetic obsequiousness.
I was taken aback, somewhat. This was a side
to my cellmate that I hadn't seen yet.
in rapt fascination, as Ross obediently got up off his lower bunk, and in
meek compliance trudged dejectedly over to the bars of our cell where prison
officer Billie Jo was standing.
Imperiously, she stood there: In obvious
anticipation of her imminent Prisoners' Foot Service pleasures; and
arrogant, in the smug certainty of her dreadful bidding being obediently
carried out to the letter.
As I intently watched Ross's actions, it was
now that I saw just what those eight torpedo-tube like holes in the wall
under the cell's bars were for.
Ross grabbed hold of the cell's bars, and
with an ease of movement resultant of much practice he fully inserted his
legs into two of the floor-level circular-shaped apertures, thus bringing
his torso and head right up to the cell's bars: his chest, on a level with
the Wing walkway's dark-grey painted smooth-concrete floor; his head, at
calf level of prison officer Billie Jo's legs.
Thus, by so lowering himself to a sitting
position on the floor, right where prison officer Billie Jo was standing in
expectation of his Foot Service, my cellmate had demonstrated to me the
method ("the ... ins and outs") by which prisoners 'assumed the position'.
as Ross held on to the cell's bars, just above and about a foot to either
side of his head, prison officer Billie Jo promptly snapped closed around
his wrists the two inset bracelets, securing him in place.
I could hardly believe what I was seeing.
(Later, I would learn the reason why there were eight of these floor-level
holes: for when there were prisoner-overcrowding issues, and consequently
four prisoners were made to temporarily share these abysmal little cells;
the two surplus prisoners, obliged to sleep on pallet-like mattresses on the
Now that Ross had 'assumed the position',
prison officer Billie Jo looked down on him, oozing wickedness.
bearing was greatly intimidating, emanating an almost palpable air of menace
was fear-inspiring. The suggestion of her dark nature was easily
discernible in her voice, too. Mostly, though, the true essence of her
character showed through in her eyes: the ever-present threat of devilry.
Truly, they were the windows of her soul.
secure in her absolute power over the hapless and helpless prisoner at her
feet, prison officer Billie Jo's eyes shone maniacally. Gleamed, with
gleeful, malevolent triumph at having such deliciously gratifying control at
Ross up, she said, "Look at you ... just look at you. You are a pathetic,
miserable excuse for a man, prisoner Chapman ... Aren't you?"
"Yes, Miss Billie Jo, I am," replied Ross
"You are just like all the rest of the male
rubbish in here. Male detritus, who don't know how to behave towards ladies
... Aren't you?"
"Yes, Miss Billie Jo, I am. But, thanks to
you, Miss Billie Jo, and to the other prison officers here, like ... like
Miss Bella Donna, I'm ... I'm learning."
Prison officer Bella Donna piped up, saying
sharply, "And, so you should be, prisoner Chapman! After all, officer Billie
Jo has given you a couple of good lessons, hasn't she, to set you on the
right path? You were erring, and she showed you the errors of your ways,
"Yes, Miss Bella Donna, she did. I was
erring. And, Miss Billie Jo, she ... straightened me out."
"Well, thank officer Billie Jo, then! Show
her your appreciation you miserable, misbegotten ingrate! Do you think,
prisoner Chapman, that us prison officers are here just for the fun of it?"
"Heh heh heh," chuckled prison officer Billie
Jo diabolically. "Heaven forfend, Bel!"
Wretchedly, Ross looked up at prison officer
Billie Jo's gleeful, gloating face and croaked, "Miss Billie Jo, thank you.
I'm grateful, to you. For having all of my teeth pulled out, when I
threatened to bite your foot. And, for ... for busting my balls, for my
repeated non-compliance. I ... I deserved it. Thank you, Miss Billie Jo. For
showing me the errors of my ways, and setting me on the right path."
I could hardly believe what I was hearing.
Apparently satisfied with Ross's showing of
his abject gratitude to her, and with his grovelling expressions of approval
for her having had all of his teeth taken out, and for busting his balls,
prison officer Billie Jo abruptly turned her back on him.
Slipping her right foot from its
prison-officer issue, pale blue, thin-rubber soled flip flop she raised her
foot behind her until the sole of her bare, olive-complexioned foot was just
a couple of inches from Ross's wretched face.
"Prisoner Chapman. Look at the sole of my
foot, and study. Study well. Observe carefully, where your tongue-cleaning
work is most cut-out for you. Where there is the most need, for you to
concentrate your efforts."
"Yes, Miss Billie Jo. I will. I'll look
carefully, Miss Billie Jo," said Ross pathetically.
In the fashion that Ross had described to me
earlier, as she talked down to him I saw prison officer Billie Jo wiggling
and scrunching and splaying her toes, right under his nose, as though to
facilitate the release of her in-between-the-toes aroma. But if Ross was
getting a whiff of the wafting unpleasant foot scent that he'd mentioned
earlier with such distaste, he certainly wasn't daring to flinch from its
olfactory offensiveness now.
"Prisoner Chapman. My feet are dirty. They
are grimy, and all sweaty, too. Especially the balls of my feet, which have
gotten all grubby and the bottoms of my heels, too; see, there ... the
grimy black tidemark, all around the edge? And, do you know how my feet have
gotten like that, prisoner Chapman?"
In a monotone voice almost totally devoid of
animation, and his utter defeat and capitulation absolutely manifest in his
bowed and cowed bearing, Ross miserably replied, "Yes, Miss Billie Jo. I am
ashamed to say that I do. It's because you've been working so very hard all
day. Patrolling the Levels, in your flip flops. Making sure the scumbags in
the cells are all behaving themselves. Keeping an eye on them and keeping
the male vermin where they belong, while they learn how to conduct
themselves with due correctness in the presence of females. It's a thankless
job. But someone has to do it. And it's all because of the likes of me, Miss
Billie Jo. Uncivilised riffraff like me: uncouth, ignorant morons, who have
no notion of nicety, no idea of deference, no inkling of societal decorum,
and who wholly lack a sense of propriety, where females are concerned. There
should be no need for you to be here, Miss Billie Jo. But, because of
disrespectful deadbeats like me, who don't know how to behave towards
ladies, there is. To teach us: the slime-ball, dregs-of-the-earth, scummy
lowlifes in this place, the errors of our ways, and to put us on the right
path. And ... and that is how you end up with dirty feet every day, Miss
"You are correct, prisoner Chapman. Your
interpretation of the situation is one hundred per cent accurate. And, given
that to be the case, is it not only right and proper, and perfectly fitting,
that prisoners are made to clean up after themselves, as it were?"
"Yes, Miss Billie Jo, it is. It is only right
and proper, Miss Billie Jo, that prisoners clean up their own mess, as it
"First, prisoner Chapman, before you give the
soles of my feet a very thorough tongue-cleaning, I'm going to stand here,
at the bars of your cell, and enjoy a well-earned cigarette. And, while I do
so, I'm going to use your face as a footrest. So I'll expect you to keep
your face perfectly still for me. Further more, prisoner Chapman, as I
inhale the vapour from my e-cigarette, I'll expect you to be doing some
inhaling of your own. And I shall expect to feel your sniffing, as, with
your mouth firmly closed, you inhale the scent from under and in between my
"Yes, Miss Billie Jo. I'll be sure to do
that," said the slavishly compliant Ross, with unspeakable dejection.
Suddenly addressing me, prison officer Bella
Donna snapped, "Prisoner Lightwood! You will respectfully stand, in the
presence of prison officers! Stand up! Get up off that seat, fold it, and
pass it through the bars to me. I want to sit down, while I enjoy watching
prisoner Chapman servicing the soles of officer Billy Jo's dirty feet ...
Oh, and prisoner Lightwood? As soon as we're finished here, I'll be
reporting you to the Governor: For failing to offer me a seat, when you
could perfectly well see that I was standing around out here. So you can
consider yourself awarded another month, added on to your original
Rendered temporarily speechless and immobile,
it was only from my shocked surprise and incredulous outrage that I didn't
instantly comply with prison officer Bella Donna's order, as I otherwise
would have done ("and that's when lots of prisoners get caught out, Lenny.
So you'll have to be especially wary of that: be continually on your guard,
ever vigilant against falling into the prison officers' traps.") ... Prison
officer Bella Donna was going to report me to the Governor, and have another
month added on to my three-month sentence! And for what? Hell! Now I was
going to be stuck in here for four months!
But unfortunately, my cellmate misread the
Fearing that my apparent hesitancy indicated
that I was about to be non-compliant, in his concern for me Ross momentarily
turned his head away from his close and careful observation of the dirty
sole of prison officer Billie Jo's right foot, to nod at me, indicating that
I should do as bid by prison officer Bella Donna.
As if she'd been expecting this, prison
officer Billie Jo looked over her shoulder and down at Ross just in time to
catch him out in his disastrous slip.
Immediately, prison officer Billie Jo
gleefully seized her golden, gift-wrapped, handed-to-her-on-a-plate
opportunity; cruel cadences of celebratory, smug and gloating, vindictive
triumph the foremost 'qualities' in her voice.
"Prisoner Chapman!" she shrilled. "How dare
you? I wasn't aware, that we required your say-so! I wasn't aware,
that we needed to wait for your go-ahead! How dare you, make such an
insolent presumption? The Governor shall hear of this! That you consider
yourself so important, that prison officers should wait for your signal of
approval to another prisoner! Well, prisoner Chapman, you can
consider something else: Consider yourself awarded another month,
tagged on to your tariff."
"Yes, Miss Billie Jo," replied Ross, in a
voice that was half croak, half sob. "And ... thank you, Miss Billie Jo. I
... I deserve it."
"Quite right, BJ," agreed prison officer
Bella Donna cattily. "He absolutely deserves it. Absolutely, he does. And,
well done, BJ ... you have managed to 'retain' prisoner Chapman, after all."
As Ross obediently resumed his close study
and careful observation of prison officer Billie Jo's dirty, grimy,
sweat-smudged right sole ("Observe carefully, where your tongue-cleaning
work is most cut-out for you"), still positioned just a couple of inches
from his wretched face, even from where I was (still) sitting I could see
the glistening wetness of spilled tears on the cheeks of his face. The
grief-stricken shaking of his body, was also painfully obvious.
I couldn't bear to see it.
I couldn't bear to watch, such a piteous,
heartrending, convulsive outpouring of irrepressible grief.
I shrank, from observing the sudden, copious
flowing of Ross's tears the tears, of his unimaginably devastating
disappointment. ("I've given her no further reason for complaint, since then
not a one!").
I quailed, at beholding the uncontrollable
shuddering of my cellmate's body the sad sign, of his wretched, unbearable
despair. ("And I'm nearly there now, Lenny I'm nearly there! I've only got
one more week to survive, and then I'm out of here!").
Never before, had I felt so angry. So
outraged. So incensed. So uncontrollably enraged.
I launched myself out of the tubular-framed
dark-grey canvas folding-chair.
But, it wasn't to belatedly obey prison
officer Bella Donna's order to do so. It wasn't to obediently pass the seat
through the cell's bars to her, so that she could sit down while she enjoyed
watching prison officer Billie Jo partaking of Prisoners' Foot Service, as
provided by my soul-crushed cellmate.
neither, was it to respectfully stand, in the presence of prison officers.
No: It was to confront prison officer Billie
"No!" I yelled, my blood boiling in outraged,
righteous fury, unutterably appalled at witnessing Ross's dire distress. And
heartsick, at witnessing his devastating, unspeakable misery yet more
misery, caused by her!
do that!" I railed. "He's supposed to be getting out of here next week! A
"Not any more, he isn't, heh heh heh,"
chuckled prison officer Billie Jo diabolically. "I've got him for another
month, now ... at least. Heh heh heh."
Prison officer Bella Donna opined, "Quite
right, BJ. And I should think so, too. Disobedience needs to be punished,
and non-compliance should always be nipped in the bud or where would we
all be? We will never tolerate it. Another extra month of intensive
correctional tuition will do prisoner Chapman a world of good; especially
under your personal guidance, BJ. Chastisement is the only sure way
for prisoners to learn the errors of their ways and to remember to always
do exactly as they are told."
"All right, prisoner Chapman ..." said prison
officer Billie Jo, carefully cupping the toes of her right foot around
Ross's nostrils "... start sniffing."
"Y ... ye ... yes, Miss Billie Jo," said my
distraught, soul-destroyed cellmate, between his uncontrollable,
I saw Ross's lips compress into a thin,
mouth-sealing line. And then the sounds of his foot-sniffing were quite
audible as, exactly as instructed by prison officer Billie Jo,
closed-mouthed he inhaled her under-the-toes foot scent.
Her human footrest obediently keeping his
face statue-still for her, prison officer Billie Jo gave every appearance of
being blissfully contented: The ball of her right foot, resting on the top
of Ross's nose; the bottom of her heel, pressing firmly into the middle of
his upper forehead; and her toes, cupping his compliantly inhaling nostrils,
prison officer Billie Jo's grip and balance was thus assured and
comfortable, as the tip of her e-cigarette glowed the same pale blue colour
as her Greystone Prison uniform as she 'vaped'.
I just stood and watched the astonishing
scenario, totally at a loss for words.
After what might have been a minute or two,
prison officer Billie Jo looked down on Ross and snapped, "Now, prisoner
Chapman, Foot-Cleaning duties! You know what to do: open your mouth, for me
and open wide. So I'll be all nice and comfortable, when I put my foot
inside it. There's a bit more wiggle room in there for me, isn't there,
prisoner Chapman, since I got rid of all of those pesky teeth?"
"Yes, Miss Billie Jo, there is more wiggle
room for you," said Ross pathetically. "And, Miss Billy Jo, thank you. Thank
you for this privilege. I feel very honoured, that you choose me to do this
for you, Miss Billie Jo. Such a beautiful lady, as yourself. I ... I admire
you, so much."
I could not believe my ears. Even now. Even
after all that I'd heard so far.
Yet, I couldn't help but feel some sort of
admiration for Ross, who even now was still grovelling brilliantly ... as it
Despite the unspeakably malicious, heinous
cruelty of the devastating disappointment that prison officer Billie Jo had
just inflicted upon him, somehow my cellmate was still holding himself
together: refusing to respond further, to her malevolent goading; refusing
to fall again, into another of her despicable traps.
For to do so would be a most disastrous folly
as Ross apparently realised that would allow prison officer Billie Jo to
recommend yet more prison time tagged onto his sentence. A catastrophic
error, that would give her another excuse to go running to the Governor. A
dreadful mistake, that would play right into her slyly manipulating hands,
enabling her to further 'retain' him.
And, damn it all! Ross had come so close to
within just one lousy week to his release from Greystone prison.
So much, then, I thought ... So much, for
behaving yourself. And for keeping your head down. And for keeping your nose
clean. And for being a model prisoner ... if the prison officers were only
going to pull strokes like this!
But now, I could hardly believe my eyes,
either ... When Ross opened his mouth, as wide as he was able, and prison
officer Billie Jo began inserting the toes of her right foot into it;
forcibly stuffing them all in ... Adding injury to insult.
I was aghast: Ross's mouth! His ruined,
toothless mouth his devastating dentistry!
I tapped prison officer Billie Jo on her
shoulder, to protest. "Stop! You can't do this!" I yelled in her ear. "His
mouth! It's it's all"
"Quiet, prisoner Lightwood!" snapped prison
officer Bella Donna. "You are speaking out of turn. And, just as soon as
we've concluded Foot Service proceedings here, I shall be reporting your
behaviour to the Governor, and I'll be recommending that a second extra
month be added onto your sentence. Now: pass me that seat, like I just told
Hell! I thought. That meant I was going to be
stuck in this damn place, for five months now.
But, when I saw the contentedly 'vaping'
prison officer Billie Jo angle the position of her foot in Ross's mouth more
precisely, and then jiggle her foot, thereby causing my cellmate's eyes to
suddenly grow all big and bright and woefully expressive and moist; with
fresh, big tears of pain now about to commingle with his tears of
unspeakable misery I couldn't help but "speak out of turn" again.
Because I understood.
Understood, exactly what prison officer
Billie Jo was doing: she was finding her 'toe-holds'.
Prison officer Billie Jo was probing for the
'toe-holds', in Ross's 'custom-fitted' mouth. She was pushing the ends of
her (fortunately, short toe-nailed) toes, into my highly distraught
cellmate's convenient cavities the commodiously accommodating craters,
created at her own instigation!
In his acute distress, expressive of his
abject, unspeakable wretchedness, Ross began to emit an eerie, barely
audible keening sound.
I was beside myself with outrage.
It was no wonder, that my cellmate's mouth
wasn't healing up!
Helpless, I could only watch prison officer
Billie Jo's heinous subjugation of my cellmate.
I could only look on, sympathetically, as
glistening fat tears of misery coursed down my cellmate's abjectly wretched
face. I could only look on, uselessly, as Ross was forced to contemplate the
grubby, sweat-smudged bottom of prison officer Billie Jo's dominant bare
heel, while she casually and carelessly used his face as her cigarette-break
Apparently comfortably enough settled now,
with the bottom of her right heel resting squarely in the middle of Ross's
forehead to aid balance and stability and surety of purchase, thus anchored
securely, and making the most of her "wiggle room", prison officer Billie Jo
continued puffing away in pleasure on her e-cigarette.
"This is not right!" I cried, clenching my
"And that'll be another month added onto your
sentence, prisoner Lightwood!" said prison officer Bella Donna. "Now, shut
up or I'll shut you up!"
Hell! I thought. Now it was going to be
six months, that I was going to be stuck in this damned hellhole! Why
couldn't I keep my mouth shut?
"Heh heh heh heh," chuckled prison officer
Billie Jo. "Who needs trumped-up charges, Bel? When we've got idiots like
these two chuckle-heads playing right into our hands. Heh heh heh heh."
Prison officer Bella Donna then said to me,
"In fact, prisoner Lightwood, you needn't bother passing that seat through
to me, after all. Because I've decided to shut you up now the way officer
Billie Jo is shutting-up prisoner Chapman: I'm going to have a cigarette,
too, while I enjoy Prisoners' Foot Service."
I said nothing. I just stared back, at prison
officer Bella Donna at Poison Ivy!
And now I was really wishing I'd kept
my fool mouth shut just as Ross had advised me. Why the hell didn't I
listen? All I'd achieved, as a result of my well-intended interfering, was
to get myself an extra three months in this godawful place!
"Well ...? Chop-chop! Come on then, prisoner
Lightwood!" snapped prison officer Bella Donna. "Don't keep me waiting!
Assume the position for Foot Service. Now!"
Still, I said nothing. I just stared right
back at her ... and it was absolutely unnerving. I had never been so scared.
"I won't be telling you again, prisoner
Lightwood. It'll be the cane ... or worse. Now, for the final time. I said:
Foot Service. You can clearly see, from prisoner Chapman's example, what you
are to do. Now: Assume the position!"
For a moment longer, I said nothing. Did
I just stared right back, at prison officer
Bella Donna's uncompromising, concave-bob framed face. Stared right back,
into the implacable, fear-inspiring depths of her ice-blue eyes.
And then I did 'a Ross Chapman'.
I returned to the tubular-framed dark-grey
canvas folding-chair. I picked it up, positioned it right opposite to the
still-standing, still expectant prison officer Bella Donna, and sat down
"No, Miss Bella Donna," I said.
"What ...? What, did you just say to
me, prisoner Lightwood?"
"I said no. I'm not prepared to do that."
Jailhouse Blues continues, in chapter 2 (of 3).
story is written by David, please send comments and appreciation to