story is written by David, please send comments and appreciation to
The Jailhouse Blues Chapter 2 (of 3).
Chapter 2: The Wheel of Chastisement.
was the scariest, most hair-raising moment of my life to
On the outside, I was affecting a calm, untroubled, almost
But, on the inside ...
Prison officer Bella Donna stood ice-statue still, as though
frozen in shock. Being defied by an inmate of HM Greystone
Prison, I thought, must be a very unusual experience for
Her pale blue, chips-of-ice eyes radiated cold ... no wonder
I had started shivering. With chilling certainty, I knew
that she would now make me pay an exorbitant penalty. A very
high price indeed, for refusing to 'assume the position',
and denying her her Prisoners' Foot Service 'privileges'.
When she didn't immediately say anything, in response to my
flat refusal to do her bidding; didn't instantaneously
react, to my stubborn and steadfast refusal to bow to her
authority and obey her odious commands, her colleague,
prison officer Billie Jo, blurted in dismayed incredulity, "Bel!
You are not going to let prisoner Lightwood get away with
that, are you? He has defied you!"
When she received no reply, prison officer Billie Jo
threatened to take it upon herself to administer an instant
and painful remedial response against me. "He needs a good
slap! That's what he needs and a damn good caning! Shall I
fix the little squirt, Bel?" she offered. "I'll soon sort
him out! First, a few good, hard slaps I like the personal
touch; the satisfying sensation of feeling the palm of my
hand smacking into an uppity prisoner's face and making his
eyes water and then I'll restrain him to the bars of his
cell. And, so help me, I'll soon get him thinking straight!
I'll cane him like there's no tomorrow! Oh, I'll make his
eyes water, all right! I'm certainly not going to just idly
stand by, and let him get away with all kinds of"
cautioned prison officer Bella Donna. "Hold your fire, BJ.
And calm down it's just not worth getting all het up over
a prisoner. Besides, I can see how much you are enjoying
yourself ... so stay where you are. Of course I'm not going
to let prisoner Lightwood get away with defying me you
know me better than that. No, BJ. Quite the contrary. I was
just thinking, that's all. Thinking about what to do about
his noncompliance; about what would be the appropriate
corrective measures to take."
know what I'd do, Bel."
This is an important decision. And careful consideration is
called for, if I'm to achieve optimal results. In a case
such as this, where the ultimate aim is to ensure that a
satisfactory outcome is secured long-term, choosing the
right corrective-discipline option now, right at the outset,
you'll make the right decision, Bel: The choice that will
most benefit prisoner Lightwood."
"So ... if
I'm going to mould prisoner Lightwood, BJ, the way you have
moulded prisoner Chapman: if I'm going to train him no,
condition him, to automatically accommodate all of my
own personal likes, preferences and requirements with regard
to Foot Service to serve me, now and in the long-term, the
way that prisoner Chapman is now so slavishly serving you
I think I should break him in right from the get-go."
couldn't agree more, Bel."
to crush that rebellious streak right out of him now,
immediately first as last. Purge it from his system. I'll
prescribe a rebalancing therapy for prisoner Lightwood. A
single-course programme, that will not only put an instant
stop to his irksome serial misdemeanours, but will also
serve to eradicate such inappropriate-behaviour patterns
permanently: Post-therapy, there will be no more speaking
out of turn, from friend Lightwood. No more troublesome
antics. No more disrespect. No more noncompliance. No more
defiance. In short: no more saying 'No'. All of his present
misbehaviour patterns will be safely consigned to his past."
a plan, Bel."
reformed prisoner Lightwood will be an altogether more
agreeable person: Unfailingly respectful. Unfailingly
compliant. Unfailingly obedient. In other words: he won't be
saying 'No' anymore. Not to me. Not to you. And not to any
other prison officer."
you'll get no argument from me on that score, Bel."
"So, I think
there's only one thing for it ... If I'm to successfully nip
prisoner Lightwood's errant ways in the bud, the ultimate
sanction is called for. Correctional treatment of the
highest order: a Ball-Bust, administered on the Wheel of
said so yourself, BJ, it's a sure cure for prisoners'
defiance. At least, it's as close to a surefire remedy as
we've been able to devise. Occasions when prisoners have
actually remained unbroken have not responded positively
to the treatment; not even to the follow-up double, and then
finally triple-dose treatments are few and far between."
The prisoners we refer to as the 'One-in-a-hundred's: The
freak minority, who are so totally averse, just so
overwhelmingly repulsed by the prospect of submitting to
Foot Service, that even repeated Ball-Bust treatments can't
cure their phobia-like disinclination."
failure rate of the Ball-Bust therapy is extremely low,
isn't it, Bel? And I'm not surprised!"
statistics speak for themselves, BJ. When administered on
the Wheel of Chastisement, the prison's ultimate reformative
sanction delivers an almost perfect success rate:
ninety-nine per cent. Hence the so-called 'One-in-a-hundred'
freak minority of failures those
rare breed, tiny-minority prisoners, who would actually
prefer to let us ruin them in our attempts to cure them.
Those unbreakable One-in-a-hundred exceptions, who are the
tiny flaw in our almost perfect Ball-Bust statistics, are an
anomaly an aberration."
we can't cure them, Bel, no one can!"
"And then on
the opposite side of that same coin, BJ, are the prisoners
who are equally unsuited to being institutionalised in
Greystone Prison but for the exact opposite reason: the
foot fetishists. Those other freak-minority prisoners, who,
upon their being discovered to have a foot fetish are
transferred to another institution."
should think so too prisoners aren't sent here to enjoy
themselves! Foot fetishists of all things! I ask you! I
couldn't believe it, the first time I found a prisoner
actually enjoying tongue-cleaning the soles of my dirty feet
actually getting a humungous erection from it! Or at
least, he was, until I went into his cell and dragged him
out of his assuming-the-position position and gave him a
damn good caning to help take his mind off it before putting
him in the prisoner transfer holding cell. Naturally I'd
assumed he was getting so hot under the collar from me
letting him look right up my skirt especially since I
wasn't wearing my panties that day ... But Bel, I knew you'd
be thinking along those lines. And it's exactly what I'd do,
too I love a good Ball-Bust!"
"BJ, if ever
a prisoner needed his balls busting, it is prisoner
Lightwood. Look at him, BJ. Even now, he is still brazenly
staring at my face, instead of respectfully staring down at
my feet. And he's still sitting in that folding-chair, even
after I've expressly told him that he must stand in the
presence of prison officers and so actually he is also
disrespecting and defying you too, BJ."
officer Billie Jo glared malevolently at me. "He needs
fixing, Bel," she said. "And fixing good."
I'm going to fix him, all right once and for all. I'm
going to make him wish he'd never set eyes on me. Disrespect
me, will he? Disobey me, will he? Defy me, will he? Say 'No'
to me, will he? Well, not any more. I'll soon get him
thinking straight thinking coherently and logically. After
today, prisoner Lightwood will never dare say 'No' to me
again ever. I'm going to cow him, crush him, break him
bring him to heel."
you, Bel. He can't be allowed to get away with treating you
this way and as you say, when he disrespects and disobeys
and defies you he is by implication actually disrespecting
and disobeying and defying me and every other prison officer
too. And it's not on, is it? I mean, where would we all be,
if we let such behavior go unchecked? Where would we all be,
if we let prisoners cock a snook at our authority whenever
they felt like it? And you've got the right idea, Bel: if
there's anything I've learned, it's that in matters of
correctional discipline it's better not to pussyfoot about
with the prisoners it's better to be cruel to be kind."
exactly my way of thinking, BJ."
prisoner Chapman first flouted my authority, I thought I'd
stomped down good and hard on him. I thought I'd done enough
to get him thinking straight thinking coherently and
logically right there and then. I thought I'd straightened
him out. But I was wrong. It turned out I hadn't put my foot
down even nearly hard enough you know, Bel; with the
dental thing, when I had the prison doctor pull all of
prisoner Chapman's teeth, because he'd threatened to bite my
foot if I put it in his mouth?"
"Ha ha ha!
How could I forget? That was an inspired comeback, BJ. What
a perfectly suitable comeuppance, for the disobedient little
scrote. Hey! We'll have to give prisoner Chapman a nickname
... I know, how about ... 'Gummy'?"
Suits him perfectly, Bel. Oh, and that reminds me: now that
I know I'll be retaining old Gummy here long-term, I'll have
to see if I can get some NHS second-hand dentures for him
from the prison doctor ... I'll be sure to choose him some
nice ones, heh heh heh."
"Ha ha ha
ha! BJ, you are a star! Serves him right! I can't wait to
see his new choppers well, new to him! Ha ha ha ha!"
"Heh heh heh
... Anyway, Bel, where was I?"
telling me about what you did about prisoner Chapman old
Gummy, here defying you. When for some reason he didn't
like the idea of you putting your foot in his mouth."
"Oh, yes ...
Well, I'd obviously not stomped down on prisoner Chapman
hard enough. Because when I returned to his cell a week
later, just as I'd told him I would, it was only to find
that he hadn't learned his lesson. I'd thought that, when
I'd had all of his teeth removed from his mouth, I was
simultaneously removing the word 'No' from his vocabulary
at least, in as far as the word pertained to me. But he
still wasn't thinking straight thinking coherently and
logically. He was the sort of prisoner the Governor likes to
describe as a 'slow learner'. When I told him to assume the
position, and ready himself to provide me with Foot Service,
he told me, in that snivelling, plaintive voice of his:
'We've been through all of this, Miss Billie Jo! Don't you
remember, Miss Billie Jo? About the line I won't cross?' You
can imagine my surprise, Bel."
"Ha ha ha
ha!" laughed prison officer Bella Donna, greatly amused at
prison officer Billie Jo's cruel parodying of Ross. And I
had to admit: prison officer Billie Jo's imitation of my
whinging-voiced cellmate was astonishingly spot on. She
definitely had quite a talent for mimicry.
officer Billie Jo went on, "I think after the damn good
caning I'd given him a week earlier, he was prepared to
massage my feet for me; even reconciled himself to letting
me use his face as a footrest. But he was still hung up
about letting me put my foot in his mouth. I could hardly
believe it, Bel, to be honest with you. I mean, how stupid
is he? He'd had a full week to get his head around what was
expected of him; that should have been plenty of time to
come to terms with it. I was going to have my way with him
in the end; surely he had to know that? Is he a moron, or
what? Did he actually think I was going to allow him to
cherry-pick? Why did he have to make things so difficult for
himself and for me? I thought: 'Right! No more
pussyfooting about! If this, is what being nice does!
If this, is where being lenient gets me!' Suffice to
say, Bel, I wasn't best pleased, with his pointless
said prison officer Bella Donna, glaring angrily down at my
cellmate, who was assuming the position for Foot Service at
prison officer Billie Jo's feet. "And neither would I have
been, BJ, if faced with such wilful obstinacy."
officer Billie Jo continued, "So, when he defied me that
second time; tried to take advantage of my good nature
again, I was having none of it. I didn't pussyfoot about
this time oh no! I thought: 'I'm going to bust his
slow-learning balls for him!' So I did what I should have
done in the first place, instead of being so softhearted: I
applied to the Governor for a Written Approval Order, to
have him put on the Wheel of Chastisement."
old 'Be-cruel-to-be-kind thing again, isn't it, BJ? So much
of our prisoners' needless pain and suffering could so
easily be saved. But they will insist upon bringing it upon
themselves. The prisoners are their own worst enemies, BJ.
They need saving from themselves."
Bel. The Governor thinks that Greystone's rules and
punishments are strict enough and severe enough already. But
I would very much like to see them much further reinforced.
A more stringent, tough-love regime could only be good for
the prisoners' welfare; could only help them to stay in
line, and out of trouble. But we have no say in these
matters, Bel. We are just prison officers, aren't we? We
don't make new rules, we just ensure that the current ones
are strictly enforced."
absolutely agree, BJ. The prisoners have much too cushy a
time of it here much too cushy a time! Oh, things would be
very different, if we had any say!"
Anyway, Bel, as I was saying ... The ball was in prisoner
Chapman's court, wasn't it? How he played it, was entirely
up to him. Simply by doing what I'd told him to do assume
the position he could have saved himself from all of that
pain and suffering, down in the gymnasium. Simply by using
his own initiative obeying my orders to provide me with
Foot Service he could so easily have avoided his harrowing
ordeal; could so easily have spared himself his terrible
humiliation, in front of an audience of female prison
officers. But he chose not to. Instead, he chose to resist
futilely. Like I said, Bel, he wasn't thinking straight
thinking coherently and logically ... But he is now."
that's what the Greystone Prison motto should be: 'Be Cruel
to be Kind'. It says it all, doesn't it? It would be such a
good policy to adopt. I mean ... it does no good, does it,
to go too easy on the prisoners? Not in the long run. We'd
be doing them no favours, if we cut them some slack. That
could only be to their detriment. We wouldn't be acting in
their best interests, if we didn't bring them to book
didn't forcefully address the errors of their ways each
and every time they behaved with impropriety, where females
are concerned. If we came over all hearts-and-flowers all of
the time, and let them make a song and dance about every
little thing, well, it would only have a negative,
rehabilitation-hindering influence on them, that could only
in turn adversely affect their life-chances ... And, I
remember the Governor was quite amenable to your Ball-Bust
request, wasn't she, BJ?"
Governor was as good as gold about it, Bel. Once I'd
explained my case; made her fully aware of the nature of
prisoner Chapman's repeated noncompliance, she immediately
approved my request to have a Ball-Bust. She was absolutely
all for it. She told me that such obdurate noncooperation
from prisoners was intolerable, and can never go unchecked.
She said: 'Officer Billie Jo, whatever needs to be done,
must be done. We can't have prisoners saying 'No' to us!'
She said she was rather surprised that prisoner Chapman's
first course of treatment hadn't done the trick, but that,
unless he was one of the rare breed One-in-a-hundred
category of prisoner, the stronger medicine I was now
prescribing for him would be sure to cure him. She even
fast-tracked the Written Approval Order for the Wheel of
Chastisement so that I could administer prisoner Chapman's
remedial therapy without delay ... And, as you can see, Bel
... he's been all the better for it. The results speak for
themselves, don't they? Oh, it did him a world of good, his
little ride on the Wheel. He's never said 'No' to me,
and that's exactly what I'm thinking ... That a ride on the
Wheel of Chastisement will do prisoner Lightwood the world
of good, too. That it will clear his head. That it will get
him wearing his thinking-cap. That it will make him see
reason. That it will get him thinking straight thinking
coherently and logically."
"Oh, I think
it will, Bel ... prisoner Lightwood doesn't look like a
One-in-a-hundred to me."
to me, either ... I think he's just being stubborn. Just
being obdurate. In disrespecting me, in disobeying me, in
defying me, in not bowing to my authority, he must know that
he is letting himself in for a world of pain and humiliation
surely, his cellmate must have warned him? I think he's
just showing token resistance, that's all. Pseudo macho
bravado. That's why he said 'No' to me. He's trying to save
a bit of face. He doesn't think much to the consequences of
Just like his cellmate and we all know what happened to
I'm going to radio Control, and do exactly as you did: I'm
going to ask Natalie to see if she can get the Governor to
fast-track a Written Approval Order for the Wheel of
Chastisement. So that I can get things in motion for the
Ball-Bust now, straight away, and administer prisoner
Lightwood's remedial therapy without delay."
for the best, Bel. You'll see. Prisoner Lightwood is
obviously every bit as stupid as his idiot cellmate, and he
needs his retarded mind making up for him as well. Absolute
imbeciles, the both of them. Talk about slow learners! What
a pair they make. Obviously they were both right at the very
back of the queue when the brains were given out, and
they've had to make do with what was left."
Turning to me, prison officer Billie Jo said with malicious
glee, "Did you hear all that, prisoner Lightwood? Eh?
Officer Bella Donna is going to have your balls! She's going
to bust your balls! And it is going to really, really
hurt! And, do you know something? I hope I get to watch it.
And not just the Ball-Bust itself, but also what happens to
you right after. In fact, with any luck I might even be
assigned to the caning-party. The Wheel of Chastisement is a
sure cure for prisoners' defiance just ask your cellmate.
I soon crushed the resistance out of him not that the
little worm was much of a challenge ... And look at him now,
prisoner Lightwood. Just look at him now ..."
I looked at him now ... As far as my cellmate was concerned,
there was no arguing with prison officer Billie Jo's grasp
of the state of affairs.
"Just five minutes on the Wheel of Chastisement. That was
plenty of time to sort prisoner Chapman out. More than
enough. By the time I'd finished with him finished
administering my five barefoot kicks to his fully exposed
testicles he was all nice and clear-headed. Oh yes. He was
certainly wearing his thinking-cap! All of a sudden, lo and
behold: he was thinking straight thinking coherently and
logically. At last, he'd seen the errors of his ways. He was
suddenly seeing reason: he'd knelt at my feet, grovelled
with apology, vowed his future obedience, and literally
begged to provide whatever manner of Foot Service I
might wish to avail myself of him he'd do anything, he
told me, to avoid another Ball-Bust."
My god! I thought. What sort of woman was she?
"Yes: he'd finally managed to cross his stupid 'line'. You
know, the line he'd told me he wouldn't cross? But, believe
me, he crossed it the hard way. So hard, he cried himself to
sleep that night and for nights after, too ... And,
prisoner Lightwood, by the time officer Bella Donna has
finished with you, you'll be all nice and
clear-headed, too. Oh yes. You'll be wearing your
thinking-cap. And then you'll be thinking straight
thinking coherently and logically: You'll see the
errors of your ways, at last. And then you'll start
seeing reason. You'll be grovelling with apology,
vowing your future obedience, and literally begging
officer Bella Donna to let you provide whatever
manner of Foot Service, for her! And, prisoner
Lightwood, when you are crying yourself to sleep
tonight and for nights after, too remember: you asked
My blood had turned to ice-water.
remembered some of what my cellmate had told me of his own experience on the
Wheel of Chastisement. Some of the ... highlights of his own Ball-Bust
"remedial therapy", administered by prison officer Billie Jo.
prison officer Bella Donna was talking of administering to me, the very same
"rebalancing therapy" corrective-punishment treatment.
there may have been a small number of occasions when I might possibly have
deserved it, I'd never been kicked in the testicles before. Fortunately, up
until now I had managed to avoid or my aggrieved girlfriends had
mercifully spared me the ... "ultimate sanction".
thought I had some idea of what the pain would be like. Some idea, of how it
would actually feel. Some idea, of the sorts of anguishment I would go
through, when prison officer Bella Donna kicked me in the testicles.
I? How could I? How could I possibly?
told me it was "beyond imagining".
hadn't been just one kick, either.
said he'd suffered kick, after kick, after kick, right between his
restrained, widely-spread-apart legs, from prison officer Billie Jo. This,
while other prison officers, taking it in turns, had expertly and
mercilessly caned his bare bottom.
they did so, these caning-party prison officers of sadistic leanings had
enthusiastically encouraged each other. Had applauded each other, in mutual
appreciation. Had high-fived, in congratulation. Had whooped and whistled,
in malicious excitement. Had laughed, giggled, tittered and chuckled, in
malevolent merriment. Had leered, sneered and jeered, in derision. Had
hooted with glee. In short: the assemblage of female prison officers had
revelled, in the sad and sorry spectacle of his unspeakable misery.
administered by prison officer Bella Donna, I was about to get a dose of the
same 'therapeutic treatment'.
officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo, I was sure, could now sense my fear, see
my fear smell my fear.
officer Billie Jo, looking scornfully down on my cellmate, assuming the
position for Foot Service for her, said with scathing, utter contempt, "As
for you, prisoner Chapman, I'm done with you for now. Get back to your
freeing Ross's wrists from the restraints inset to the cell's bars, but
before he could move, prison officer Billie Jo dealt a malicious back-heel
kick to his nose; the wickedly executed blow from the bottom of her bare
heel bringing a deluge of fresh tears of pain, hurt and humiliation to
Ross's already red-rimmed and tear-crusted eyes. He seemed stunned; dizzied,
by the cruelly delivered, deceptively powerful kick, as if the brutal blow
had sent his brain sloshing about in his head, and he was waiting for it to
"I said move!" snapped
prison officer Billie Jo impatiently when Ross failed to respond with
instant obedience to her command. "Do as I tell you, you snivelling little
specimen! And now! Do not make me repeat myself. Well ...? Go on Gummy! If
you are not back beside your bunk within the next twenty seconds, you will
receive ten strokes of my cane!"
few minutes ago, I would have stood up for Ross. I would have protested
bitterly at this outrage, and vehemently accosted prison officer Billie Jo
in my cellmate's behalf.
was a few minutes ago.
slow on the uptake but I was learning fast ... Now, I kept my mouth firmly
Miss Billie Jo," replied Ross wretchedly. "And, thank you, Miss Billie Jo.
Thank you, Miss Billie Jo, for allowing me to serve you. And for choosing
astonishing capacity for spot-on mimicry, prison officer Billie Jo parodied
cruelly, "'Yes, Miss Billie Jo. Thank you, Miss Billie Jo. Yes, Miss Billie
Jo. Thank you, Miss Billie Jo' Shut up, cretin!" she yelled, her
attractive, olive-complexioned face contorted now with unrestrained
ha ha!" laughed prison officer Bella Donna, tickled pink at her colleague's
cruel but startlingly accurate and true-to-life imitation of my cellmate's
pathetic grovelling. "Ha ha ha ha! You are too much, BJ!"
want to listen to any more of your pathetic grovelling!" yelled prison
officer Billie Jo, further haranguing my hapless cellmate. "You make me
sick! Do you know that? No you can really have no idea! Get back to your
bunk, Mouse man. And quick or I'll put you on the Wheel of Chastisement
too! I've given up being nice to you! Given up being such a soft touch! Such
a namby-pamby tenderheart! There'll be no more flowers-and-chocolates
treatment from me, in future! So you had better get that inside your
head and fast! Because the moment you start slacking, Gummy, is the moment
I'll be paying the Governor another visit!"
sob, half croak, Ross replied, "Yes, Miss Billie Jo. Anything you say, Miss
Billie Jo. Whatever you want, Miss Billie"
shut up, you ... my god, words fail me Nincompoop! Get back beside your
bunk. And now Gummy! If I have to repeat myself again ..."
great alacrity my cellmate began extricating his legs from the floor-level
torpedo-tube like holes under the cell's bars, into which they were fully
much more awkward and laborious to get out of the assuming-the-position
position, I now saw as I sat and watched, than it was to get into it
especially so, in a panicky race against time.
on anxiously as Ross strove desperately to beat prison officer Billie Jo's
cruelly imposed deadline; surely at least half of her twenty-second time
limit was up.
never make it! I thought, concerned for my cellmate he was about to get
ten strokes of prison officer Billie Jo's cane!
to grab Ross's arms, and help him to get his legs out of those damned holes
in the wall. Help him to quickly extricate himself, from his
hesitated to do so.
wary as to how prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo would react: was
this another, of their one-month-extra-prison-time incurring traps? I didn't
want to risk it couldn't afford to risk it. I had already fallen for them
three times, thereby enabling prison officer Bella Donna to incrementally
increase my original three-month sentence up to a soul-crushing six
time I kept my own counsel: I kept my mouth firmly shut, and stayed the hell
out of it.
happened though, I needn't have worried. Ross's movements were quick and
fluid and methodical he'd obviously been getting in lots of practise and
he made the designated safety of the bunks just in time.
said prison officer Billie Jo disappointedly. "I was just starting to look
forward to a nice bit of caning practise."
worry, BJ," consoled prison officer Bella Donna. "You'll get plenty more
officer Bella Donna then detached the walkie-talkie radio that was clipped
to the waistband of her uniform pale-blue short skirt. Boring into mine, her
ice-blue eyes were unwavering; piercing, like mind-reading orbs as she spoke
into her transmitter.
... This is officer Bella Donna. I have a situation. Over."
a short burst of radio static, and then prison officer Natalie's voice came
on. "This is Control ... Yes, officer Bella Donna? What is your situation?
... Assistance required. Repeat: assistance required, at cell sixteen, Level
One. Officer Natalie, could you please request the Governor to fast-track a
Written Approval Order, in the name of prisoner Leonard Lightwood, for the
Wheel of Chastisement? And send any available officers to assist officer
Billie Jo and me in escorting prisoner Lightwood down to the gymnasium, in
case he won't go quietly? Over."
brief pause, prison officer Natalie came back on. "Received, officer Bella
Donna. Copy that. Stand by, please, for imminent confirmation on your
Written Approval Order request. But assistance on way. Repeat: we have
assistance on way. Officers Cassandra, Victoria, Louise and Cora are now
proceeding with all speed to cell sixteen, Level One. Over and out."
seconds, the air came alive with the by now familiar, highly irritating and
annoying slap slap slap slapping sound of flip flops; the multiple pairs of
rapidly approaching thin-rubber soled flip flops, an ominous cacophony of
slapping against the bare heels of their urgently proceeding female prison
Commingling, was the dreadful sound of the four rapidly responding Jailhouse
Blues' canes. Rattling against the dark-grey painted bars of each prison
cell they hurried past, the threatening sound of the prison officers'
instruments of chastisement noisily resounded; their bamboo battle cry,
reaching each and every part of the five Levels.
As one, prison officers
Cassandra, Victoria, Louise and Cora arrived at cell 16 and they made a
formidable and intimidating sight. With their specially adapted, uniform
regulation concave bob hairstyle, and wielding their instruments of
deterrence and chastisement in an eager, ready-for-anything attitude, their
demeanour was very distinctly no-nonsense and all business.
breathless from her on-the-double dash, prison officer Cassandra inquired
with a frown on her face, "Bel? BJ? What's going down? We just got the call
from Nat, requesting the four of us to get here at the double."
officer Bella Donna replied, "Take it easy, Cassie. It's nothing that BJ and
me couldn't handle on our own. It's just that I believe in using
can supply that!" hinted prison officer Louise, flexing her whippy bamboo
cane. "I can always use an opportunity to hone my caning skills. And
besides, a bit of practise never does any harm except to the prisoners'
backsides! Ha ha ha ha!"
might get your chance, Lou ... down in the gymnasium," responded prison
officer Billie Jo meaningfully.
officer Cora said, "What ... there's going to be a Ball-Bust?"
officer Bella Donna replied, her voice all matter-of-fact, "We're just
awaiting the Governor's official endorsement. But yes, Cora, there's going
to be a Ball-Bust. For prisoner Lightwood, here. He's not thinking straight
thinking coherently and logically. He said 'No' to me. As we speak, the
necessary paperwork is being processed; the Governor is fast-tracking my
requested Written Approval Order for the Wheel of Chastisement. As sponsor,
I'll be the principle administrator of prisoner Lightwoods therapeutic
officer Victoria, a leggy, early twenties, incredibly gorgeous blue-eyed
blonde, who had only the previous week joined the 'Blues', said excitedly in
her posh, Home Counties accent, "Oh, my gosh! Can I kick prisoner Lightwood
in the balls, too? I've never kicked a man in the balls before. It must be
the coolest thing! Of all of the amazing benefits of working here great
salary; long holidays; generous duvet-day allowance; medical insurance;
fabulous early-retirement pension plan it was the thing that most
attracted me to the prison officer's job at Greystone Prison: The promise of
opportunities to kick men where it hurts the most and with no possible
comebacks! Actually being able to kick them right in the goolies and they
can't do a thing about it! Not a thing! Ha ha ha ha! So ... can I, do you
think? Kick prisoner Lightwood in the balls?"
officer Cassandra replied, "No, Vicky. I'm sorry, but no. The regulations
clearly state that only the prison officer administering the Ball-Bust
chastisement can perform the actual ball-kicking. That's what Bel meant,
when she said that as sponsor she would be the 'principle' administrator of
prisoner Lightwood's punishm I mean, therapeutic treatment."
sort of the point, Vicky," prison officer Louise explained further. "It's to
enable the particular prison officer in question in this case, officer
Bella Donna to drive home the point, to the particular prisoner in
question in this case, prisoner Lightwood that she is never to be
defied, and always obeyed."
said prison officer Victoria, the single word speaking volumes in
crestfallen disappointment. "I know about the routine, every-day
ball-kicking practise sessions, with the One-in-a-hundred prisoners. The
prisoners who won't, and can't be made to submit to Foot Service. The
unbreakable, ruined prisoners, with the nearly extinct balls. The Governor
told me about those, during my interview. And I'm scheduled to attend one of
those ball-kicking practise sessions tomorrow afternoon. But it won't be the
same, kicking them in the balls, will it? I mean, if they are almost
beyond hurting. Where's the fun in that?"
the dead-nut One-in-a-hundred prisoners in the balls, during routine
ball-kicking practise sessions, isn't the same, no," admitted prison officer
Cora. "There's no denying that. Obviously, you don't get anything like the
same level of satisfaction, that you get from administering an actual
Ball-Bust treatment. Because I can tell you, Vicky: there's absolutely
nothing and I mean, nothing that can compare with the wonderful
sense of achievement you experience, when you see your own, personally
administered Ball-Bust treatment curing a prisoner's irrational thinking."
still a hoot, Vicky," said prison officer Louise consolingly. "I mean,
kicking the One-in-a-hundred's right in the plums, time and time again and
some of them will barely react! It's so funny. So it's still worthwhile,
Vicky. And after all: practise makes perfect. Which you'll pretty much need
to be, Vicky, before the Governor will endorse your performing an actual
to worry, Vicky you little vixen!" said prison officer Cora. "You'll get
plenty of opportunities here, in Greystone prison, to kick men's 'live',
unruined balls. Pretty soon, you'll be a seasoned ball-kicker yourself and
a quite expert one, too, I don't doubt!"
prison officer Victoria's face brightened, and her face was incredibly
lovely as she said, "Do you think, Cora?"
certainly do! But the idea of a Ball-Bust, Vicky, as Lou just alluded, is to
bring stubborn, but treatable prisoners to heel. To get prisoners who at
first say 'No' to us, like prisoner Lightwood, here, thinking straight
thinking coherently and logically. To give them a second chance and even a
third, and final chance, in the extremely unlikely event of that drastic
action proving necessary. So the objective of the Ball-Bust treatment,
Vicky, is to rehabilitate such ... reluctant prisoners. To reform them. To
cure them. Not to ruin them."
officer Bella Donna added, "But, Vicky, the One-in-a-hundreds ... well, they
can't be cured. They just can't. With them, it's not about standing up for
themselves as a man, because it's an intolerable affront to their manhood
though of course there is that, too, but such ... alpha, female-domination
averse males don't usually resist beyond a second Ball-Bust treatment. No.
The actual, dyed-in-the-wool One-in-a-hundred's can't be made to submit to
Foot Service, because it's anathema to them. They are simply just too
grossed out by the idea. It's a mental thing. A phobia. When they say
'No' to us, they mean 'No'. And their minds can't be changed. They
just can't cope with the thought, of assuming the position, and serving at
our feet. The very idea of it is wholly repugnant to them. It's an
insurmountable aversion to feet, that even all of our best-effort
ball-kicking treatments can't overcome. They simply let us ruin them, in our
attempts to cure them. It just doesn't matter, Vicky, how many times I, or
BJ, or you might kick a One-in-a-hundred in the balls, he still won't submit
to providing Foot Service."
officer Billie Jo said, "So, Vicky, if those prisoners won't cooperate in
the administering of their own therapeutic treatment if they won't provide
Foot Service for us, thereby laying down the necessary foundations for us to
cure them of their improprieties, where females are concerned until we
finally move them on to another institution we just get some other uses out
of them such as ball-kicking practise."
officer Victoria was about to reply again no doubt, I thought, to take
issue with what she'd just been told about the proclaimed 'invincibility' of
the One-in-a-hundred prisoners but then suddenly there was a crackle of
static from the prison officers' radios as prison officer Natalie came back
on-air. "This is Control ... Control, calling officer Bella Donna. Over."
"Received, Control. This is officer Bella Donna. Over."
Bella Donna, you can go ahead. Repeat: you can go ahead, with prisoner
Lightwood's prescribed therapeutic treatment. The Governor has granted your
Written Approval Order request. As we speak, prison officers assigned to
attend the Ball-Bust are readying the Wheel of Chastisement for use. As
usual, the Governor herself will be presiding over the operation. The
Governor has asked me to inform you that she has assigned you and the five
officers with you to make up six of the caning-party's twelve-officer
complement. You are clear to proceed, officer Bella Donna. Please escort
prisoner Lightwood down to the gymnasium forthwith. Over and out."
exclaimed prison officer Billie Jo gleefully. "Okay, then. Let's get this
show on the road!"
officer Victoria looked me right in the eye ... and she scared me. She
really scared me.
pretty sure I wouldn't like what she was thinking. Wouldn't like, one little
bit, just what was going on inside her lovely head.
face was a picture of gleeful, barely controlled excitement. Of dark,
delicious anticipation. The shining orbs of her bright blue eyes spoke of a
cruel passion. Spoke, eloquently, of a sadistic yearning.
gosh yes! Let's!" she gushed enthusiastically in her posh, Home Counties
accented, privileged-and-pampered sounding voice.
wanted to get the show on the road, too.
* * *
you to accompany me.
the basement of Greystone Prison, to the prison officers' gymnasium ... to
the Wheel of Chastisement ...
Mob-handed, the six prison officers came crowding into cell 16, and Ross,
who'd respectfully remained standing in the presence of prison officers,
leaped up onto his top bunk like a baboon evading a pride of lions, and I
offered no resistance as prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo
handcuffed my wrists to theirs.
down in the lift," said prison officer Bella Donna to her five colleagues.
"It'll be a bit of a tight squeeze, but it can carry up to seven people at a
Handcuffed to prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo on either side of
me, I was thus marched along Level 1's West Wing walkway to the nearest of
the two lifts; prison officers Cassandra and Victoria led the way, while
prison officers Louise and Cora fell into prisoner escort formation behind.
happened, the lift was already at Level 1, and the doors opened immediately
upon prison officer Billie Jo pressing the Call button. "Come on, you," she
told me, as she and prison officer Bella Donna entered the lift first.
Prison officers Cassandra, Victoria, Louise and Cora followed. Once we were
all shut in, prison officer Cora pressed the 'G' button that would take us
down one Level to the Ground Floor.
seven people in the lift, it was so cramped that, with prison officers Bella
Donna and Billie Jo and myself at the back of the lift and facing towards
the door, and the other four prison officers facing towards us, prison
officer Victoria's not insubstantial breasts were pressing into my chest.
prettily, and with her face so close to mine that I could smell her
sweet-scented breath, the angelic-looking prison officer Victoria told me as
the lift slowly descended the one Floor, "I hope you defy me, prisoner
Lightwood, when I come to you for Foot Service. I hope you say 'No' to me.
I'll soon get you thinking straight thinking coherently and logically.
I'll kick your balls so hard, you'll think you've grown a couple of new
the other prison officers too, who chuckled in amusement; prison officer
Billie Jo, exclaiming with delighted approbation to prison officer Bella
Donna: "We could do with a few more like her she's a natural!"
though? I thought better of saying anything in reply, as, standing chest to
chest with prison officer Victoria, through the thin fabric of her uniform
pale-blue blouse I could actually feel her nipples hardening in sadistic
lust as I stared back at her up-close sugar-sweet face.
no elegant 'ping' to announce the lift's arrival at the Ground Floor, just a
very sudden jolt, that might have rocked its passengers off their feet had
we not been crammed into the thing like too many pilchards into a can.
exiting the lift my six escorts regrouped into formation, and they marched
me across the open expanse of the Ground Floor; the slapping of their flip
flops sounding all businesslike and purposeful as we strode on the diagonal
towards the steps that led down to the basement.
were about half-way across, something made me look up. And I saw that,
leaning on the safety-rails on every Wing walkway on all five Levels,
Wing-patrolling prison officers were staring down at us ... or rather,
staring down at me: the 'condemned' man.
officer Billie Jo suddenly jerked me to a standstill, and angrily glowered
at me. "Do not provoke me, prisoner Lightwood!" she snapped. "You will keep
your eyes respectfully lowered, focused upon the feet of officers Cassandra
and Victoria in front of you!"
respectfully lowered my eyes to her own, olive-complexioned feet, focusing
my gaze upon her unvarnished toenails. "Yes, Miss Billie Jo," I said
respectfully. Because I knew she'd give my face "a good slap" there and then
if I didn't.
dark-grey painted smooth-concrete stairway, was a large sign, indicating
that the prison officers' Bar, the Foot Massage Room, and the gymnasium were
all to be accessed downstairs.
before, prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo and myself were sandwiched
between the other four prison officers; prison officers Cassandra and
Victoria again leading the way, while prison officers Louise and Cora
followed behind as we descended the steps of the narrow stairwell.
bottom of the steps, directly facing us across a narrow corridor was a
double-door entrance. Above the white-painted doors were three signs, all
with pale-blue letters printed on a white background.
in the middle had a downward-pointing arrow, and read simply: Gym. The sign
on the left had a leftward-pointing arrow, and read simply: Bar. The sign on
the right had a rightward-pointing arrow, and read: Foot Massage Room. These
last two facilities were accessed as directed, via the corridor leading off
to left and right.
officers Cassandra and Victoria crossed the corridor and pushed their way
through the double-door entrance, leading the way into the gymnasium. The
rest of us followed.
gymnasium was larger than I'd imagined. At first glance, it seemed pretty
much fully equipped. Over-equipped, in fact ... with the Wheel of
assembled in the gymnasium, were the twenty or so prison officers who had
been assigned to attend and, some of them, actively participate in my
"therapeutic treatment" ... Including, I noticed with great trepidation,
prison officers Natalie and Melanie I'd seen quite enough of those two
of unmistakable authority then looked our way, upon her noticing our
entrance into the gymnasium.
Instinctively, I knew she was not a woman you said 'No' to.
me, and caught my eye right away ... and, once direct eye contact was made,
she was hard to look away from. She was stunning to look at, and the power
of her gaze was incredibly magnetic. Hypnotic. The phrase 'Held in thrall'
came to mind. Because that's how I felt.
in lady-like deportment, the deeply suntanned, extremely attractive
blonde-haired woman walked over to us; her measured, elegant stride
regulating the stately-sounding slap ... slap ... slap ... slapping rhythm
of her thin-rubber soled pale-blue flip flops against the bottoms of her
she wore the same specially adapted concave bob hairstyle, and was dressed
in the same body-hugging pale-blue uniform as the 'Jailhouse Blues' prison
officers under her command, she was more mature than the average 'Blue' in
her early thirties, I guessed.
that she was standing right up close, and looking right into my eyes, I was
finding myself greatly affected by her. Finding myself unsettled, by her
aura of presence. Finding myself in awe, of her charisma. Finding myself
excited, by her attractiveness finding myself disturbed, by her
prisoner Lightwood!" she said in sardonic greeting. "I am Meredith Monroe,
Governor of Greystone Prison. I hear you are in need of a bit of
know what to say to that. So I didn't say anything.
to prison officer Bella Donna, Governor Monroe said in her rich-toned and
pleasantly modulated voice, "That is the case, isn't it, officer Bella
Donna? And that it is you yourself, as sponsor, who have brought charges of
gross impropriety against prisoner Lightwood, and petitioned my fast-tracked
authorisation to personally administer his rehabilitative therapeutic
treatment, on the Wheel of Chastisement?"
ma'am," affirmed prison officer Bella Donna succinctly.
"Um ... I
am in no way questioning your judgement, officer Bella Donna, but ... the
Wheel of Chastisement? You are certainly not pussyfooting about, are you? I
mean and, correct me if I'm wrong this is prisoner Lightwood's
first offence, isn't it? You don't think a Ball-Bust is a ... tad harsh?"
I'm as lenient-minded as the next prison officer, and a big believer in
second chances. But there are occasions when one has to take off the
is one of those occasions, officer Bella Donna?"
ma'am, I'm afraid it is. Prisoner Lightwood has an attitude problem. And in
my opinion, ma'am, it needs to be nipped in the bud. The sooner he is made
aware of the errors of his ways made aware of his improprieties, where
females are concerned the better off he will be in the long run. It is not
yet two hours, ma'am, since he was admitted to the prison by officers
Natalie and Melanie, and already he has committed not just one offence, but
a whole series of egregious infractions."
he now?" said the Governor, looking askance at me. "Could you please
elaborate for me, officer Bella Donna?"
Prisoner Lightwood has treated me with the utmost disrespect, signally
failing to recognise my authority as a prison officer. Despite my repeated
instructions, he has brazenly stared me in the face, instead of respectfully
staring down at my feet; failed to stand, in the presence of a prison
officer; and he has repeatedly spoken out of turn. In addition, he
has been flagrantly disobedient and noncompliant: he has refused to assume
the position, at my expressed order; refused to provide Foot Service, upon
my command. In summary: prisoner Lightwood has repeatedly disrespected,
disobeyed and defied me, ma'am. Again and again, he has said 'No' to me.
Never before, ma'am, have I come across such bare-faced impropriety in a
...?" said prison officer Billie Jo politely.
officer Billie Jo?"
can verify everything that officer Bella Donna has just said. In fact,
ma'am, when prisoner Chapman had assumed the position for me, and was
providing Foot Service, prisoner Lightwood spoke out of turn to me, too
actually, he even laid a hand on me. And then on top of all that, he
actually had the gall to try and take the moral high ground, taking issue
with the prison's practises not least, the manner of my treatment of his
... Thank you for your testimonies, officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo,"
said Governor Monroe.
...?" said prison officer Melanie politely.
officer Melanie? Do you have something to say?"
can vouch for what officer Bella Donna has just said, too, with regards to
prisoner Lightwood's having a serious attitude problem. In the Security
Checkpoint building I'd identified it straight off, since many of the
classic signs were immediately apparent. In fact, within minutes he'd
exhibited so many of them, that as a disciplinary measure I'd found it
necessary to slap his face."
...?" said prison officer Natalie, who had also just stepped forward.
officer Natalie? Have you something to add?"
am in full agreement with the sentiments of officer Melanie. Examples of
prisoner Lightwood's improprieties were manifold. In fact, I'd thought
officer Melanie had shown great lenience to prisoner Lightwood, in only
slapping his face once he'd been very fortunate, I thought, not to have
felt the cut of her cane for being so ill-mannered. On top of his
disrespectful behavior, he'd been very inattentive, too which I'd found
extremely annoying, ma'am, and several times I was on the very point of
taking my cane to him myself. During officer Melanie's prep-talk, when she'd
been explaining to him what would be in store for him here; apprising him as
to the ethos of Greystone Prison, throughout her discourse he'd had a silly,
smirking look on his face. In fact, that's what motivated me to suggest to
officer Melanie that we should bag 'firsts' pre-book prisoner Lightwood,
ma'am, for Prisoners' Canteen Service, tomorrow lunchtime. We'd soon wipe
that silly smirk off his face! Oh, just the thought of it ... I can hardly
wait, ma'am, to"
... And that, I take it, is why you and officer Melanie asked me to
temporarily relieve you of your receiving-officer's duties, and assign you
both as members of this afternoon's caning-party?"
ma'am," replied officer Natalie. "It is. I can overlook and even forgive one
or two rough edges, but prisoner Lightwood is an extremely uncouth
individual. And I can tell you, ma'am, I am more than looking forward to
playing my part here today, and caning some manners into him."
... Thank you for your very informative supplementary summations, officers
Natalie and Melanie. Very enlightening ... I think I've heard enough now, to
get a handle on prisoner Lightwood's number."
to me, Governor Monroe said, "Prisoner Lightwood. I have now been duly
satisfied as to the true extent of your guilt in this matter. Consequently,
I approve, and now duly endorse, the three extra months added on to your
original three-month tariff, as recommended by officer Bella Donna."
Ivy! I thought.
addition and also on the recommendation of officer Bella Donna, who as
sponsor will be the principle administrator of your correctional therapy
you will now undergo five, one-minute rotations on the Wheel of
My god! I
thought. I knew what that meant ... Once again, I recalled what Ross had
told me about it. About his own horrific, "Never again!" experience.
outrageous. I couldn't let this stand. I had to stop this thing in its
tracks, before it went any further. I had to say something. And say it now
before it was too late!
Governor seemed to me a fair-minded woman. She'd listened, just now, and
gave due consideration to what was put to her by her officers. Evaluated the
evidence. I believed she would listen to me, too, and hear me out hear
my side of the story.
But I had
to make the Governor understand make her see!
"Governor," I said, diffidently but urgently. "I don't mean to be
disrespectful or anything, but, please may I speak? Before this ... travesty
of justice goes any further, I need to tell you about" Slap! I got no
officer Natalie's thin-rubber soled flip flops had rapidly slap slap slap
slapped against the bottoms of her bare heels as she'd quickly and furiously
approached me, and then slapped my face every bit as hard as prison officer
Melanie had done earlier in the Security Checkpoint building and, just
like then, it stung like hell. "Shut up!" she yelled into my smarting face,
her cheeks colouring in anger. "You will show due propriety! The Governor is
speaking! You will remain silent, prisoner Lightwood!"
you, officer Natalie," said Governor Monroe. "But, actually ... though it is
somewhat irregular, I think I'll grant the prisoner permission to speak.
From what I've heard of prisoner Lightwood so far, I think I'd actually be
rather interested to hear what he has to say for himself."
replied prison officer Natalie, still giving me the evil eye.
to me, Governor Meredith Monroe said, "Very well, prisoner Lightwood. You
have my permission to speak. Say your piece. But make it quick we've
all got homes to go to afterwards, even if you haven't."
But now I
was all nervous. Flustered. I could hardly believe that the Governor was
letting me speak; actually letting me have my say. I had been right, I
thought, in my estimations of her fair-mindedness. Now, I had to seize with
both hands what would surely be my one and only chance. My whole future was
at stake here. I had to make the Governor aware of the wickedness in her
midst. I had to make Governor Monroe see! The first words out of my
mouth, I knew, would be of crucial importance.
"Governor, I must bring to your attention the fact that prison officers
Bella Donna and Billie Jo are corrupt. They are two no good"
your pardon!" exclaimed Governor Monroe, outraged.
"Governor, it's true! I assure you! They intend to retain me and my cellmate
indefinitely and mould us! Just for their own selfish purposes! Governor,
you can ask prisoner Chapman he'll tell you!"
assure me, do you? And I can ask prisoner Chapman, can I? Your fellow
criminal? Your accomplice? He will verify your claims, will he? Well, that
would be proof positive, wouldn't it?"
assemblage of prison officers all chuckled at the Governor's mordant wit ...
except, I couldn't help but notice, prison officers Bella Donna and Billie
Jo, whose faces glowered with outrage.
Governor saw prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo's outraged
expressions but misunderstood them. She interpreted their angry
expressions as outraged innocence not great umbrage.
Governor's sense of humour was then superseded by her own sense of outrage.
of God! You have been accused of having an attitude, prisoner Lightwood, but
this surely takes the Garibaldi. How dare you, prisoner Lightwood, stand
there in front of me, and impugn the reputations of two of my most valued
officers? How dare you, look me in the face, and cast your groundless
aspersions against two of Greystone Prison's finest rehabilitation
practitioners? How dare you, assassinate their characters? I will not stand
Governor! You've got to believe me! I'm telling the"
enough, prisoner Lightwood! I've heard quite enough from you enough of
your slanderous fabrications! And what's more, as a penalty for your
outrageous, and totally unfounded allegations against officers Bella Donna
and Billie Jo, I am now awarding you a further, six-month supplementary
tariff. It will run concurrently, at the end of your existing six-month
sentence so you can now expect to remain as our guest at Greystone Prison
for a full year. And now, prisoner Lightwood, if I hear just one more word
out of you, I shall take very great pleasure in doubling that!"
I held my
tongue I knew Governor Monroe meant it!
officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo were as corrupt as could be. But the
Governor wouldn't hear a word said against them not a word! She wouldn't
hear a word, of my "slanderous fabrications". She wasn't having any of it.
then, for letting me have my say. So much, for evaluating the evidence. So
much, for listening, and giving due consideration!
couple of hours ago, I was looking at a three-month sentence. But now, I was
going to be stuck in this damned hellhole for a full year! Because I'd
failed to convince the Governor as to what appalling fates were in store for
Ross and me, as prison officers Billie Jo and Bella Donna's ... moulded foot
Meredith Monroe now told me, "Now, prisoner Lightwood, let us return to the
business at hand ... The correctional therapy that you are about to undergo,
is a highly effective treatment successful, in ninety-nine per cent of
cases. The object of the Ball-Bust exercise, is to expunge from your mind
the capacity for irrational thought. By clearing your head of irrationality,
you will thus become clear-headed. You will then see reason. You will be
enabled to think straight think coherently and logically. The errors of
your ways, will become apparent to you.
prisoner Lightwood," the Governor continued, and now there was more than
just a hint of retributive relish in her voice. "I shall explain the
proceedings of the Ball-Bust to you: You will undergo five, one-minute
rotations Rounds on the Wheel of Chastisement. And, to ... kick-start,
as it were, each of the five Rounds, officer Bella Donna, as principle
administrator of your correctional treatment, will administer a therapeutic
kick, barefoot, to your fully exposed testicles."
Instinctively, I tried
to do a runner; tried to hightail it out of the gymnasium but I was still
handcuffed to prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo. But
before either of them could slap me down and rebuke me, the beyond beautiful
prison officer Victoria stepped forward to do it for them ... Slap! Slap!
Two very hard, stinging slaps, one to each side of my face. "You will remain
still, prisoner Lightwood!" she reprimanded me imperiously.
"Whereupon, prisoner Lightwood," the Governor went on, as if nothing had
happened, "I shall then set the Wheel of Chastisement in motion. Upon which,
at five-second intervals, by each in turn the twelve prison officers of the
caning-party including officer Bella Donna herself and the other five
officers who escorted you down here to the gymnasium will administer one
therapeutic stroke of the cane to your bare buttocks, as and when your fully
exposed bare bottom comes around to their respective caning positions."
thought. Therapy? Treatment? This was nothing but torture, in the name of
sixty-second mark," continued Governor Meredith Monroe, "upon the twelfth
prison officer having duly administered her therapeutic cane stroke, I shall
then stop the Wheel of Chastisement. This will be to allow you a moment or
two, to reflect upon the errors of your ways ... and to allow officer Bella
Donna the time she requires, to line up her next therapeutic kick to your
testicles. Whereupon, I shall restart the Wheel of Chastisement, for Round
Two. Upon which, during the next sixty seconds, at five-second intervals,
you will receive another twelve therapeutic cane strokes to your bare
bottom. And so on, and so on ... Are you following me, prisoner Lightwood?"
clenched my fists impotently and kept my mouth firmly shut.
acknowledge the Governor, I thought, would be to imply willing complicity in
my "therapeutic treatment". Would be tantamount, to actually condoning it.
the too lovely for words prison officer Victoria shouted in my face. "The
Governor just asked you a question, prisoner Lightwood! She wants to know if
you are following the details of your Ball-Bust!"
the Angel of Doom calls a spade a spade! I thought.
Governor," I said. "I'm following you. But, Governor, this is a travesty of
justice. Officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo, they are corrupt. They are no
good. They mean to mould"
promise you, prisoner Lightwood," the Governor interrupted, abruptly cutting
off any attempt at further protest quashing my last-minute appeal. "Just
like many prisoners who have gone before you, in approximately ten minutes
from now, when you have undergone your five Rounds on the Wheel of
Chastisement, you will have learned the lesson of your life: To always at
all times, whether here in prison, or free on the outside observe your
responsibilities to females. In short: to unfailingly and unhesitatingly
observe the protocols of propriety towards females, that today's society
Addressing my six escorts, the Governor said,
"I have already selected six of the twelve officers required for the
caning-party. I'd like the six of you to make up the other half of the
"Ma'am!" replied my six escorts eagerly.
"Officer Natalie informed me of your
requirement, ma'am," said prison officer Bella Donna.
"Good. And so now, officers ..." said
Governor Monroe, inclining her head meaningfully towards the Wheel of
said prison officers Bella Donna, Billie Jo, Victoria, Cassandra, Louise and
Cora simultaneously, who promptly began hustling me over to that terrible
turntable the Wheel of Chastisement.
prison officers Natalie and Melanie goaded me.
Leonard," admonished prison officer Natalie. "I knew you had an attitude.
But you've hardly been here five minutes, and already you are getting your
balls busted. This must be a record."
officer Melanie smiled gloatingly at me. Bending her flexible cane in
gleeful anticipation, she told me, "I'm not surprised to see you here but
I am very happy about it. As much as I'd like to, I'm not allowed to
kick your balls the pleasure of that entitlement on this occasion belongs
to officer Bella Donna. But, over the coming minutes, Lightwood, during each
of your five Rounds you'll be feeling this five times and I can hardly
wait." By way of a demonstration of what I could imminently expect, she
raised her wicked-looking cane and then brought it swiftly down in an
air-cutting, very audible Whoo! "Five times, Lightwood!"
Leonard," added prison officer Natalie. "Just like the Governor said: twelve
of us including officer Melanie and me will be caning you. And we each
get five strokes, right at your bare buttocks. And trust me: we'll both be
making the most of them we're really going to let you have it! And that'll
put us on nicely, until we have you for lunch tomorrow."
officer Melanie added, "If you are such a slow learner, Lightwood, that you
have to learn due propriety towards females the hard way so be it! But,
when you are feeling the cut of our canes on your bare buttocks, remember:
all twelve of us are acting in your best interests. We are doing this for
your own good. Acting with your mental welfare aforethought."
officer Victoria piped up, "Yes, prisoner Lightwood. This is going to hurt
us, a lot more than it is going to hurt you ha ha ha ha!"
thought, horrified ... Not only, was I going to be repeatedly kicked in the
balls, by prison officer Bella Donna, but I was also going to have my bare
backside caned by twelve really-up-for-it female prison officers. Up to a
total of ... sixty strokes!
moving!" snapped prison officer Billie Jo.
I was there. In the centre of the gymnasium ... standing in front of the
Wheel of Chastisement.
The prison officers had
positioned the Wheel of Chastisement inside a white-painted circle on the
gymnasium's hardwood floor. Directly above it, hanging horizontally was a
tubular metal bar, that was about three feet long and was suspended from the
ceiling on a retractable chain; the chain itself, fitted to a spindle so as
to allow the whole assemblage to revolve freely when the Wheel of
Chastisement was in operation.
around the Wheel of Chastisement, were the twelve caning positions. Numbers
from 1 to 12 were painted sequentially on the gymnasium's floor in white.
Caning Position No. 1 was situated on the far side of the device, directly
instruments of crude torture, the Wheel of Chastisement was of simple
of Chastisement consisted of a circular-shaped platform, that was raised
about a foot above the floor, and was of the approximate dimensions of a
family-sized dining-table. This was what the prisoner stood on. On the
underside of the circular-shaped platform, a drive shaft was set into its
centre. An electric motor powered it; its regulator set to turn the
standing-platform around at exactly one revolution per minute. Also on the
underside of the standing-platform, opposite each other at the outer edges,
were two metal fittings, from which cable-tie restraints were attached to
the ankles of the prisoner's widely-spread-apart legs to ensure that his
legs stayed widely spread apart.
Prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo now
pulled my dark grey, prisoner's uniform T-shirt up and over my head, and
pulled my uniform shorts right down to my ankles. "Step out of them!"
ordered prison officer Billie Jo sharply. "But leave your bootees on," she
I did as I was told.
Prison officer Bella Donna then said
authoritatively, "Now step onto the platform, prisoner Lightwood! And, with
your hands held behind your back, face front!"
I did as I was told ... and immediately I
felt my face getting hot. Glowing crimson, I knew, from acute embarrassment
as I was left standing like that for well over a minute, being 'inspected',
by Governor Meredith Monroe and her twenty-plus party of female prison
"Now, stand with your legs wide apart very
wide apart," prison officer Bella Donna further instructed. "Now raise your
hands above your head, and grab hold of that bar above you. Hold on to it."
did as I was told. To put up a struggle would be futile and furthermore,
not only would any act of noncompliance result in more corporal punishment
now, in the immediacy, but it would also incur yet another extension to my
prison sentence. Of this, I had absolutely no doubts. In fact, I was very
relieved that the Governor hadn't just now doubled my now 1-year sentence,
as she'd threatened, for my further pleading my innocence.
your legs wider apart, prisoner Lightwood!" ordered prison officer Billie
Jo. "So that your feet are positioned here, and here ... right at the edges
of the platform."
I did as
I was told.
was standing upon the Wheel of Chastisement ... just where prison officer
Bella Donna wanted me.
were placed so far apart; right up to the edges of the circular-shaped
platform, that my legs were stretched wide open almost to the point of groin
strain. My arms were fully raised and my hands were holding onto the
suspended tubular metal bar overhead. Except for my dark grey, soft fabric
prisoner's bootees I was naked.
And I was
facing front: facing Governor Meredith Monroe, and the assembled female
whom, with practise strokes of their canes, were eagerly readying themselves
to play their own active roles in my "therapeutic treatment". Play their own
active roles, in straightening me out. Play their own active roles, in
expunging irrational thought from my mind. Play their own active roles, in
getting me to think straight think coherently and logically.
at the prison officers' faces. Faces, expressive of their gleeful
anticipation. I was now seeing most of these prison officers for the first
time ... But I would be seeing more than enough of them, in future.
they were all sadistic members of some BDSM-style 20 to 30 club, they all
seemed to fall somewhere within that age group.
the looks of them, they couldn't wait to get started all of them! It was
in their body language. In their eyes. Up for it? What an understatement!
actually pleased, very glad relieved that the Governor was here to
that she was here to regulate them. Glad, that she was here to stop them
from getting too carried away. Relieved, that she was here to put a
restraint, on their ... appetites.
officer Bella Donna, speaking formally in the presence of the Governor,
said, "Officer Cassandra, while me and officer Billie Jo restrain his wrists
to the overhead bar, can you and officer Victoria both grab a cable-tie from
that box over there on the floor near the vaulting-horse, and cable-tie
prisoner Lightwood's ankles, all nice and tight?"
officers Cassandra and Victoria responded eagerly, snatching up the black
plastic cable-ties from a box full of the hateful things. And then they were
both crouched at the raised platform of the Wheel of Chastisement, at my
ankles ... and staring at my fully exposed genitals.
before had I felt so utterly humiliated, as prison officers Cassandra and
Victoria, smiling at each other in shared salacious amusement, took much
longer to secure my ankles than prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo
took to secure my wrists ... And, as prison officer Victoria's heart-throb
face was so close, that I could actually feel the exhalations of her warm
breath stirring my 'short-and-curly' hair.
my wrists and ankles I was restrained to the Wheel of Chastisement.
Cassandra and Victoria then stood up. Prison
officer Cassandra stepped back, into the throng of assembled prison
But prison officer
Victoria stepped forward, right up close to me. Whispering sweetly, she told
me, "So maybe I can't bust your balls today, prisoner Lightwood. So ...
another time. Yeah? But I'm still going to enjoy caning your bare bottom.
I'm going to really
enjoy it! Five cane strokes,
I've got! Five!"
Prison officers Bella
Donna and Billie Jo stepped down from the raised platform. Prison
officer Billie Jo stepped back, into the throng of assembled prison
prison officer Bella Donna stepped right in front of me. Her face was
implacable. Her stare was stony. Her ice-blue eyes were glinting. Glinting
with something I didn't like.
"Prisoner Lightwood," she said, loud enough for everyone present to hear.
"By the time I have finished with you, never again, will you disrespect me.
Never again, will you disobey me. Never again, will you defy me. Never
again, will you speak out of turn. Never again, will you say 'No' to me."
said the Governor. And the assembled prison officers murmured their own
sentiments of agreement and approval.
officer Bella Donna went on. "Because, prisoner Lightwood, I am telling you
now: To do so to say 'No' to me again will be an incontrovertible
indication to us that your therapeutic treatment has sadly failed. And so a
second, double-dose course of the treatment will then become necessary. In
other words, another Ball-Bust. Another, double-strength repetition of this
imminent therapy. Another, longer ride on the Wheel of Chastisement."
officer Bella Donna Poison Ivy! was really going to let me have it. And
she was really laying it on the line: post-Ball-Bust, I would at all times
in future bow to her authority, and obey her every command or else!
Corroborating my thoughts no, confirming my worst fears, prison officer
Bella Donna said, "Prisoner Lightwood. After your chastisement has been duly
administered, in front of everyone assembled here you will go to your knees
before me, and you will kiss my feet."
see, I thought.
will kiss my feet, and apologise for your improprieties. You will kiss my
feet, and beg my forgiveness for your repeated noncompliance. You will kiss
my feet, and you will promise your future profound respect, unhesitating
compliance, and unfailing obedience to me."
thought that was it; that her little speech was over. But it wasn't. Prison
officer Bella Donna had another, much more explosive bombshell but for my
officer Bella Donna leaned close, and whispered up to me. "So ... Grass me
and officer Billie Jo up to the Governor then, will you, prisoner Lightwood?
I shall make you pay for that, over the years. I'll never forget your
treachery. I can promise you that. And I've no doubt that officer Billie Jo
will soon be having a little chat about it with you, too. But, for now ...
prepare yourself for kick number five. The grand finale. There'll be an
extra little something. If you think the first four kicks, are bad ..."
officer Bella Donna then stepped back from me, and joined her assembled
was shocked to the core, as well as terrified.
myself for kick number five, the "grand finale"? And for prison officer
Billie Jo's "little chat". And, for trying to shine an exposing light upon
the darkness of her corruption, prison officer Bella Donna would make me
pay, "over the years"?
know which of them I was frightened of the most. Of the two of them, prison
officer Billie Jo came across to me as being the most vicious and violent,
the most vituperative and vindictive not that there was a lot in it! But
now, after my miserably unsuccessful and disastrous attempt at exposing the
depths of their wickedness, they would be equally vengeful, I was sure.
Governor Meredith Monroe
then said pleasantly, "Well, if that's the preliminaries all over and done
with ... Let the Ball-Bust begin!"
of excited anticipation arose from the assembled prison officers. For many
of them this was by no means a new experience. But the excitement of
participating in a Ball-Bust never abated. The novelty stayed fresh. The
pleasure never waned ... not for these females.
was now that the fear really hit me. That my feelings of dire dread really
started to get out of hand that I really started to panic.
terrified: this thing was really, actually about to happen ... the "ultimate
sanction". I may have gotten away with it in the past or been mercifully
spared it, by my aggrieved girlfriends. But now, I would be getting it in
remembered again, what my cellmate had told me about how bad the pain was,
when he'd been Ball-Busted by prison officer Billie Jo: that it was "beyond
was going to be even worse for me! I thought, with a massive measure of
came to administer kick number five her so-called "grand finale" because
I'd tried to expose her wicked designs to the Governor, prison officer Bella
Donna had promised to give me "an extra little something". What the hell did
that mean? "If you think the first four kicks, are bad ..." she'd said
Self-protectively I tried to close my legs; tried desperately to at least
move my upper thighs a bit closer together.
course, I couldn't. Prison officers Cassandra and Victoria had done their
cable-tying job very efficiently. Between them, they had fully exposed my
testicles; effectively rendered my balls unprotected. Totally vulnerable.
And they'd restrained my legs wide apart ensuring that, come what may,
that's the way they'd stay.
may, that's the way they'd stay: fully exposed, and totally vulnerable, to
prison officer Bella Donna's 'therapy-administering' feet.
then, officers of the caning-party," said the Governor. "Please take up your
said her cane-happy prison officers.
Responding eagerly, the twelve prison officers of the caning-party took up
their positions around the Wheel of Chastisement ... took up their
positions, around me.
officer Bella Donna took up her own position. She was standing right in
front of me, in Caning Position No. 6. She looked at me, and I looked at her
... I looked away first.
their own positions, on either side of prison officer Bella Donna in that
same front semi-circle, were, from my left to right: prison officers Billie
Jo (Caning Position No. 4), Victoria (Caning Position No. 5), Cassandra
(Caning Position No. 7), Louise (Caning Position No. 8), and Cora (Caning
Position No. 9).
seeing that all twelve of her caning-party officers were now in their
positions, as if she was about to get some Saturday-evening TV game show
underway, Governor Meredith Monroe announced brightly, "All right! Here we
go, officers! The first of five Rounds. Five separate minutes, in total.
And, the first minute, starting from ... Now!" she said loudly as she
pressed the Start button on the Wheel of Chastisement and prison officer
Bella Donna immediately kicked me in the balls.
of it was, that prison officer Bella Donna had actually managed to take me
by surprise. Her movements had been so lightening-quick and so effortlessly
fluid that, even though I'd been expecting it; even though I'd known it was
coming, I hadn't actually readied myself for it ... for all the good that
might have done.
I'd even realised what she was about, in a fraction of a second prison
officer Bella Donna had already expertly executed her all-in-one move.
slipped her right foot from her prison officer issue pale-blue, thin-rubber
soled flip flop, raised her foot behind her in a short backswing and
immediately let loose her kick, aiming right between my widely-spread-apart
In a blur
of speed almost too quick for the eye to track, prison officer Bella Donna's
bare right foot streaked unerringly forward and upward, and the tops of her
toes crashed into my balls causing such devastating agonies as I will never
be able to describe with proper justice.
But there was no time to
think about that. As, a split-second after prison officer Bella Donna had
delivered her devastating kick, the
Governor pushed the Start button on the Wheel of Chastisement, and with a
sudden jolt that terrible turntable began revolving in a clockwise rotation.
like some internal power switch had suddenly been thrown to the Off
position, automatically shutting down all of my body's nonessential
Instantly I found the whole of my body weight sagging down against my
cable-tied wrists, as my body obeyed my mind's urgent instructions to
prioritise every spare atom of energy in trying to cope with the sudden
catastrophically debilitating onset of excruciating pain.
Wheel of Chastisement slowly turned, and I turned with it, the avid faces of
the tight circle of cane-happy prison officers in front of me changed
there was the face of one such prison officer, in that moment, whose look of
sheer, malicious exultation I knew I would never forget: prison officer
I knew I
would never forget the look of cruel achievement on prison officer Bella
Donna's face, as she assessed the highly satisfactory results the
agonising aftermath of her first kick. "Defy me, will you, prisoner
Lightwood?" she said by way of Bon voyage as I moaned in agony, setting off
on the first of my five 360-degree journeys.
that was a beauty, Bel!" exclaimed prison officer Billie Jo in
congratulation. "Right in the goolies!"
yes! That was awesome!" squealed prison officer Victoria, equally
appreciative. "Just awesome!"
energy I could ill afford, I turned my head to look at the ravishing beauty
... and I saw her angelic face looking right back at me, beaming in sadistic
first of many loud and lingering cheers of approval went up, as all of the
assembled prison officers whether actively participating in administering
my so-called therapeutic treatment, or enjoying the spectacle as a member of
the non-participant audience unstintingly voiced their admiration of
prison officer Bella Donna's ball-kicking expertise.
Especially vocal, were the prison officers in prison officer Bella Donna's
own, front semi-circle: prison officers Billie Jo, Victoria, Cassandra,
Louise and Cora, who were best positioned to appreciate her finesse.
there was no time to dwell upon that either.
seconds after prison officer Bella Donna's first kick to my testicles, the
prison officer standing directly behind me, in Caning Position No. 1,
delivered her first cane stroke. Whoo! ... Crack!
again I used up energy I could not spare. Spent indisposable energy, in
raising my head, and emitting my agonised cry at the white-hot explosion of
pain as the prison officer's whippy cane struck my right buttock
ha ha!" I heard the familiar voice. "Great shot, Nat!" exclaimed prison
officer Melanie appreciatively. "Me next!" she enthused.
had been prison officer Natalie then, in Caning Position No. 1 letting me
have it! And prison officer Melanie, in Caning Position No. 2, was going to
let me have it next!
mind was sending my body that urgent directive again: Escape!
strained desperately at the black plastic cable-tie binds at my wrists and
ankles. But, soon realising the utter futility of my struggle, my panicked
efforts were very short-lived. Desperation quickly turned to despair, upon
recognising the zero per cent chance of escape, and accepting the
ineluctable fact that I could not possibly disembark from the Wheel of
of course, it was impossible. Prison officers Bella Donna, Billie Jo,
Cassandra and Victoria had cable-tied me up good ... I wasn't going
before I knew it, I was caned again.
seconds after prison officer Natalie's initial, getting-the-ball-rolling
cane stroke, came the very audible Whoo! and Crack! of the second: prison
first of prison officer Melanie's five allotted cane strokes struck my left
buttock, just at the point where the buttock meets the top of the thigh. The
pain was unbelievable. Unbelievable, as prison officer Melanie expertly
inflicted an anguish that I simply couldn't come to terms with.
of agonised anguishment I emitted had to be heard to be believed. It was
enough to cause the hair on the average person's neck to stand on end.
female prison officers of Greystone Prison are not average people.
responded to the evidences of my great distress, by laughing, chuckling,
tittering and giggling. By loudly cheering and admiringly applauding. By
whooping and whistling. By high-fiving. By leering, sneering and jeering. By
congratulating their cane-wielding prison officer colleagues, in recognition
and appreciation of their expertise in inflicting upon me such hideous
was just the start.
start, of my 'therapeutic treatment'.
officers Natalie and Melanie's first cane strokes, were just the first two
in this, the first round of twelve prison officers' cane strokes ... The
first, of the Wheel of Chastisement's five, one-minute rotations.
Wheel of Chastisement turned around, and I turned around with it, the next
ten prison officers of the caning-party, I knew, would also be lining up
their 'therapeutic' cane strokes ... and they would let me have it, too.
and Crack! Every five seconds.
registering the devastating impact of one cane stroke, upon my fully exposed
bare bottom ... and the next one was already homing in.
of prison officers Natalie and Melanie's cane strokes one to each buttock,
known I was only another five seconds away from receiving the next one,
administered by the prison officer awaiting my bare bottom's arrival, in
Caning Position No. 3 ... Where would this next cane stroke land?
no idea who she was. I didn't know yet, what her name was, or Whoo! ...
Bravo, Fiona! Well done!" cried prison officer Melanie in enthusiastic,
wholehearted congratulation while I screamed for all I was worth, upon
prison officer Fiona's first cane stroke striking dead-centre, hitting both
buttocks at once.
things were about to get even worse.
Wheel of Chastisement entered the second and third 90-degree quadrants of
its revolution, my bare bottom would thus be presented, I knew, to the
cane-wielding prison officers in prison officer Bella Donna's semicircle
my escort party: prison officers Billie Jo, Victoria, Bella Donna,
Cassandra, Louise and Cora.
bare bottom was duly presented to prison officer Billie Jo in Caning
Position No. 4, I heard her say, in malicious glee, "Now, he's for it
..." Whoo! ... Crack!
couldn't believe it couldn't bear it as the pain of prison officer
Billie Jo's first cane stroke easily eclipsed the three that had preceded
time I couldn't yell out; could barely make a sound, for such was the
incredible, white-hot intensity of my agony. Instead I emitted a high, thin
keening; the slight sound so high-pitched, that I doubted any of the prison
officers could hear it over the bedlam of their raucous cheering and
applauding, and of their many other vociferous sentiments of wholehearted
approval and appreciation of their colleague's caning skills. But then they
didn't need to hear it: with my mouth wide open almost to the point of jaw
dislocation, my near-silent scream was nonetheless quite evident to them.
BJ, that was epic!" gushed prison officer Victoria appreciatively, in Caning
Position No. 5. "Your red stripe is much redder than the other three red
stripes! Gosh! There really is an art to caning, isn't there?" she
officer Billie Jo spoke quickly, urgently. "You've not got long, Vicky you
can congratulate me later. If you want to hurt prisoner Lightwood bad, cane
him in exactly the same place I just did: aim for my red stripe!"
BJ ..." Whoo! ... Crack!
Mind-numbing, as the too-lovely-for-words prison officer Victoria's cane
stroke landed right on target: right on top of prison officer Billie Jo's
time, it was impossible not to give expression to my anguish. "Aaahhh
yayaya!" I wailed. "Aaahhh yayaya! Aaahhh yayaya!"
ha ha ha!" laughed prison officer Billie Jo. "That was beautiful, Vicky! I
said you was a natural, didn't I?"
glow of prison officer Billie Jo's praise, prison officer Victoria cooed,
"Mmmm ... that felt so, so good. I really, really hurt prisoner
Lightwood, didn't I, BJ?"
ha ha ha!" laughed prison officer Billie Jo in great merriment. "Yes, Vicky,
you did I think we can safely say that! And just think: there's still
another four Rounds to go!"
a second later I was in a whole new world of pain, as prison officer Bella
Donna, in Caning Position No. 6, administered her first 'therapeutic' cane
stroke to my bare bottom just as expertly as she'd administered her first
'therapeutic' kick to my fully exposed testicles. Using her first cane
stroke to overlap those of prison officers Billie Jo and Victoria, she
caused me to emit such a shriek as would surely have shattered the
gymnasium's windows had it had any.
ha ha!" laughed prison officer Billie Jo delightedly. "Bel, that was an
such fun!" exclaimed the beyond beautiful prison officer Victoria.
proximity of their voices, I could tell that prison officers Billie Jo,
Victoria and Bella Donna were now standing closely grouped together as they
stood closely grouped together and laughed as, three more times, at
five-second intervals, the other three members of my escort party, prison
officers Cassandra, Louise and Cora in Caning Positions 7, 8 and 9
respectively, demonstrated that they, too, were not exactly lacking in
prison officer Billie Jo's espoused idea of natural ability, as they all
used the first of their five allotted cane strokes in overlapping, too.
Wheel of Chastisement had rotated into the last quadrant of its 360-degree
revolution, not wanting to be outdone, the three remaining prison officers,
in Caning Positions 10, 11 and 12, really let me have it with their canes,
hearing each of the first of their five allotted cane strokes being lauded
and applauded by their cane-happy colleagues, I thus learned the identities
of these last three harbingers of utter wretchedness. The last three
merciless assailants were prison officers Teresa (Caning Position No. 10),
Susanne (No. 11), and Katie (No. 12).
long last (though it had only been sixty seconds!), I had completed the full
360-degree circuit for the first time ... And I was back face to face with
prison officer Bella Donna.
Wheel of Chastisement jolted to a stop.
woman of quality and refinement, the highly charismatic Governor Meredith
Monroe, walked right up to me and said, "So, prisoner Lightwood ... is your
mind beginning to clear of irrational thought? Are you beginning to see
reason? Are you beginning to see the errors of your ways yet? Are you
starting to think straight think coherently and logically?"
"Yes, Governor. I'm beginning to ... think
straight. Can we ... can we stop now, please?"
"Stop? Now? No, prisoner Lightwood, we can't
stop!" said the Governor. "Not yet. You've only gone one Round. This isn't
something you can do by halves. It's just like antibiotics: for the therapy
to work effectively, the full course of treatment must be administered. For
you to have a ninety-nine per cent chance of being cured of your
improprieties, where females are concerned, you must go the full five
Rounds. It's the only way. You've still got a lot of irrational thought to
be expunged from your mind. You've still got more reason, to see. You've
still got a long way to go, yet, before you'll be able to think straight
think coherently and logically."
"Okay then, officers.
Here we go, with Round Two," said Governor Meredith Monroe, her finger ready
on the Wheel of Chastisement's Start button. "Round Two, starting from ...
Now!" she announced loudly ... and prison officer Bella Donna kicked me in
the balls again.
again, such was my catastrophically debilitating agony upon prison officer
Bella Donna's left foot, this time, streaking unerringly forwards and
upwards between my widely-spread-apart legs, that for the second time I
found my whole body weight sagging helplessly down from my cable-tie wrist
out of turn to me, will you, prisoner Lightwood?" said prison officer
Bella Donna by way of a 'Have a good trip!' as I began my second 360-degree
journey aboard the Wheel of Chastisement.
split-second later I heard the Whoo! and felt the Crack! of prison officer
Natalie's second cane stroke, from Caning Position No. 1. Followed, five
seconds later, by the Whoo! and Crack! of prison officer Melanie's second
cane stroke ... and then the Whoo! and Crack! of prison officer Fiona's ...
Governor Meredith Monroe announced the start of Round 3, prison officer
Bella Donna, with another smooth as silk, poetry-in-motion delivery promptly
kicked me in the balls again.
noncompliant with me, will you, prisoner Lightwood?" she said by way
of a 'See you later!' as I set off on the Wheel of Chastisement on my third
end of Round Three, I was delirious with pain. Terrorised with fear.
from the three expertly executed kicks to my testicles from the chastising
bare feet of prison officer Bella Donna ... And from the thirty-six lustily
delivered cane strokes to my bare bottom: three cane strokes each, from the
twelve female prison officers of the caning-party.
from knowing I was still yet to receive another twenty-four cane strokes to
my already devastated bare buttocks another two cane strokes each, from
the twelve no-holding-back, utterly merciless female prison officers
bringing the final number of cane strokes to sixty ... And another two
'therapeutic' barefoot kicks right between my widely-spread-apart legs,
administered by prison officer Bella Donna ... Not forgetting the "little
something extra" she'd promised me, with her fifth and final kick to my
fully exposed testicles, for trying to expose her malevolent designs to the
was delirious with pain. Terrorised with fear.
I was starting to see the errors of my ways. Irrational thought was being
expunged from my mind. My head was becoming all nice and clear. I was
starting to see reason. I was starting to think straight think coherently
'therapeutic treatment' was starting to work.
Governor brightly announced the start of Round 4, prison officer Bella Donna
duly kicked me in the balls for the fourth time.
to assume the position for Foot Service for me, will you, prisoner
Lightwood?" she said by way of a 'Cheerio!' as I again sagged from my
cable-tie wrist restraints like a dead weight as I embarked upon my fourth
and penultimate round-trip aboard the Wheel of Chastisement.
then, at long, long last ... finally there was a glimpse of light, at the
end of the long, dark tunnel: Round 5.
officer Bella Donna stepped forward, and pitilessly looked up into my
tear-streaked, pain-ravaged face. Lowering her voice to a whisper so that
only I could hear her softly spoken words, she said, "You haven't forgotten,
have you, prisoner Lightwood, about the little something extra I promised
you for trying to grass me up to the Governor? My grand finale? It's coming
right up ..."
prison officer Bella Donna had resumed her place in Caning Position No. 6,
Governor Meredith Monroe said pleasantly, "All right then, officers.
Prisoner Lightwood's correctional therapy course is now eighty per cent
complete. So far, so good. By all appearances, he seems to be responding
well to treatment. There's just one final Round to go. Just one final spoon
of medicine, as it were."
finger on the Wheel of Chastisement's Start button, the Governor announced
brightly, "Here we go then, with Round Five. And let's make this a good one
to be extra sure of prisoner Lightwood's cure! Get ready, officers. One
last, one-minute Round. Starting, from ... Now!" she announced loudly and
prison officer Bella Donna kicked me in the balls for the fifth and final
told me that the pain he'd experienced when he'd been Ball-Busted by prison
officer Billie Jo, was "beyond imagining".
I knew exactly what he meant.
officer Bella Donna had told me, "If you think the first four, are bad ..."
I knew exactly what she meant!
officer Bella Donna had promised me that her fifth and final kick her
"grand finale" would have a "little something extra".
her right foot for the third time (she'd administered her second and fourth
kicks with her left foot), just like her first four kicks, the trajectory of
prison officer Bella Donna's fifth and final delivery was lightening-fast
where her fifth and final kick differed from her first four, was in the
"little something extra" double-contact, flick-kick delivery.
wracked with pain and terrorised with dread, I'd fearfully watched prison
officer Bella Donna make a show of slowly slipping her right, lightly
suntanned foot from its prison officer issue pale-blue, thin-rubber soled
flip flop. For tension-filled seconds prison officer Bella Donna looked at
me, her lips curling in a cruel smile as she kept me waiting, lingeringly
savouring the moment.
suddenly, in a blur of movement almost too quick for my eyes to track,
prison officer Bella Donna's right foot was lost to my sight as her fast and
fluid ball-kicking action once again somehow managed to catch me off guard,
her right foot hurtling unerringly forwards and upwards between my
widely-spread-apart legs on its collision course with my totally exposed and
optimally accessible ball sac ... Thunk! Thunk!
was beyond imagining.
imagining, as the tops of the toes of prison officer Bella Donna's right
foot further devastated my already sore and tender and now fast-swelling
balls, with her expertly executed one-two, double-connection delivery.
imagining, as I saw stars in the unbelievably agonising aftermath of prison
officer Bella Donna's expertly administered double flick-kick affliction.
imagining, as all of the other prison officers both caning-party prison
officers, playing active roles in the administration of my 'therapeutic
treatment', and the avidly watching spectators had applauded and cheered.
Had whooped and whistled. Had laughed, giggled, tittered and chuckled. Had
high-fived. Had leered, sneered and jeered. And had admiringly congratulated
prison officer Bella Donna on her superlative ball-kicking prowess.
imagining, as Governor Meredith Monroe pressed the Start button for Round 5
and the Wheel of Chastisement jolted into clockwise motion again, taking me
on my fifth and final one-minute 360-degree rotation, and prison officer
Bella Donna said, by way of a 'Have a nice day!', "Say 'No' to me, will you,
imagining, as, in the immediate aftermath of prison officer Bella Donna's
Ball-Bust "grand finale" her "little something extra" coup de grace came
the Whoo! and Crack! of the fifth and final cane stroke of prison officer
Natalie, in Caning Position No. 1. And then, five seconds later, the fifth
and final cane stroke of prison officer Melanie, in Caning Position No. 2.
And then, five seconds later ...
your leave, I would prefer not to dwell further upon those deeply disturbing
Round 5 recollections. Memories that still pain me now, at the time of my
memoir writings, fifty years later.
think that by now you will have got the general gist. That you will have
grasped the essential nature of those dreadful proceedings, down in the
prison officers' gymnasium.
object of the exercise, of the Ball-Bust ...
officers," said that lady of refinement and class, Governor Meredith Monroe.
"If I'm any judge, by the looks of prisoner Lightwood these proceedings have
been an unqualified success. Most satisfactory, indeed."
assembled prison officers' responsive murmurings clearly indicated that they
were all in total agreement with the Governor's post Ball-Bust assessment.
"Officers of the caning-party. I congratulate each and every one of you on
your admirable performances today. I could not have asked for more, than the
professionalism and expertise you have just demonstrated in acquitting your
important clinical duties. Such energy! Such enthusiasm! Such drive!
Splendid. Quite splendid. I am confident that the standard of cane-craft I
have just had the very great pleasure of witnessing is of a level unequaled
in any of our other institutes of correctional therapy. Usually, I would
hesitate to single out any particular officer for individual praise. But on
this occasion I think officer Bella Donna, the, er ... star of the show, as
it were, deserves a special mention. What a display! Such style! What
panache! Rarely have I witnessed such sublime expertise, such supreme skill
in this gymnasium, as her personalised performance has graced it with today.
Such a classy, elegant exhibition of ball-kicking bravura."
the assembled prison officers' sentiments were clearly in agreement with
those of the Governor.
that remains now," that lady of quality went on, "is for prisoner Lightwood
to be presented to officer Bella Donna. Officer Billie Jo, would you and the
other members of your escort party please take prisoner Lightwood down from
the Wheel of Chastisement, and present him to officer Bella Donna?"
ma'am," said prison officer Billie Jo. And together she and prison officers
Victoria, Cassandra, Louise and Cora approached me to do the Governor's
care, officer Billie Jo," advised the Governor. "Immediately post-therapy,
he's likely to be a little bit wobbly, still."
replied prison officer Billie Jo.
officers Cassandra and Cora crouched at my legs and quickly untied the
cable-ties at my ankles. Having done so, they stepped up onto the
circular-shaped standing-platform of the Wheel of Chastisement and,
crouching behind me and taking firm hold of my thighs they supported my
still helplessly sagging body while prison officers Billie Jo and Louise
untied my wrist restraints. The Governor made their task easier by
activating the retractable chain, lowering the overhead tubular metal bar to
which my wrists were cable-tied.
of her assisting in this operation, the too-lovely-for-words prison officer
Victoria stood on the standing-platform in front of me and circled her arms
around my back in a weight-supporting bear hug. Thus embraced, she stared at
my up-close, tear-streaked, pain-wracked face pain, of which she was in no
small measure responsible smiling contentedly at my abject wretchedness.
And, for the second time today, through the thin material of her prison
officer's uniform pale-blue blouse I felt her nipples hardening in sadistic
them the five prison officers managed to manoeuvre my "wobbly" body down
from the Wheel of Chastisement. And, still supporting my pain-engulfed,
still sagging and ready-to-collapse body, they duly presented me to the
patiently waiting prison officer Bella Donna.
held up before her, I looked into prison officer Bella Donna's implacable
was no pity, in the eyes of my conqueror. No compassion, in the eyes of my
nemesis. No mercy to be seen, in the windows of my mistress's soul.
I could see was malice. Malevolence. Wickedness. Cruelty ... And, despite
the unspeakable, agonised anguish she had already put me through, I could
see the promise of yet further painful vengeance, in the long-term.
knees, prisoner Lightwood!" ordered Governor Meredith Monroe. "Show due
propriety! You will respectfully lower your eyes, upon officer Bella Donna's
no time for foolish bravado. The time for that if there ever was a
time was long past.
I did as
I was told. I was in a world of pain, and I didn't need any more.
want any more splendidly-delivered, gold-medal-standard barefoot kicks to my
already tortured testicles.
want any more no-holding-back strokes of the cane to my already badly
bruised and weal-covered buttocks, administered with "energy" and
"enthusiasm" and "drive", by the cane-happy female prison officers of
I knew I
officer Bella Donna Poison Ivy! had been right. Those ice-blue eyes of
hers saw so much; she could read me like an open book.
been "stubborn". I had been "obdurate". I had shown "token
resistance", to try and "save a bit of face".
it was time to throw in the towel. I'd made my "pseudo macho bravado" point
... for all the good it had done me.
So I did
as Governor Meredith Monroe had told me: I knelt before prison officer Bella
crushed. Humiliated. Hurting.
To say I
was feeling sorry for myself doesn't come close to cutting it; doesn't come
close to describing my feelings of utter dejection and despair. How have
things come to this? I wondered miserably as I stared respectfully down at
prison officer Bella Donna's feet.
then, all fired up in temper prison officer Billie Jo grabbed handfuls of my
hair and pulled my head down to the floor at prison officer Bella Donna's
feet. "Get down and stay down!" she commanded angrily through gritted
teeth. Slipping her right foot from her thin-rubber soled flip flop, prison
officer Billie Jo then placed the sole of her bare, olive-complexioned foot
on the back of my neck and head and pressed down forcibly, ensuring I did
more than sufficient pressure to keep my head pinned between the sole of her
right foot and the gymnasium's unyielding hardwood floor, prison officer
Billie Jo gave me a small foretaste of the sort of subjugation that I could
expect from her over the coming years ... and the coming decades.
down!" she snarled with terrible, frightening hostility. "With your head on
the floor, under my foot!"
dare resist, as I felt the bottom of prison officer Billie Jo's bare heel
forcefully pushing down on the back of my neck, and the ball of her foot
firmly pressing down on the crown of my head. And I could even feel her
individual toes; could distinctly feel the undersides of her toes and her
five toe pads gripping the top of my head gripping, with surprising
strength. "So help me, prisoner Lightwood, I could ..."
the best of times, it didn't take much to get the irascible prison officer
Billie Jo mad. And it was now blatantly obvious that she was struggling to
bide her time with me. That she was struggling to hold herself in check
... That she just simply could not wait, to make me pay for trying to expose
her corrupt and nefarious "retaining" and "moulding" scheme to the Governor.
absolutely no doubt, that had the Governor not been present in the gymnasium
to keep the lid on her violent excesses, prison officer Billie Jo would have
started to make me pay right there, right then.
was equally certain, that none of the assembled prison officers would have
done a thing to stop her, as she proceeded to wipe the floor with me. No. On
the contrary: I had absolutely no doubt that they would all have applauded
and cheered. Whooped and whistled. Laughed, giggled, tittered and chuckled.
High-fived. Leered, sneered and jeered. And admiringly congratulated prison
officer Billie Jo on giving me such a good and well-deserved whupping.
seemed to take her a great effort of will, but prison officer Billie Jo
somehow finally managed to find a way to remove the sole of her subjugating
bare foot from the back of my neck and head.
officer Billie Jo then crouched down beside me and grabbed a handful of my
hair; entwining it around her fingers for a good, tight-fistful grip. She
then roughly yanked my head back, until I was looking up at prison officer
Bella Donna's face.
queen, beholding the lowliest of brought-to-book, treacherous serfs, prison
officer Bella Donna looked down on me.
want to look at her. I didn't want to look at the face of the woman who had
just so cruelly and comprehensively brought me to heel. But I couldn't look
attractive face would be very beautiful, I thought, if it wasn't so stern.
If it wasn't so implacable. So unforgiving. So vengeful. So wrathful.
her ice-blue eyes weren't so intimidating. So dominating. So daunting ... So
got some talking to do ..." prison officer Billie Jo told me, her voice
rasping into my ear with open belligerence, "... to officer Bella Donna."
suddenly realising that she was holding onto a week-dead rat, prison officer
Billie Jo then disgustedly threw my head from her hand, and stood up.
looking venomously down at me, prison officer Billie Jo finally slipped her
right foot back into its pale-blue, thin-rubber soled flip flop, working its
toe post into a snug fit between her big and second toes. She gave me one
final, malice-filled glare, and then rejoined her assembled prison officer
Meredith Monroe then said, "Officer Bella Donna. Please proceed: prisoner
Lightwood is all yours."
the Governor had realised what she was saying! How prophetic, were her
said prison officer Bella Donna.
prisoner Lightwood ... here is your choice."
prison officer Bella Donna's opening words, murmurs of interest and
anticipation arose from the assembled prison officers.
will now kiss my feet. You will kiss my feet, as you beg my forgiveness. You
will kiss my feet, as you make your abject and sincere apologies to me for
your many improprieties: Disrespecting me. Disobeying me. Defying me.
Failing to stand, in my presence. Repeatedly speaking out of turn. Saying
'No' to me ... In short: for failing to recognise my authority over you, as
a prison officer and so, by implication, disrespecting, disobeying,
defying, and saying 'No' to every other Greystone Prison officer, too."
Sentiments of wholehearted agreement, and more anticipatory murmurs from the
assembled prison officers.
will kiss my feet, prisoner Lightwood, in the understanding,
acknowledgement, and acceptance of your status. And you will kiss my feet,
as you make your promises to me: That from this day onward, you will be
profoundly respectful. Unhesitatingly compliant. Unfailingly obedient."
you've put it very well, officer Bella Donna," said Governor Meredith
Monroe. "In terms that even such a slow learner as prisoner Lightwood can
replied prison officer Bella Donna.
prison officer Bella Donna said, "So ... there you have it, prisoner
Lightwood. That is the first, of the two paths you can choose: You can now,
in the presence of the Governor and my prison officer colleagues, kneel
before me, and kiss my feet. Kneel before me, and kiss my feet, as you
apologise to me for your many improprieties. And kiss my feet, as you then
vow to me your future profound respect, unhesitating compliance, and
then, upon your having duly fulfilled all of these essential requirements, I
will return you to your cell. Where, upon my order, you will unhesitatingly
assume the position for Foot Service. Whereupon, you will then obediently
provide me with the attentions you'd earlier refused me.
one month from today, we can do this all over again another Ball-Bust.
You'll go for another ride on the Wheel of Chastisement.
next time, prisoner Lightwood, your therapeutic treatment dosage will be
doubled ... You'll undergo not five, but ten, one-minute Rounds. You'll
receive not five, but ten, barefoot kicks, administered by myself, to your
fully exposed testicles. And you'll receive not just another sixty, but one
hundred and twenty, cane strokes to your bare bottom, administered by prison
it's your choice, prisoner Lightwood ... Well? What's it to be?"
the unspeakable anguish that prison officer Bella Donna had already put me
through and that she would be only too happy to put me through again; and
a double-dose, at that there was only one viable option open to me.
already made my mind up, though, as early as Round 3.
already thrown in the towel. I was beat. All that remained, was to admit the
fact to prison officer Bella Donna.
Ball-Bust, I was absolutely determined, must be a one-off,
avoid it, at all costs. Do anything, to avoid it. Anything.
ever again, did I want to be put through such hell.
hell, as prison officer Bella Donna's barefoot kick 'Number 5' "grand
finale". Her coup de grace, "little something extra" double flick-kick
On my knees, I looked up to prison officer
Bella Donna's face ... The face, of my conqueror. My nemesis. And now, my
Now, my mind was expunged of irrational
thought. My head was all nice and clear. I had my thinking-cap on. At last,
I had seen the errors of my ways. I'd been a "slow learner", but now I was
seeing reason. Now, I
was thinking straight thinking coherently and logically.
"therapeutic treatment" had worked.
I lowered my gaze, looking downwards again
... looking respectfully downwards, at prison officer Bella Donna's
And I started apologising, to prison officer
* * *
I shall now relate to you the remainder
of that day's events.
The trials and tribulations of my first
day, as an inmate of HM Greystone Prison, were far from over ...
"Well, a most satisfying outcome indeed,"
said that lady of quality, refinement and class, Governor Meredith
Monroe, upon my being roughly hauled to my feet by prison officer Billie
Jo and the other prison officers who had escorted me down to the
"I think it is plain to see, officers,
that the Wheel of Chastisement has served its purpose, and has once
again proved to be a sure cure for prisoners' defiance. From the looks
of prisoner Lightwood, I think we can be confident that he is now
thinking straight thinking coherently and logically."
Prison officer Bella Donna replied,
"Sometimes, ma'am, caning alone is insufficient to bring prisoners to
heel. You can cane the living daylights out of some of them; make one
hell of a mess of their bare bottoms, and yet they will still resist,
and refuse to assume the position for Foot Service. Even when you then
administer some good, hard faceslaps, and verbally abuse them, too
which, on some prisoners, right, in-their-face verbal abuse can work
surprisingly well some prisoners will still continue to resist.
Usually, their obduracy turns out to be merely a pseudo macho bravado,
token resistance. A face-saving exercise. And a Ball-Bust usually sorts
these initially stubborn prisoners out. Or at least, it does in
ninety-nine per cent of cases."
"Yes ... the One-in-a-hundreds. The
exceptions who prove the rule, as it were. Hmph! I think we can safely
say though, officer Bella Donna, that prisoner Lightwood is certainly
not of that category of prisoner I don't think I've ever seen a
prisoner cry so much, at the taste of his medicine."
"Indeed, ma'am. In prisoner Lightwood's
case, I was never in doubt that the Ball-Bust therapeutic treatment was
wholly unnecessary a huge overdose, as it were. I'd been confident
that just a good caning, and a few of officer Billie Jo's good, hard
faceslaps, supplemented with a bit of her own inimitable brand of verbal
browbeating, would have been more than sufficient to bring him to heel. But
prisoner Lightwood said 'No' to me. And, well, ma'am, I wasn't having
it. I wanted to bring him to heel the hard way the hard way for him,
that is. But in his own best interests, of course. So that the lesson
would be well learned and so therefore well remembered. That way, he'd
be much better off in the long-run. Let's call it tough love: he
desperately needed to learn about propriety, where females are
concerned, and I so much wanted to be the one to teach him. In fact,
ma'am, I suppose I could go so far as to say I've decided to take him
under my wing, as it were."
dedication is highly commendable, officer Bella Donna. The prisoners
here are fortunate indeed, and ought to be very grateful that there are
officers such as yourself who take their best interests so much to
you, ma'am. But actually it is officer Billie Jo, who should take the
credit. Recognising prisoner Chapman as a slow learner who needed a bit
of extra help in staying on the straight and narrow, she decided to take
a personal interest in helping him along with his rehabilitation. And so
she took him under her own wing. I draw my inspiration from her
"Officer Bella Donna, I simply can't put into words just how proud it
makes me feel, in knowing that such fine and dedicated such
altruistic! officers as yourself and officer Billie Jo are on my
you, ma'am. For my part, I always very much enjoy administering
prisoners' correctional discipline. I find it highly gratifying,
enlightening them as to their many improprieties, where females are
concerned. It's what makes the job so wonderfully worthwhile. So
incredibly rewarding. So absolutely fulfilling. I simply could not
consider any other type of career."
perfectly obvious to me, officer Bella Donna, just how much you enjoy
your important work here. Just how proud you are, of your close
involvement with this august institution. Just how gratifying it is, to
you, when you achieve your desired results. That you derive tremendous
job-satisfaction from your laudable achievements, is plain to see. And
it heartens me no end to see it."
"Ma'am, as you yourself know perfectly well, there's nothing quite like
seeing a prisoner's moment of mental transition. That moment of
transformation, when you know for a certain fact that you have just
expunged irrational thought from his mind. That moment, when you know
indisputably that you have succeeded in clearing his head, and got him
to finally see reason. That thrillingly satisfying moment of
achievement, ma'am, such as just now, with prisoner Lightwood, when you
see the scales fall from his eyes, and you know you have succeeded
brilliantly in what you set out to do: getting him to think straight
think coherently and logically. That moment, when you know beyond doubt
that you have removed the word 'No' from his vocabulary, in so far as it
pertains to prison officers and, in doing so, thereby opening up the
pathway to ensuring his future respect and obedience to all females."
"Indeed, officer Bella Donna. Quite
right. It is indeed what makes the job so very interesting and
satisfying, isn't it? So incredibly gratifying. And my congratulations
again, on your own splendid performance! A truly consummate
demonstration of ball-kicking. It was a joy to watch an absolute
pleasure! I especially enjoyed kick number five! There was a little
something extra, wasn't there? A sort of double flick-kick? Talk about a
coup de grace! It really sorted prisoner Lightwood out, your little
"Thank you, ma'am."
"I bet the poor old One-in-a-hundreds see
plenty of you, don't they, officer Bella Donna?"
"Practise makes perfect, ma'am. And after
all, it would be foolish in the extreme not to exploit them to the full.
I know they really can't help themselves; that their unbreakable
resistance to assuming the position and providing Foot Service for us is
actually more to do with a phobic-like aversion than just willful
obduracy. But all the same, it would be a terrible waste of resources,
not to utilise to the maximum their limited usefulness to us."
"Oh, indeed! Do you know, officer Bella
Donna, I'm beginning to see management material in you! But prisoner
Lightwood certainly won't be saying 'No' to you any more, will
he? In fact, kneeling at your feet, he has just avowed his future
profound respect, unhesitating compliance, and unfailing obedience to
you and in a manner of such obvious sincerity that I have no doubt of
his fully intending to abide by his promises. And no wonder! He knows
exactly what to expect now, doesn't he, if he ever forgets his vows, and
doesn't keep his promises to you?"
"Yes, ma'am. I'm sure he won't forget,
though. He won't slip into complacency. Because I won't let him. I'll be
giving him plenty of little reminders, to make sure he doesn't. There
will always be room for improvement."
The Governor then looked at her
wristwatch and exclaimed, "Goodness, officer Bella Donna! How time
flies, when one is enjoying one's self! It's well after six o'clock.
Well, I'm going to the bar for a gin and tonic before I head off home
in fact, I think I'll have a couple, to celebrate the resounding success
of prisoner Lightwood's therapeutic treatment. I'll ring my husband to
come and pick me up in an hour. Any of you officers who should have
clocked off work at six, who don't have to drive, and who would now like
to join me in the bar the first drink is on me. You can look on it as
a bit of extra, staying-late bonus added on to your overtime pay. Bring
your clock-cards to me tomorrow, and I'll sign them for eight o'clock."
"Ma'am!" said about twenty prison
The prison officers then began talking
about ringing their husband or boyfriend on their mobile phones to let
them know they'd be home late, and that they would be leaving their cars
(Greystone Prison operated a
staggered-shift system, and ran a free, two-hourly, round-the-clock
Greystone Prison - Brighton Bus Station bus service for its staff: the
next two buses would depart from Greystone Prison at 20:15 and 22:15
and those two services would return, departing Brighton Bus Station at
21:30 and 23:30).
Prison officer Billie Jo said, "Ma'am,
could you ask Adele in the bar to put a couple of beers in an ice bucket
for me and officer Bella Donna? We'll be in for them once we've returned
prisoner Lightwood to his cell."
"Of course, BJ," said the Governor (Oh,
it's 'BJ' now, is it? I thought now that they were off-duty). "I'll
let her know you'll be about ten minutes."
"Um ... we might be a bit longer than
that, ma'am. I want to have a ... little chat with prisoner Lightwood."
"Ah ... I see. Of course, BJ. I
understand perfectly. Prisoner Lightwood sullied your good name. He
impugned your fine reputation. Cast vile aspersions. Made egregious,
groundless allegations. Assassinated your character. Of course, you must
have a ... little chat with prisoner Lightwood. I mean, where would we
all be, if we let these things go unchecked?"
"My thoughts exactly, ma'am," agreed
prison officer Billie Jo. "But we won't be long. And then we'll join you
and the others in the bar for a cold one."
The angelic, too-lovely-for-words prison
officer Victoria, piped up, "Ma'am, I don't drink. So if it's okay with
you, I'll help Bel and BJ escort prisoner Lightwood back to his cell
in case he doesn't want to go quietly."
"Ma'am," said prison officer Billie Jo,
admiration in her voice. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again:
Vicky, here? She's a natural!"
* * *
"Well go up in the lift," said prison
officer Bella Donna, slightly out of breath now as she and prison
officers Billie Jo and Victoria escorted me across the open expanse of
the Ground Floor.
They'd had a struggle on their hands in
getting me up the basement steps, and, much to prison officers Bella
Donna and Billie Jo's displeasure, a number of prison officers had had
to be summoned from their barstools to assist them.
While they'd waited for prison officer
Victoria to return with the extra helping hands, prison officers Bella
Donna and Billie Jo had expressed to me in no uncertain terms their
strongly-held sentiments as to why, from now on, my life wasn't going to
be worth living.
Now, handcuffed again to prison officers
Bella Donna and Billie Jo on either side of me, they cursed me bitterly
as they continued to support the cumbersome weight of my sagging,
walking-wounded body, while prison officer Victoria did her bit by
putting her hand inside the back of my shorts and hauling me upright by
the elasticated waistband.
As it happened, the lift was already at
the Ground Floor. Prison officer Billie Jo pressed the Call button, and
when the door opened she gave me a look that sent chills tingling
unpleasantly down my spine. "Right, you ... Get in there!"
When prison officers Bella Donna and
Victoria moved to follow us into the lift, prison officer Billie Jo
said, "Bel, could you and Vicky use the steps? I'd like a few moments on
my own ... with Grass-up, here."
"Heh heh heh ... No problem, BJ," said
prison officer Bella Donna, removing her handcuffs from my right wrist.
"Me and Vicky will take the stairs. We'll wait for you outside the lift
on Level One."
"Don't let anyone into the lift on Level
One, Bel. And I'll disable it from being called to another Level. I
won't be long. I just want a bit of privacy, while I have a ... little
chat with prisoner Lightwood."
With that, prison officer Billie Jo
closed the lift's door on prison officers Bella Donna and Victoria's
smiling, nodding faces.
When the lift's door had closed on us,
prison officer Billie Jo stood in front of me and flexed her whippy cane
... and then she stood her cane in the angle of the back left-hand
corner of the lift. "I won't be needing that," she told me. She then
removed her handcuffs from my left wrist, and tossed them over towards
her cane in the corner. The shiny metal cuffs hit the lift's bare metal
floor with a dull clang. "Or those," she said.
"Now ... It's just you and me
Grass-up!" said prison officer Billie Jo, as she put her hand down the
front of my shorts, going for my balls. "Time for our cosy little chat!"
She tried to grab hold of both testicles
together. But, due to prison officer Bella Donna kicking them five
times, while I'd been restrained to the Wheel of Chastisement, my balls
were now too swollen to fit into prison officer Billie Jo's small hand.
So she settled for firmly grabbing hold
of just one of them.
Immediately, wave upon wave of
pain-filled nausea flooded through me as prison officer Billie Jo
cruelly rekindled all of my terrible hurt, fanning the flames of agony
anew to a new, unspeakably devastating dimension of testicular torment.
I started sagging to the lift's bare
metal floor, no longer able to support myself as the modicum of residual
strength I'd had now drained out of me like water from a collender. "Oh
no, you don't Grass-up!" snarled prison officer Billie Jo. "I said:
stand up!" she snapped, as she gave me a 'little helping hand' to do
The pain was indescribable.
Indescribable, as prison officer Billie
Jo's 'little helping hand' took me straight to hell. She was literally
hauling me upright, by one tortured, semi-tenderised testicle.
"So ... grass me up to the Governor, will
you, prisoner Lightwood?" snarled prison officer Billie Jo through
gritted teeth, emphasising each of her words with a none too gentle
squeeze of her 'little helping hand'.
The pain was terrible.
Terrible, as I moaned and groaned in
wretched, abject misery.
"So ... (squeeze) I'm corrupt, am I?
(squeeze squeeze, squeeze squeeze). I'm no good, am I?" (squeeze squeeze
squeeze, squeeze squeeze).
The agony was unbearable. "Please, Miss
Billie Jo!" I cried beseechingly. "I'm sorry!"
With her remarkable capacity for
astonishingly accurate, true-to-life imitation, prison officer Billie Jo
sarcastically mimicked, "Please, (squeeze) Miss Billie Jo! (squeeze
squeeze squeeze). I'm sorry!" (squeeze squeeze).
The anguish was intolerable. "Oh! Please,
please, Miss Billie Jo! I beg you!" I wailed, in pure torment. "Please,
And prison officer Billie Jo cruelly
mimicked, "Oh! (squeeze). Please, please, Miss Billie Jo! (squeeze,
squeeze, squeeze squeeze squeeze). I beg you! (squeeze squeeze squeeze).
Please, please stop!" (squeeze, squeeze squeeze).
I was at the end of my tether I just
couldn't take any more. "Miss Billie Jo! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! And
it'll never happen again. I promise! Oh, please, Miss Billie Jo! Please!
I'll do anything, Miss Billie Jo! Anything!" I desperately pleaded and
And prison officer Billie Jo sadistically
mimicked, "Miss Billie Jo! (squeeze squeeze squeeze). I'm sorry!
(squeeze squeeze). I'm so sorry! (squeeze squeeze squeeze). And it'll
never happen again. (squeeze squeeze squeeze squeeze squeeze). I
promise! (squeeze squeeze). Oh, please, Miss Billie Jo! (squeeze,
squeeze, squeeze squeeze squeeze). Please! (squeeze). I'll do anything,
Miss Billie Jo! (squeeze squeeze squeeze, squeeze squeeze squeeze).
So why didn't I keep my mouth shut? I
asked myself. All I was doing, was playing straight into prison officer
Billie Jo's hands or rather, her 'little helping hand'.
When I didn't say anything further,
prison officer Billie Jo grunted disappointedly, and with obvious
reluctance she finally let go of my grossly swollen right testicle.
"Huh! Not an ounce of guts in you. I was expecting more from you. But
you are not much more of a challenge than your pathetic cellmate
snivelling little crybabies, the pair of you!"
As she watched me slumping slowly to the
lift's bare metal floor; my tear-streaked face contorted in agony; my
hands protectively cupping my ballooned and battered and badly-bruised
balls; and my body crumpling and folding like some bargain basement
store mannequin until finally I was laid out flat on my back, her face
wore a highly-gratified expression.
The lift's bare metal floor was
unpleasantly cold. I could feel the chill of it through the thin
material of my prisoner's dark-grey uniform T-shirt, which was scant
protection indeed. But what was far worse, were the raised ridges of the
floor's grated surface, designed to make the floor non-slip. The thin
metal edges dug painfully into my back, and played all sorts of merry
hell with my severely-caned bottom.
But I didn't care about that. I couldn't
have cared less, about that. Because it was over, at last. My
unspeakable testicle-torture ordeal was over. Oh, it was over. It was
finally over, thank ... Prison officer Billie Jo crouched down, and
snarled into my face, "You've got that right Grass-up! You
will, do anything!" she agreed meaningfully.
"You think this is over? You think we're
finished? You think I've done with you? Think again Grass-up!" said
prison officer Billie Jo as she stepped up onto my chest; the pressure
of her not insubstantial body weight causing the thin metal edges of the
lift's bare metal floor grating to gouge painfully into my shoulder
blades. I moaned and groaned at this new source of pain.
But then prison officer Billie Jo
relieved me of that discomfort, when she kicked off her thin-rubber
soled flip flops and stood full-weight on my face, barefoot.
"Because I've not!" she snapped, looking
down on me. "Do you think I'm letting you off so easy? Eh? After
everything you've done?"
No one had ever stood on my face before,
and I was now finding the pressure on my facial bones considerable.
I was immeasurably grateful that at least
prison officer Billie Jo's body weight was evenly distributed, with the
soles of her warm, slightly sticky bare feet occupying either side of my
face. And also that she had acquired a good, assured grip, a surety of
purchase which lessened somewhat the chance of her slip-sliding off my
face, and stretching my facial skin painfully as she did so.
But then prison officer Billie Jo pushed
the lift's button for Level 1.
Because prison officer Billie Jo was
standing full-weight on my face, the sudden jolting movement of the
lift's ascent caused some of the thin metal edges of the lift's bare
metal floor grating to dig agonisingly into the back of my head. The
pain was excruciating. But apart from telling me to be grateful I wasn't
lying on a bed of nails, she ignored my renewed moaning and groaning
noises of complaint and distress.
But the sudden jolting upwards movement
of the lift hadn't troubled prison officer Billie Jo a bit.
pushing the button for Level 1, she had adjusted her face-standing
stance. Standing with the sole of her right foot now over my lower-face:
her heel, painfully pressing into my lips; the ball of her foot,
agonisingly crushing my nostrils; her toes, curling around and firmly
gripping the bridge of my nose and with her left foot assuredly
planted along my forehead, with the pads of her toes firmly pressing
down just below my hairline, she was more surefooted than any mountain
To my intense relief, prison officer
Billie Jo then stepped off my face, and back onto my chest ... But my
relief didn't last for long.
Prison officer Billie Jo turned herself
around on my chest, so that I was looking at the backs of her legs ...
The backs of her shapely, well-toned, olive-complexioned legs.
Legs ... oh, lovely legs, such lovely
legs great legs ... of which I now had an almost unrestricted, almost
perfect up-skirt view.
And, being a leg man, I was far from
being averse to beholding and appreciating the fabulous sight.
But prison officer Billie Jo's great,
olive-complexioned legs weren't the only treasures I had an almost
perfect view of ...
Because, from my worm's-eye vantage
point, I could see right up prison officer Billie Jo's uniform pale-blue
short skirt ... all the way up, past her smooth as silk,
olive-complexioned thighs, to the exciting contours of her shapely
bottom ... to her uniform pale-blue panties.
Oh, god! I thought. Oh my god!
Despite myself despite my present and
continuing pain and suffering; despite my sadistic subjugation; despite
the devastations of my harrowing, abominable affliction despite
everything! I couldn't help but look.
Thinly, tantalisingly veiled, inside the
soft, pale-blue material of prison officer Billie Jo's uniform panties,
was the treasure of treasures ... the holy grail.
I couldn't help but look. I couldn't help
but stare. I couldn't help but ogle. What a sight!
And incredibly, despite this terrible
woman's appalling treatment of me; despite prison officer Billie Jo's
sadistic subjugation of me; despite suffering her heinously cruel
torment despite everything! I couldn't help ... but want.
And prison officer Billie Jo said,
"Prisoner Lightwood ... are you looking up my skirt?"
She knew. Oh, of course she knew ...
This was what Greystone Prison was all
about prison officers Natalie and Melanie had told me as much, back in
the Security Checkpoint building while admitting me into the prison.
And I knew that it was useless to lie.
Knew, in fact, that prison officer Billie Jo wanted me to lie! So
that she could have more fun with me, administering an extra dose of
corrective 'therapeutic treatment'.
"Well, prisoner Lightwood ...?"
The lift suddenly jolted to a stop. But
prison officer Billie Jo made no move to open the door.
what's more, I knew that prison officers Bella Donna and Victoria would
be standing sentinel outside, ensuring that no one else entered the lift
until prison officer Billie Jo was good and ready to come out.
Prison officer Billie Jo suddenly raised
her right foot, and with literally breathtaking force she crashed the
bottom of her bare heel down into my solar plexus. The air whooshed out
of me, and pain; awful, sickly pain, pulsed and radiated from my
grievously injured testicles, spreading out to every part of my body.
For the second time today, I was seeing bright and sparkly stars; seeing
dancing white lights, cavorting in front of my eyes.
"Prisoner Lightwood. I just asked you a
question. I've got a nice, cold beer waiting for me down in the bar, and
I don't appreciate you keeping me from it. But we won't be getting out
of this lift until I'm good and ready. Not until we've finished our
Somehow, I found the air to gasp, "Yes
... Miss Billie Jo. I ... I am."
Prison officer Billie Jo again turned
herself around on my chest, so that she was again looking down on me.
Raising her right foot behind her, this time, and with the top of her
foot this time, she delivered a second, even more devastating kick.
This time I had no breath left in me to
whoosh out. But the dancing white lights in front of my eyes were now
joined by lots of coloured ones, in a shiny commingled spangling of
brightly coloured dots. Long seconds passed, and I found I was unable to
resume breathing. I thought I was going to pass out, this time.
Not that I wouldn't have welcomed
temporary oblivion, right then; I'd have welcomed it with open arms.
Welcomed the relief, of oppression free, painless unconsciousness.
"You are what, prisoner Lightwood?
This time I didn't know where I found the
breath from. I only knew that I must answer; that I mustn't make prison
officer Billie Jo repeat herself again. "I I'm ... looking up ... your
skirt, Miss Billie Jo."
The undersides of her toes were curled
over my collar-bones; every one of her ten toe pads, gripping surely
into the soft and tender flesh on the other side of them nearest my
neck. Her firmly pressing toe pads were causing an awful, dull pain, to
add to all of the other pains.
Prison officer Billie Jo had a very
strong grip with her toes, I thought. Incredibly strong ... A suddenly
jolting lift? We could be on a ferry in the middle of the English
Channel in a force ten gale, I thought, and even the violent and wholly
unpredictable this-way-and-that-way yawing motions of the turbulently
pitching and tossing vessel wouldn't be sufficient to dislodge her from
her clavicle-clutching toe-grip.
Prison officer Billie Jo then stunned me
shocked me when she said, "Prisoner Lightwood. I know what you want
... You want my pussy. Don't you?"
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
Never in my life, had I been so startled.
I mustn't have heard right, I told myself. In fact, I feared that my
balls weren't my only faculty to have gotten damaged today.
"Oh, you needn't look so shocked,
prisoner Lightwood. You want my pussy, and I know you want it
really want it. It's as plain as day," prison officer Billie Jo told
"Unlike prisoner Chapman, who is a virgin
and furthermore, I shall ensure that your wimpy cellmate remains a
virgin, until the end of his miserable, useless days you are actually
quite ... experienced. Aren't you? You've been ... around. You've been
'around the block'. A woman knows, you see. I know. I can tell these
things. A woman like me, when she looks at a man like you ... can tell
I could barely believe my own ears.
But worst of all I believed her. I
believed that prison officer Billie Jo was speaking the truth. Believed,
that she actually could, tell ... many things about me.
"You are attractive to women, prisoner
Lightwood. Some men have it, and some men don't ... sex-appeal, I'm
talking about. I bet you are a bit of a lad sorry: past tense.
Past tense, because your sex-appeal is of no use to you now. Not any
more. Not in Greystone Prison.
"Yes, I imagine you were a right little
Lothario. I bet you were a regular Casanova, adept at sweeping women off
their feet, and into your arms ... and into bed.
"But, prisoner Chapman the prisoner who
said 'No' to me twice? I know that he hasn't yet become a man and now
he never will. He'll never achieve true manhood ... because I'll ensure
he never knows what he's missing.
"But you, prisoner Lightwood? You are
another matter. Another matter entirely. You are going to miss, a ...
When I didn't immediately reply to prison
officer Billie Jo's stunning statement; didn't respond, to her shocking
observations and chilling assertions, she raised her right foot
threateningly again and snapped, "Do not provoke me, prisoner Lightwood
I'll let you have the next one in the balls! I don't care how hurt you
are! I said: you want my pussy. Don't you?"
The saying: 'Hell hath no fury like a
woman scorned', suddenly sprang to mind. And I wondered how applicable
that was to me now: If I was to say: 'No, Miss Billie Jo. I don't want
But, not waiting for my response, prison
officer Billie Jo then produced her biggest shock.
Still standing on my chest and looking
down on me, prison officer Billie Jo hitched up her uniform pale-blue
short skirt, pulled her uniform pale-blue panties down to her ankles
and, with her clavicle-clutching toe-grip firmly securing her perch,
slowly she lowered 'herself' over my face ... Until I was looking up at
the pink lips of her vagina, positioned mere inches above my incredulous
"There! Pussy! Pussy, prisoner
Lightwood. My pussy. Look! It's what you want, isn't it? Have a
good look ... Look!"
I looked ... prison officer Billie Jo's
importunities were not needed. Her harshly spoken orders were redundant.
Her aggressively delivered commands, unnecessary. Her imperiously issued
instructions, surplus to requirement. For once, I had no problem with
obeying one of her commands.
I looked ... Prison officer Billie Jo's
womanhood was shaved. Her black, new hair was just starting to show, and
"You want it. You want it, don't you,
prisoner Lightwood? You want my pussy. Don't you ...? Answer me!"
I certainly wasn't about to scorn this
woman she was furious enough with me as it was. And besides, I had to
admit ... her pussy was an enthralling, pulse-quickening, and highly
arousing sight or, at least it would be, I thought, when I was back to
my normal self.
Despite everything this dreadful woman
had put me through and was still putting me though I was mesmerised,
totally enraptured, by prison officer Billie Jo's mere-inches-away
"Yes, Miss Billie Jo. I do. I ... want
"What, do you want, prisoner
Lightwood? Say it!"
"Miss Billie Jo, I ... I want your
And, so help me I did!
Prison officer Billie Jo was taking my
breath away but it wasn't just from the incessant pressure of her bare
feet compressing my chest, anymore. No, it wasn't ...
It was from taking in the
pulse-quickening sight, of prison officer Billie Jo's up-close, shaved
It was from breathing in the intoxicating
scent, exuding from her mere-inches-away pussy.
It was from inhaling the tantalising,
alluring, musky scent of her womanliness.
It was from inhaling the tantalising,
alluring, intoxicatingly musky scent of her womanliness ... and
recognising, from somewhere deep within my inner, male self, the
undeniable mating-call scent, of her sex.
After prison officer Bella Donna's
repeated ball-kicking, and now prison officer Billie Jo's repeated
ball-squeezing, stomach-stomping, and chest-and-face trampling not to
mention, having my bare buttocks caned a total of sixty times, by twelve
really-up-for-it female prison officers I was in no sort of shape to
do ... anything much.
Nonetheless, I found myself craving ...
Craving, to tongue prison officer Billie
Jo's 'lips'; her pink, luscious-looking lips.
Craving, to taste her 'love' juices;
juices, of which no two women's tasted the same.
Craving, to please her, and excite her;
because in so pleasing and exciting her I, too, would derive great
pleasure and excitement.
Craving, the magic button of her clitoris
... Craving, to stimulate. Craving, to enhance and heighten her pleasure
and excitement. Craving, to tease and titillate to torment deliciously
to the point of orgasmic ecstasy.
At which point in the foreplay, almost
inevitably, we would then
"Yes, prisoner Lightwood. I know very
well, that you want my pussy. I know perfectly well. Because you are a
real man and if I'm any judge, a man who's been around the block a
time or two. You want to shag me, don't you? Oh, don't look so shocked.
Let's call a spade a spade: I know you couldn't think of a ... sexual
union between us, as 'making love'. Not with me. But you would love to
shag me senseless, wouldn't you? You'd love to bonk me, wouldn't you?
You'd love to give me a good seeing to. You'd love to screw me ... And
that's too bad," said prison officer Billie Jo, with mock regret.
Abruptly, prison officer Billie Jo stood
up again on my chest; the soles of her bare feet momentarily compressing
my lungs once more as she levered herself upright, making breathing
And, turning herself around on my chest
again, so as to favour me with the view she now knew perfectly well that
I loved best, and that excited me most, I found that I was once again
staring admiringly at the backs of her lovely, sensational,
olive-complexioned legs ... the backs of her lovely, shapely,
well-toned, sexy legs ... And
again staring, right up her uniform pale-blue short skirt, at an
unrestricted view of her beautiful, peachy buttocks, and of her still
naked, magnificent, mesmerising womanhood.
the sheer glory, of it! The sheer, unequalled wonder, of it! The sheer
glory and wonder, of prison officer Billie Jo's shaved pussy!
officer Billie Jo turned herself around on my chest yet again, and
resumed her astonishingly strong clavicle-clutching toe-grip as she
looked down on me.
could still see right up her pale-blue short skirt. I still had an
unrestricted view, of prison officer Billie Jo's pussy. A perfect,
unhindered view, of her luscious, sumptuous womanhood. A perfect,
unimpeded view, of her
"It's too bad, prisoner Lightwood ..."
said prison officer Billie Jo, talking down to me, "... because, in
Greystone Prison guess what? There'll be no pussy for you! No! No
there won't! None at all! Not mine not anyones! No pussy at all!
"Because, when prison officers give you
frequent little reminders of exactly what you are missing, prisoner
Lightwood, you'll be able to look but never touch! See ...?" she said,
hitching her skirt a bit higher, and opening her thighs a little wider,
so that I could see even better, that which I would never be allowed to
"So, you are just going to have to ...
take things in hand. Aren't you? From now on, prisoner Lightwood, you
are going to be shagging your own hand. You are going to be having a
sexual union with your own hand. Aren't you ...?"
Despite everything, I couldn't stop
Couldn't stop staring. Couldn't stop
ogling ... Couldn't stop wanting.
Yes, prison officer Billie Jo was a prize
bitch a real broom-and-black-cat witch. But she had me right under her
spell ... She had more than one way, evidently, of grabbing a man by the
So help me ... but I never could resist,
Prison officer Billie Jo leaned forward
slightly and, in compensating for her more forward-tilted balance her
ten toe pads pressed even more painfully into the soft flesh between my
collar bones and neck as she spoke down to me.
"Do not make me lose patience with you,
prisoner Lightwood! I do not appreciate it, when a prisoner makes me
repeat myself. And you will do well to remember that. Because after your
little tell-tale performance in the gymnasium today I'm certainly not
going to be so lenient with you in future!"
"I'm sorry, Miss Billie Jo. I didn't
"Yes you did! And you are sorry, alright
sorry that the Governor didn't believe you! And I just asked you a
question! I said: Aren't you going to be making love to your own hand?
Do you seriously believe, that you are going to get out of Greystone
Prison in one year's time? Or that officer Bella Donna will ever
dispense with your ... loyal services? Dream on! Because you are going
to be stuck in this prison for a very, very long time. Officer Bella
Donna will see to that you can count on it! So ... there'll be no more
notches on your bedpost. Your days of galavanting, prisoner
Lightwood, are most definitely over. They are a thing of the past. So
you can forget all about hanky-panky. You won't be chasing bits of
skirt, anymore. There'll be no more slap-and-tickle, for you. No more
nookie. No more getting your leg over. No more dipping your wick. Got
it? No more shagging. No more having it off. No more screwing ... Am I
starting to get through to you, prisoner Lightwood? Are you getting the
message? In short: No more sex!"
How could any female much less, a woman
as breathtakingly beautiful as prison officer Billie Jo have such
cruelty in them? I wondered miserably, as I looked up to her
malice-filled face. Such callousness? Such unspeakable, diabolical
malevolence? Such innate wickedness?
To willfully no, with wicked, malicious
glee, prevent a man from performing his natural, inborn reproductive
functions; to deprive a man, of his preprogrammed, and most innate needs
"So, prisoner Lightwood. You are just
going to have to ... sort yourself out, aren't you, in the 'downstairs
department'? Take 'things in hand', like I said. Aren't you ...?
Masturbate. Jerk off. Play with yourself ... Wank."
My god! Prison officer Billie Jo was
enjoying herself she was loving this! She was on a goddamn powertrip
... and and she was getting-off on it! I knew she was. She was
actually getting-off on it! Getting-off,
on my wretched, abject misery!
was getting-off, on imposing my unspeakable predicament. On inflicting
it. On making it happen ... On decreeing it.
"And, when you are jerking off in your
miserable bunk, you'll be ... paying your devotions, to the female
prison officers who rule you. When you are wanking away, you'll be
paying your devotions ... to me. Yes, to me. And
to officer Bella Donna oh, especially to her ... You are hers, now."
hearing prison officer Billie Jo's doom-laden words, I reached a whole
new low. A whole new depression of spirit. A whole new spectrum, of
when you are masturbating, prisoner Lightwood, you'll sacrifice your
seed, too, to all of the other serious-totty prison officers who you
will not be able to help but desire. The prison officers who, as you
assume the position, and serve at their feet, you will lust after as
they provide you with your pussy-view stimulations. For such will be
your curse, as a real man: Soon, you will bitterly bemoan your
testosterone-fuelled, five-times-a-night staying-power virility. You
will curse your insatiable sex-drive.
can, though, if you find that things are getting too much for you, and
that you just can't cope with so much excitement, apply to the Governor
to have yourself irreversibly chemically castrated. Which is an option,
for prisoners. Notice, that I said 'chemically', and not 'surgically'
castrated? That's because we'd still want to use you for ball-kicking
Earlier, I had witnessed prison officer Billie Jo reduce my cellmate to
tears make him cry his eyes out. And now she'd succeeded in doing the
same thing to me. Only more so.
Yes, prisoner Lightwood, I see now that you are finally beginning to
truly understand and accept.
"Accept, that instead of sex; instead of having actual, proper, coital
sex, any more, every night, in your miserable bunk, you'll be taking
things in hand. You'll become a wanker. And, as you think of all of the
prison officers' honeypot pussies you've seen that day, as you served at
their feet mental images, that you will be helpless to prevent from
replaying over and over and over again in your head you'll pay them
due homage. You'll have no choice you'll have to, if you hope to get
any sleep. You'll pay your devotions your seminal sacrifices to all
of those prison officers ... Won't you, prisoner Lightwood? From now on,
you are going to be a wanker. Aren't you? If I'm any judge, you will
never choose the irreversible chemical castration option. No. Not you.
No matter how frustrated you get. You are going to be a wanker. Pulling
your pudding, every night. You are going to become a wanker. Aren't
My life as I knew it, I now realised, was
Prison officer Billie Jo's cruel,
heinous, unspeakably diabolical words were just ringing too true.
I knew, now, without a shadow of a doubt,
that I was going to be "moulded", and "retained" indefinitely, by prison
officer Bella Donna. That she would never, ever dispense with my "loyal
I wanted to weep ... And I did.
But first; before I made the serious
mistake of making prison officer Billie Jo repeat herself, I sobbed out,
answering truthfully, "Yes, Miss Billie Jo. I'll I'll be ... taking
things in hand. I'm I'm going to be a ... wanker."
"Yes, you are! Because, what you'll be
getting a daily diet of, prisoner Lightwood ..." prison officer Billie
Jo maliciously told me, standing with her back to me and gleefully
hovering the sole of her right, bare foot just inches above my
miserable, tear-streaked face, "... won't be pussy. No! Oh no! What
you'll be getting, from now on, is prison officers' feet!"
Prison officer Billie Jo turned herself
around on my chest again; the soles of her bare feet press, press,
pressing down on my lungs again and making my breathing ever more
laborious. Being trampled on was taking a lot out of me. She
turned herself around until she had come full circle, and had turned her
back on me again ... So that I was once again staring at the backs of
her lovely, to-die-for, olive-complexioned legs. Her well-toned,
shapely, sexy legs ... And looking right up her uniform pale-blue short
skirt, at her luscious, sumptuous
"Now Grass-up! Get that tell-tale mouth
of yours open and open wide!" snarled prison officer Billie Jo.
I felt my chest being forcefully
compressed; first my right side, and then my left as prison officer
Billie Jo stood full-weight single-footed while she looked over her
shoulders to see which of her soles was dirtiest ... She chose her left
foot; the foot that she hadn't gotten around to putting into my
assuming-the-position cellmate's toothless mouth earlier, as she'd used
his face as a footrest while enjoying her e-cigarette.
My situation was hopeless, I knew, as I
stared at the dirty sole of prison officer Billie Jo's left foot.
Prison officer Billie Jo's
olive-complexioned feet, I thought, were slightly smaller than average.
Dainty, or petite, I suppose I could describe them ... In proportion
with her hands, I thought, remembering how she'd tried but had been
unable to grab and hold onto both of my swollen testicles.
Wretchedly, I stared at the grubby sole
of prison officer Billie Jo's left foot, just mere inches from my face.
Particularly grimy was the ball of her foot, and her heel ... I knew
what was coming.
Or I thought I did.
"Dirty, eh, prisoner Lightwood? Yes, my
feet tend to get very dirty, working in Greystone Prison. And, do you
know how my feet get like this? How the soles of my feet get so dirty,
so grubby and grimy ...? Come on it's not rocket science! It's because
of all the walking I do. Patrolling the Levels all day, in my prison
officer's thin-rubber soled flip flops. That's how the soles of
my feet get so filthy dirty. And sweaty, too. So ... it's lucky there
are so many foot-cleaners available, all nice and locked-up for us
prison officers to take advantage of, isn't it, prisoner Lightwood ...?
Prisoner Lightwood! I said: isn't"
"Yes, Miss Billie Jo. It's ... lucky."
"Grass-up! I told you to get your
tell-tale mouth open wide that's not nearly wide enough! Open wider!"
too well, I remembered what Ross had said about what had happened to
him, when he'd refused to let prison officer Billie Jo put her foot in
his mouth ... She and prison officer Bella Donna called him 'Gummy' now
I didn't want to make prison officer
Billie Jo tell me again. If I made her repeat herself another time ...
I opened my mouth opened it wide ...
And prison officer Billie Jo put her foot in it.
This was a whole new low of humiliation.
The waterworks of self-pity were flowing anew now. And the taps were
turned on full.
Prison officer Billie Jo inserted the
toes of her left foot into my mouth, and then she forcibly jiggled her
foot from side to side. "Wider Grass-up!" she snarled down at me over
her left shoulder. "I'm accustomed to a more roomy mouth, these days
with no teeth in it."
Somehow, I managed to crank my jaws open
wider to afford prison officer Billie Jo's "filthy dirty" left foot more
generous accommodation upon which, she promptly plunged her foot in
deeper. And deeper ... until right in front of my freshly tearing-up
eyes, I was staring in abject dismay at the bottom of her dirty, grimy
bare heel, almost the only part of her workaday sweat-smudged sole that
wasn't stuffed into my mouth.
And then, when prison officer Billie Jo's
invading, probing toes touched the back of my throat, I found myself
struggling for air as my gagging reflex activated, completely cutting
off my air supply. Fighting for precious breath as she choked me and
above all, understanding that I must on no account bite her foot I
helplessly choked, gagged and convulsed until she thought my face had
turned blue enough.
But my relief was short-lived.
Prison officer Billie Jo then slid her
toes underneath my tongue, got a good, firm grip on it ... and started
hauling on it.
The pain was insane.
So much so, that it almost cancelled out
my revulsion of the terrible taste of prison officer Billie Jo's
day-long accumulation of workaday bottom-of-the-foot grime, that my
saliva was now starting to loosen and dissolve.
"So, Grass-up," said prison officer
Billie Jo, talking down to me over her left shoulder. "I'm a firm
believer in the punishment fitting the crime. So ... what do you think
is going to happen to you now? Eh ...? When that stupid cellmate of
yours threatened to bite my foot if I put it in his mouth, you know what
I'd had done to him, as a suitable punishment, don't you ...? Prisoner
Lightwood!" she snapped, hauling twice on my tongue, for emphasis. "I
said: don't you know what I had done to your idiot cellmate?"
"Yes, Miss Billie Jo! I know what you had
done to him. You set the dentist on him, Miss Billie Jo. He deserved
it!" I said desperately, prepared to say anything that might placate her
in the slightest that might stop her hauling on my tongue!
Being as prison officer Billie Jo had my
tongue firmly clutched in her toes, what I'd said had sounded totally
unintelligible, even to me. But somehow she actually understood the pure
gibberish I was saying to her.
"Okay, prisoner Lightwood. Here's where
you start putting two and two together ... If I'm a firm believer in the
punishment fitting the crime, and I had the dentist pull out all of
prisoner Chapman's teeth, for threatening to bite my foot ... what do
you suppose I'm about to do to you, as a suitable punishment? Right now?
(she again hauled twice on my tongue, for emphasis). For trying to grass
me up to the Governor?"
My revulsion and humiliation were
promptly superseded trivialised by a new, dreadful emotion: panic.
successfully put prison officer Billie Jo's two and two together. I knew
exactly, what prison officer Billie Jo was going to do to me right now,
as a "suitable punishment".
was going to pull my tongue out with her toes!
"No one tries to grass me up to the
Governor, prisoner Lightwood ... without paying for it (haul haul haul
haul). Without suffering (haul haul) ... long-term consequences." (haul
"Miss Billie Jo! Miss Billie Jo! No!
Please, no! Please, Miss Billie Jo! Please! Please! I'll do anything!" I
begged and pleaded, totally panic-stricken.
Once again, prison officer Billie Jo
seemed to have no difficulty in accurately translating my utter
nonsense, as her powerfully clutching toes rendered my tongue incapable
of performing anything even remotely akin to what could be termed
"Give me just one reason, prisoner
Lightwood. Give me just one reason, why I shouldn't pull your tell-tale,
grass-upping tongue right out of your head with my toes, right here,
right now? Eh? Well ...? What's the matter, prisoner Lightwood? Cat got
your tongue?" (haul haul haul haul).
"Please, Miss Billie Jo! Please! Please
"Shut up! I said: (haul haul) give me
just one (haul) reason, why I should let you keep your tongue (haul),
after you tried to grass me up to the Governor? (haul). Well ...?
(haul). Come on! (haul). Snitch! (haul). Tell-tale! (haul haul).
Grass-up!" (haul haul).
I was utterly terrorised.
With the meat of my tongue securely
encaptured in prison officer Billie Jo's insanely powerful toe-grip,
such was the measure of my acute pain and dire dread, that I felt
all that was left for it now was to vow my future obedience to her.
"Please, Miss Billie Jo! Please! I'm
sorry! It won't happen again! Ever! I'll do anything, Miss Billie
Once again, prison officer Billie Jo
somehow accurately translated into sense my panic-stricken stream of
seemingly utterly incomprehensible gibberish.
Prison officer Billie Jo released my
tongue from her vice-like toe-grip, and removed her dirty, grimy
left foot from my mouth. She then turned herself around on my chest,
once more, so that she was looking down on me.
I must have been a piteous sight ...
I was still in agony, from being
repeatedly ball-kicked, by prison officer Bella Donna, and from
being expertly and enthusiastically caned, by twelve
really-up-for-it female prison officers.
And I was in pain, from lying on the
lift's raised-ridged, bare metal grated floor and being choked,
trampled, stomped, kicked and ball-squeezed, by prison officer
I was thoroughly, utterly exhausted.
But prison officer Billie Jo showed me no pity. She was relentless,
in the wreaking of her wrathful vengeance. Both physical and
"So ... you are sorry, are you? It
won't happen ever again, will it? Ever ...? And you'll do anything,
will you? Anything ...?"
"Yes, Miss Billie Jo. I will. I I
promise ... Please, Miss Billie Jo, I can't lose my tongue on top
of everything else!"
"So ... you'll obediently assume the
position, immediately upon my ordering you to? You'll compliantly
provide me with Foot Service unhesitatingly? You'll willingly do
your absolute, utmost best to please me, each and every time you
serve at my feet?"
"Ye yes, Miss Billie Jo. I've ...
I've learned my lesson. It was wrong of me, to try and get you into
trouble with the Governor. And I'll keep my word. I swear I'll keep
my promises to you, Miss Billie Jo, if you'll let me ... keep my
Once again I felt each and every one
of prison officer Billie Jo's ten toe pads pressing down painfully
into the soft flesh between my collar bones and neck as she leaned
down towards my face and rasped, "It was wrong of you ...? Now, you
listen to me Grass-up! Do you think you are in any sort of a
position to bargain? For all of your apologies, and for all of your
grovelling, and for all of your promises, I'm not done with you
and I'll never be done with you. Your obedience? Your compliance? I
take your obedience and your compliance for granted, prisoner
Lightwood. And if you're not willing? Well all the better, because
that suits me just fine. And trust me: every day, you are going to
be listening out for the distinctive sound of my flip flops heading
your way, and guess what? Most days you'll hear them. Because
there's always going to be unfinished business between us ... Are
you reading me clearly, prisoner Lightwood?"
"Yes, Miss Billie Jo," I said
miserably. I was reading prison officer Billie Jo clearly. Very
should have known that prison officer Billie Jo wasn't the forgiving
kind. That she wasn't the sort to put our unfortunate little
contretemps behind us, and move on. That she wasn't the sort to let
bygones be bygones.
"Your one hundred per cent obedience
and compliance to me and to every other prison officer in
Greystone Prison is a given. It is at all times one hundred per
cent taken for granted ... Got that?"
"Yes, Miss Billie Jo."
"And there are only two reasons, why
I'm not pulling out your grass-up tongue with my toes, right here,
right now as much as I'd love to. One: Because your tongue is not
mine to pull out it's officer Bella Donna's. And two: Your tongue
is going to be put to very good use, every day, by the female prison
officers of Greystone Prison: cleaning and refreshing their feet.
So, prisoner Lightwood, you can consider yourself lucky. I
mean, what use would you be as a foot-cleaner, if you've got no
"I'd be no use, Miss Billie Jo."
"No use to us as a foot-cleaner, no. But then, your being tongueless
wouldn't be all bad news. Even then, you still wouldn't be totally
useless to us. Because you'd be sadly mistaken, prisoner Lightwood,
if you were to think that we would then have no further uses for
you. That we would promptly wash our hands of you, and relocate you
to another prison; a prison, perhaps, with a much less ... stringent
regime? No, prisoner Lightwood. No. I'm afraid it doesn't work like
that, here at Greystone Prison. Prisoners don't get to leave us,
quite so easily. Because, what we'd do then, prisoner Lightwood,
is that we'd make maximum use of your balls ... for ball-kicking
Whatever did I do, to deserve this hell? I wondered miserably.
"Because, tongueless, apart from serving prison officers in the Foot
Massage Room, that's one of the few things you'd still be any good
for ... You think I'm kidding, don't you, prisoner Lightwood? But
I'm not. Because that is what happens to prisoners who, for one
reason or another, prove to be too troublesome to us. Slow learners,
usually, who we grow tired of making allowances for. Prisoners, who
we finally run out of patience with. Prisoners, who keep slipping
back into their bad ways, and who we get too fed up of giving second
chances to, and so finally decide to treat them like the
"But sometimes, prisoner Lightwood, a prisoner can find himself in
that predicament, for ... other reasons.
"For instance, prison officers might convince the Governor, that a
... particular prisoner, is a lost cause. That this ... particular
prisoner, can't be rehabilitated. That the concepts instructed here
those of males, at all times showing due propriety, where females
are concerned are sadly beyond the ken, of the ... particular
god! I thought ... Was prison officer Billie Jo actually
"In fact, at the moment we have a small number of such prisoners
ball-boys, us prison officers call them who, down in the
gymnasium, regularly perform this useful functionality for us ...
How do think officer Bella Donna got to be so proficient a
ball-kicker? You heard what she said to the Governor, about
maximising the use of the One-in-a-hundred prisoners: 'Practise
makes perfect'. And officer Bella Donna is right, prisoner
Lightwood. She's right."
god! I thought.
"These ball-boy prisoners, of course, all end up totally and
irrevocably ruined. But they have no one to blame but themselves,
for their ruination. Because, one way or another, they have all
sealed their own, ruinous fates. We merely harvest our ball-kicking
practise resources, as and when such prisoners prove themselves
suitable to be picked.
"And so these ball-boy prisoners have absolutely no one to blame but
themselves, when, inevitably, as a result of their steady
accumulation of ball-kicking practice service sessions, their
essentially defunct balls eventually downsize to just little,
hardened kernels, inside their gradually drying up, leathery little
No! I didn't want to hear this. I didn't want to listen. I didn't
"As I'm sure you can readily imagine, prisoner Lightwood, these
lost-cause prisoners go through an awful lot of pain and suffering,
before they reach that point. Before they reach the stage, where
their balls have become nullified, and almost desensitised ...
almost, but not quite."
didn't want to hear any more of this it was too much information.
She'd made her damn point!
knew what to expect, if she or any other prison officer got fed
up with giving me "second chances". If they finally lost their
"patience" with me. If I proved myself to be a "slow learner". If I
relapsed back into my "bad ways".
"But yes, prisoner Lightwood: there does come a time, when
even their limited usefulness to us finally runs out ... and
at which point, they are, transferred to another
could hardly believe what prison officer Billie Jo was telling me.
This place was an even worse hellhole than I'd thought!
"And, speaking of prisoners' ... ruination. Although I'm sure you
have already picked up on it, I want to give you two words of
warning, about your own prospects: Officer Victoria. She wants to
ruin you. She's just itching, to ruin you. I don't know why, but she
has taken a definite fancy to you, prisoner Lightwood. She's got the
hots for you ... but not in a nice way."
Hell! I thought. Prison officer Victoria: The angel-faced vixen. The
sugar-sweet sadist ... The ball-hungry beauty. And prison officer
Billie Jo was right: I had picked up on it.
"As you will have deduced by now, prisoner Lightwood, there is a
skill an art, even to ball-kicking. Experts, such as officer
Bella Donna, and; though I do say so myself: myself, are able to
ball-kick a prisoner repeatedly, and on many occasions, over time,
without ruining him for good: You are hurting now, but officer Bella
Donna hasn't ruined you. Believe it or not, she took special care
You could have fooled me! I thought.
"Oh, you'll be very sore and extremely tender for a bit yet that's
to be expected. It is the intended aftermath, of your Ball-Bust
chastisement. A beneficial aid, to help keep you thinking straight
thinking coherently and logically."
Very thoughtful of you! I thought.
"So don't worry, you'll soon get back to normal. You'll be ...
taking things in hand, much sooner than you think."
Very considerate! I wailed inwardly.
"Officer Victoria, though ...? She's not interested, in ... letting
you live to fight another day. No. She just wants to ruin you.
Nullifying your nuts, prisoner Lightwood, that's what she's
interested in. You'll never get back to normal, if officer Victoria
has her way. Your little goolies will be history, if she
tries to persuade the Governor, that a ... particular prisoner, is
beyond rehabilitation. Know what I'm saying, prisoner Lightwood ...?
If officer Victoria has her way, you won't even be able to enjoy a
Hell! I thought. Just how bad a hellhole was this hellhole?
With each and every new diabolical revelation, it was like
descending another level.
"So ... why am I telling you all this? Well, it's certainly not out
of a consideration for your wellbeing you can take that
to the bank! For all I care, officer Victoria can kick you in
the balls nonstop from now until Doomsday. Me, I'd like to see
officer Victoria have her way with you. I'd fully support her
recommendation to the Governor that you become a ball-boy. No, I'm
not thinking of you Grass-up! I'm thinking of officer Bella Donna.
You belong to her, now. And she doesn't want a ruined foot slave.
Which is kind of ironic, don't you think, prisoner Lightwood ...?
Officer Bella Donna is both your conqueror and vanquisher, and your
protector and shield. But, if it wasn't for officer Bella Donna's
... patronage? You know what happen without it, don't you?"
remembered what prison officer Victoria had said earlier, about her
anticipated lack of satisfaction in kicking the One-in-a-hundred
prisoners in their nearly extinct testicles: "Where's the fun in
And prison officer Billie Jo's message to me was crystal clear: If I
wanted to retain the "patronage" of prison officer Bella Donna, I
was going to have to earn it. If I wanted to keep the only
protection, that could keep prison officer Victoria from busting my
balls for good, I was going to have to work on it. If I wanted to
keep prison officer Victoria from ... ruining me, I was going to
have to strive, continuously, to keep prison officer Bella Donna
Poison Ivy! sweet.
Instead of waiting for my reply, or pressing me for one, prison
officer Billie Jo reactivated the lift, and the door opened
Outside on Level 1, prison officers Bella Donna and Victoria were
Upon seeing prison officer Billie Jo standing barefoot on my chest,
they smiled. And, upon seeing the bruised and battered, utterly
defeated state I was in, they grinned from ear to ear.
There were also about a dozen other prison officers standing by,
curious as to the condition I'd be in after my "little chat" with
prison officer Billie Jo oh yes, by now word had got around: they
all knew that I'd tried to grass-up prison officers Bella Donna and
Billie Jo to the Governor. And, upon their seeing the bruised and
battered, utterly defeated state I was in, they all grinned from ear
to ear too.
"Oh, good!" said prison officer Billie Jo. "Many hands make light
work. And Bel and Vicky and me could use some help in getting this
deadweight deadbeat back to his cell. As you can see ... prisoner
Lightwood is not in the best of shape."
Prison officer Bella Donna's feet were quite different from prison
officer Billie Jo's feet, I now saw in my cell, as I assumed the
position for Foot Service.
Prison officer Bella Donna's feet were larger, more slender, her
arches deeper, her toes longer, and her heels more pronounced.
Her skin colouring was quite different, too: suntanned a
Scandinavian-like, healthy-looking pale gold, whereas prison officer
Billie Jo was naturally of a more Mediterranean, attractive
But the other, day-long accumulation of grim colouring on the soles
of prison officer Bella Donna's feet, was very much the same as was
on prison officer Billie Jo's. There was the same dirty, grimy,
workaday sweat-smudged grubbiness on prison officer Bella Donna's
soles, that prison officer Billie Jo and every other prison
officer who preferred to 'save up' for later, her bottom-of-the-foot
filth accumulated, resultant of spending a work shift patrolling
the Levels in their prison officer issue thin-rubber soled flip
Prison officer Victoria, standing by and watching me readying myself
to perform Foot Service, had a sulky, pouty look on her angelic,
too-lovely-for-words face ... Disappointed, because I hadn't said
'No' again to prison officer Bella Donna.
Also standing by and watching, was prison officer Billie Jo.
"Honestly, Bel," she said, after exhaling a cloud of vapour from her
first drag on her e-cigarette. "Now that you've decided to retain
prisoner Lightwood long-term, you really should consider having all
of his teeth removed. Just as I had done to his cellmate Gummy,
over there," she said, pointing over towards Ross, who was standing
by our bunks. "You'll be glad you did. You'll find it much more
comfortable, with the extra wiggle room and the convenient toe
my assuming-the-position position, I was at the same time both
utterly dominated and greatly excited by the immediate and intimate
presence of prison officer Bella Donna.
Standing with her back to me, prison officer Bella Donna was leaning
against the cell's bars. Right up close, the very shapely, lightly
tanned calves of her incredibly gorgeous legs were level with my
face and my leg-man's appreciation was fast running right off the
admiration scale ... But then, when I looked upwards, I could see
right up her uniform pale-blue short skirt, all the way up to a good
but not quite unrestricted view of her scanty, pale-blue prison
officer issue panties.
god! I thought. It was an awesome sight. So thrilling! So
remembered earlier, getting exciting little glimpses no, getting a
good eyeful, up her pale-blue short skirt as I'd followed her up the
flight of steel stairs to Level 1 which had actually been a
deliberate set-up; a ploy, by prison officers Bella Donna and Billie
Jo, to get me to walk exactly the right distance behind her, just so
I could do exactly that. But this up-skirt view was even better. A
Prison officer Bella Donna was a mega bitch, yes. A malicious,
malevolent, wicked tormentress. But that didn't seem to matter, in
this situation. I was being lured by a force that was irresistible,
quite beyond my control: The thought, of what was so thinly,
tantalisingly veiled by those scanty, flimsy, sexy panties prison
officer Bella Donna's pussy.
course, it was a deliberate, massive tease ... and of course there
was a deliberate, massive downside to it.
Which was of course, very much the point of Greystone Prison.
Greystone Prison: Where prisoners are still, to this day (at the
time of my memoir writings, in the year 2070), taught about
propriety, where females were concerned.
Where, on a daily basis, prisoners have the concept of propriety
rigorously and relentlessly drilled into them, as they are made to
serve at the feet of their female prison officer guards sometimes,
in the assuming-the-position position, where they are allowed, and
encouraged no, tempted, and incited, to look right up the prison
officers' uniform short, pale-blue skirts.
is, in essence, a brainwashing programme. Designed to condition male
prisoners, upon their release from prison, to be subservient to
females. Conditioned, not just to be polite and well-mannered,
towards females. And not just to be obedient. But conditioned also
to be respectful, reverent worshipful. Because respect, reverence,
and woman-worship are the cornerstone guarantors of male
Greystone Prison, if a prisoner finds that the sexual frustrations
of such relentless wicked teasing by the cruel and sadistic "serious
totty" female prison officers are getting too much for him, he can,
by applying to the Governor, decide to plump for the decidedly
extreme option of irreversible chemical castration.
Otherwise, there is only one course of action available to a
prisoner, that will alleviate the maddening, all-consuming symptoms
of this deliberately inflicted massive downside. And it is a
self-administered remedy. A do-it-yourself, "taking things in hand"
cure. Except of course, that it isn't a cure, but only a short-lived
anodyne, that gives only temporary relief ... as it were.
And now, though I hadn't before much used the word myself, I just
couldn't get the word 'pussy' out of my mind. Not since prison
officer Billie Jo had put it there no, had implanted it there. When
to my absolute amazement and incredible excitement she'd shown
me hers. Her own, shaved pussy.
Despite myself despite everything! I so wanted to see prison
officer Bella Donna's pussy. I needed, to see it.
Would it be shaved, like prison officer Billie Jo's? I wondered. Or
would I see prison officer Bella Donna's fine, platinum-blonde pubic
hair? Well, I was obviously going to have to wait for another day.
Wait for another time, to see her
"Open your mouth, prisoner Lightwood and open it wide!" ordered
prison officer Bella Donna authoritatively, looking down on me over
her right shoulder.
Upon my obediently and unhesitatingly opening my mouth wide, at her
command, prison officer Bella Donna promptly put her foot in it.
She slipped her right foot from her prison officer issue pale-blue,
thin-rubber soled flip flop, and raised her foot behind her until
her filthy dirty sole was level with my horrified and dismayed
face. No! Please, no, I wailed inwardly, as she hovered her foot
right there, to let me see just exactly what I had coming to me.
But I knew that my silent pleas had fallen on deaf ears, as it were,
when prison officer Bella Donna then passed her dirty, grimy,
sweat-smudged sole between the bars in front of my face, and
inserted her toes into my compliantly waiting, widely opened mouth.
Instantly my tongue began wettening with saliva, involuntarily
responding to the vile taste. A natural and automatic reaction, I
supposed, as the sharp tang of the sour and salty flavour woke up my
taste buds in fact, very much the same thing had happened earlier,
in the lift, when prison officer Billie Jo had vengefully stuffed
her dirty, sweaty, slightly chubbier toes into my mouth to haul on
But now, in raising her right foot behind her, the back of prison
officer Bella Donna's thigh had slightly raised and opened out the
hem of her short skirt. And so now I had an even better view in
fact an unimpeded view of her scant and flimsy pale-blue panties,
as I gazed longingly and lustfully right up her uniform pale-blue
was just a great pity that her longish, abusively intrusive toes
were busily exploring the oral cave of her newly conquered
territory, and driving me nuts: maddeningly toying with my tongue,
and annoyingly playing over my teeth and gums. Spoiling the
But then to make matters even worse, prison officer Bella Donna
pushed her dirty, vile-tasting foot further into my mouth, so that
it was filling up nearly all the space. So that the bottom of her
foot was pressing hard into my nose, which hurt, and I was staring
right at the bottom of her grubby, grimy heel, mere inches from my
eyes ... Nonetheless, I was still able to see past her dirty,
sweat-smudged heel, and look right up her pale-blue short skirt, at
the irresistibly alluring sight of her thinly veiled treasure.
One day, I thought, she won't be wearing her scanty, flimsy
pale-blue panties. She'll let me see. She'll let me see her womanly
treasure. Prison officer Bella Donna would actually let me see, her
"Enjoying the view, prisoner Lightwood?" said prison officer Bella
Donna, looking scornfully down on me over her right shoulder. Prison
officers Billie Jo and Victoria chuckled and tittered in amusement.
"Suck my toes!" ordered prison officer Bella Donna. "If you are
going to jack off to me, tonight, you are going to have to earn your
little wank." Prison officers Billie Jo and Victoria chuckled and
tittered some more. In fact, prison officer Victoria started
"Suck my toes individually," instructed prison officer Bella Donna.
"Start with my big toe. And, as you go from toe to toe, lick
thoroughly in between them. And I mean thoroughly, prisoner
Lightwood. I want to feel that foot-cleaning tongue of yours hard at
work. Doing its job. And doing it efficiently. You don't get to wank
off to me, in your miserable bunk at night, without earning the
"Ha ha ha ha!" laughed prison officer Victoria delightedly. "This is
such fun!" she squealed ecstatically.
"Use your tongue to soak, wash, and rinse," instructed prison
officer Bella Donna. "Soak ... Wash ... Rinse. That shall be your
foot-cleaning mental mantra. You will swallow, and keep on
swallowing your dirtied saliva, so that your mouth is continually
replenished with clean saliva just like an automatic washing
machine. Now, prisoner Lightwood, begin. Commence tongue-cleaning my
dirty feet. Starting with my toes, in exactly the method I've just
responded immediately, obediently complying with prison officer
Bella Donna's specified Foot Service instructions.
knew better now, than to say 'No' to prison officer Bella Donna or
to any other prison officer.
mind had been expunged of all irrational thought. My head was all
nice and clear now. I had my thinking-cap on. I was seeing reason. I
was thinking straight, now thinking coherently and logically.
The "therapeutic treatment" had worked.
"Heh heh heh," chuckled prison officer Billie Jo. "He very nearly
had no tongue, Bel. He doesn't realise just how close he came,
during our little chat in the lift, to me pulling it right out of
his head with my toes. I made him cry so much, I thought I was going
to have to send him back into the lift later with a mop and bucket.
I don't know my own strength sometimes ha ha! At one point, I
almost lost my balance, and I nearly plucked his tongue right out of
his head you should have heard him squeal! Heh heh heh ... what a
pair they'd make, Bel: prisoner Lightwood, with no tongue, and
Gummy, over there, with no teeth Gummy and Dummy! Ha ha ha ha!"
Prison officer Victoria piped up, staring belligerently at me,
"Ball-boy material, I'd say. Both of them ... but especially
was still sucking on prison officer Bella Donna's big toe; my
tongue, firmly playing over and over the yielding flesh of her toe
pad, when she said, in response to prison officer Billie Jo's
suggestion of a moment ago, "Hmm ... I think I'll let him keep his
teeth, BJ ... for now. I'll just let the threat of the dentist
dangle over him, as an ever-present warning. To help keep his mind
firmly focused, on the utmost importance of providing me with the
high-quality service that I shall expect from him, from now on."
Prison officer Victoria opined, staring balefully at me, "I think an
extra Ball-Bust, every now and then, would help to keep prisoner
Lightwood's mind focused."
moved my tongue between prison officer Bella Donna's big and second
toes. I then felt her toes constrict, firmly squeezing my tongue,
and I was forced to labour the overworked muscle as I slid it up and
down the sides of her big and second toes. I gave it a few more
seconds, and then I probed my tongue deep down into the cleavage
between her big and second toes, working it thoroughly with the tip
of my tongue ... and felt something loosen.
Prison officer Victoria said, looking sweetly at me, this time, "I'd
be happy to do it perform prisoner Lightwood's extra Ball-Busts.
More than happy!"
Trying to not allow myself to think about what I was actually doing,
I plunged on literally further loosening and prying free with my
tongue prison officer Bella Donna's rubbery-textured, slightly slimy
lump of in-between-the-toes gunge ... and swallowed. Swallowed, the
was horrible, but I swallowed. It was disgusting, but I swallowed.
It was revolting, but I swallowed.
And I kept on, swallowing.
kept on, using my tongue to "soak, wash, and rinse".
kept on, swallowing my "dirtied saliva". So that my mouth was
"continually replenished with clean saliva just like an automatic
kept on, swallowing my disgusting, revolting, dirty filthy drink.
foul mixture of my own saliva, sole-of-the-foot grime, and
in-between-the-toes gunk, the thick and slightly gritty liquid was
like some noxious, horrible, dirty-feet flavoured smoothie.
thought my stomach would complain, protest revolt. How could it
But no. There was no reaction at all. No bellyaching ... as it were.
No tummy tantrum. Not so much as a token grumble of gastric
Surprisingly, it seemed that my stomach was not going to reject the
vile and disgusting liquid refreshment. Incredibly, my body seemed
to be having no problems at all, with ingesting the grim and gross
ingredients of the sour 'sustenance'. No problems at all, with
devouring the empty-calorie, vitaminless, nutritionless food and
"Shall we go and get that cold beer now, Bel?" said prison officer
Billie Jo. "I could use one now watching prisoners performing Foot
Service must be thirsty work! And it certainly looks like you've
brought prisoner Lightwood to heel. I don't think the little toerag
will be giving you any trouble from now on. He won't be saying 'No'
to you again. Just like prisoner Chapman, he seems to be thinking
straight, now thinking coherently and logically."
"Yeah, BJ. Let's go down to the bar and grab that beer. I could
really use a nice, cold, refreshing beer right now, after a long day
of patrolling the Levels. After a long day of walking around in
these thin-rubber soled flip flops, keeping our scumbag prisoners in
line. And not to mention, getting stubborn idiot, face-saving
slow-learner prisoners like prisoner Lightwood, down here ..."
prison officer Bella Donna looked down on me over her right shoulder
again "... to start thinking straight."
"Oh, I know just exactly what you mean, Bel, about wearing these
thin-rubber soled flip flops all day. They are amazingly
comfortable, but they don't half make my feet sweaty and I can't
believe how dirty the soles of my feet always get. Especially
lately! On our feet all day, working these long, twelve-hour shifts,
covering for so many prison officers who are off on their holidays.
Ha ha! Lucky prisoners what a treat! An extra four hours' worth of
dirt, sweat and grime to lick up from the soles of our lovely,
prison officers' feet!"
"Yes, BJ a treat that prisoner Lightwood is enjoying, right at
this very moment!" said prison officer Bella Donna laughingly, as
she squeezed my tongue with her toes.
"Lucky for you," prison officer Bella Donna told me, looking down on
me over her right shoulder again, "down in the prison officers' bar
there's a nice, cold, refreshing beer with my name on it. It's been
sitting in the ice bucket for about twenty minutes now. And there's
one for officer Billie Jo, too. So that means we're done here ...
She then removed her right foot from my mouth, and turned around to
face me. But as she'd returned her foot to its pale-blue,
thin-rubber soled flip flop, I caught a quick glance at the
undersides of her now clean toes. Caught a brief glance, at the
results of my enforced foot-cleaning endeavours, in prison officer
Bella Donna's behalf.
Glistening with my saliva, her toes' honeyed, lightly-tanned pale
gold colouring were a gleaming testament to the efficiency and
efficacy of my foot-cleaning tongue. A gleaming testament, to the
"high quality" of my Foot Service.
Prison officer Bella Donna's freshly cleaned, wetly sparkling toes,
I'd briefly seen, to my horror, were now a stark contrast to the
rest of her still uncleaned, grubby, grimy, workaday sweat-smudged
The remainder of the day's accumulation of grime, I'd momentarily
seen, to my disgust, was now horribly enhanced; the dark, dirty
filth standing out all the more now, on the bottom of her heel, and
the ball of her foot.
Filled with horrified disgust with revulsion I felt sick to my
stomach, at the thought of what I had just swallowed. Distraught, at
the knowledge of what I had just ingested.
"I'll be returning to your cell tomorrow afternoon, prisoner
Lightwood. After officers Natalie and Melanie have had you for
lunch," prison officer Bella Donna told me.
"When you return here from Prisoners' Canteen Service, I shall begin
your instruction in earnest. I shall begin to mould you. To instill
into you, my own personal preferences, likes, and requirements with
regard to Foot Service. Tomorrow, I shall begin training you to
provide me with the standards of service that I require from you.
High standards, prisoner Lightwood. Very high standards standards
of excellence that I shall expect from you consistently ... Got
that, prisoner Lightwood?"
"Yes, Miss Bella Donna," I said, trying my utmost not to betray my
horrified feelings. Trying my utmost, not to make obvious my
profound dismay. Trying my utmost, to convey that my heart was in
it. "I've got it, Miss Bella Donna. I promise to do my best, to meet
your ... standards of excellence."
"I'm going down to the prison officers' bar now, for that nice,
cold, refreshing beer. I think I've earned it, don't you, prisoner
Lightwood, for bringing you so completely and comprehensively to
"Yes, Miss Bella Donna. I ... I think you've earned it. En enjoy
your beer, Miss Bella Donna."
"Here, prisoner Lightwood," she said, turning her back on me again
and presenting me with the sole of her left foot, this time. "You
will kiss the sole of my foot, before I leave you."
"Yes, Miss Bella Donna," I said.
And, like the lowliest of serfs being
allowed to pay homage to his majestic, high and mighty and
all-powerful queen, I began kissing the sole of prison officer Bella
Donna's expectantly proffered left foot.
From the pads and the undersides of
her dirty toes, to the grubby ball of her foot, to her relatively
clean arch, to the bottom of her grimy heel, I kissed and kissed and
kissed. I pressed my lips again and again into all of the warm and
yielding parts of her horribly begrimed sole kissing, as if I
meant it. As if my heart was in it.
Prison officer Victoria exclaimed,
staring accusingly at me, "He doesn't mean it! His heart isn't in
it! Don't be fooled, Bel prisoner Lightwood hasn't learned his
lesson, after all! He's not being ... sincere! He needs his balls
busting again! I'll do it! Let me do it!"
Prison officer Bella Donna then
turned around, facing me, and began releasing my wrists from the
restraints set into the cell's bars ... smugly smiling down at me,
as she did so.
Prison officer Bella Donna knew I was
scared witless of prison officer Victoria ... and why.
She knew that I was terribly afraid,
of the too-lovely-for-words terror. That I was in dread, of the
sugar-sweet sadist ... The angel-faced ball-kicker.
Prison officer Bella Donna knew, that
I was dependent upon her. Knew, that she was my protector and
shield. Knew, that I was reliant upon her "patronage". Knew, that
she and only she would keep prison officer Victoria at bay. Keep
her, from ... ruining me.
That is, for as
long as I 'behaved'.
"Until tomorrow afternoon then,
prisoner Lightwood," said prison officer Bella Donna. "When I shall
begin to mould you."
"Yes, Miss Bella Donna," I said.
"Oh, and prisoner Lightwood? If
you've enjoyed staring right up my skirt, today ... just wait until
My god! I thought. Tomorrow's the
day! Tomorrow will be the day, then, when prison officer Bella Donna
actually lets me see her
"Come on, Vicky," said prison officer
Bella Donna. "Come down to the prison officers' bar, with BJ and me.
Have a lemonade or something, if you don't drink alcohol."
Looking directly at me, prison
officer Victoria replied, "Okay, Bel. Let's go. But, do you know
what? Actually, I might have a nice, cold, refreshing beer, too."
Prison officer Victoria was just
cruelly winding me up, I knew. She must have noticed the looks of
mournful yearning on my face, I thought, at the repeated mentioning
of nice, cold, refreshing beer.
Something else, I'd miserably
realised, that, along with "actual, proper, coital sex", I would
also be going without from now on.
"So, Lenny ... you weren't prepared to do that, were you?" said
Ross, who had just witnessed the whole sorry spectacle.
Ross wasn't being sarcastic. And neither was he smugly rubbing in
his 'I told you so!' Though I was now admitting to myself that he
had every right to. No. He was just trying to be humorous. Trying to
see a funny side, as it were, of our wretched adversity.
But I wasn't in the mood. I didn't think I'd ever smile again let
alone laugh. This was no time for levity. And anyway there wasn't a
funny side, as far as I could see, to what was happening to Ross and
Ross had respectfully remained standing, in the presence of prison
officers. But as soon as prison officers Bella Donna, Billie Jo and
Victoria had departed for the comforts and the camaraderie and the
"nice, cold, refreshing beer" of the prison officers' bar, he'd
promptly hopped back up onto his top bunk bed.
knew from his wry and rueful tone that Ross was just being
solicitous. Showing his sympathy. His empathy.
Just one week after his own admission to Greystone Prison, he'd been
put through the exact same Ball-Bust punishment, by prison officer
Billie Jo. He knew what I'd just been through. What I'd suffered.
The unbelievable, excruciating pain. The unspeakable, soul-crushing
humiliation. He could actually empathise, with what I'd just been so
horrendously subjected to both on the Wheel of Chastisement, down
in the prison officers' gymnasium, and right here, restrained to the
bars of our cell. I knew Ross was well-meaning.
But I didn't need this now.
didn't need my cellmate however well-meaning trying to make
light of the incredible magnitude of my life's disastrously and
tragically altered course. Trying to lighten the mood. Trying to
trivialise the untrivial.
"Oh ... Shut up Gummy!" I told him peevishly.
... hell, I thought wretchedly.
I'd bitterly regretted my words as soon as I'd said them. I felt
ashamed of myself. Ross didn't deserve that. He was just being a
mate, a friend and a friend deserved better. And after all, I
didn't have the monopoly on misery. Ross shared in the same
unmitigated disaster shared in the same hideous fate as myself. We
were both in the same boat and up the same proverbial creek
without the same proverbial method of propulsion and navigation.
Both of us, not just me, were stranded and helpless and hopeless in
this damned hellhole called Greystone Prison. I wished I could take
my words back wished I'd never called my cellmate by the cruel
nickname that prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo had so
maliciously given him. He didn't need that. Not from me.
"I'm sorry, mate. I didn't mean it," I apologised, as I miserably
headed towards my own bottom bunk, which had suddenly taken on a
huge and irresistible attraction. "I'm not feeling too great, at the
"Forget it, Lenny. I know you're not yourself. I've been there,
remember? With prison officer Billie Jo. But at least you've still
got your teeth!"
This time Ross succeeded in making me smile. Albeit a small and
miserable and pathetic one. After everything he'd been through, he
was still capable of making a joke at his own expense. Still capable
of poking fun, at his disastrous and tragic predicament. So maybe
there was some sort of hope for me, too. Though I couldn't see any
"Yes," I agreed. "But for how long? You heard what prison officer
Bella Donna said. She said she'd let me keep my teeth 'for now'. She
said she was going to let the threat of the dentist dangle over me,
as an ever-present warning."
"Yes, I heard what Poison Ivy told you. And I believe every word of
what she said and so should you, Lenny. And you'll remember, mate,
I did try to warn you. I did try to tell you, didn't I, what prison
officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo are like what all of the
prison officers here are like? But no: you wouldn't listen to me,
would you? Remember?"
So, I was now getting Ross's 'I told you so!' after all. And it
served me damned well right, I thought.
Oh, I remembered, all right. And no, I hadn't listened to my
cellmate's repeated dire warnings, about the hideously cruel
practises perpetrated by the hideously cruel female prison officers
who worked here. Ross had done his absolute best to put me wise. I
had to give him that. He'd tried to make me understand. Tried to get
through to me, just exactly what and who we were really dealing with
here. Pleaded with me, to listen, to absorb what he was telling me
and to believe. Because believing was the hardest part. And of
course, what I'd believed was that he was wildly exaggerating.
"No, I didn't listen, Ross. And I'm sorry, mate. Honest, I am.
Because I know that my not listening to your warnings not only got
me into trouble, but got you into trouble too. You were due to be
released from this hellhole next week. But now you're not because
"No, Lenny. Don't beat yourself up about it, mate. You heard what
prison officer Billie Jo said, didn't you? About 'retaining' me
'indefinitely'? And about 'moulding' me, to cater to her own
personal likes and preferences, with regards to Foot Service? She
was never going to let me go. She was determined to keep me firmly
in her clutches, whatever it took trumped-up charges, corruption,
fibbing to the Governor about me whatever. And now it's the same
with you, with prison officer Bella Donna Poison Ivy! To use the
prison vernacular: we are their bitches now. You'd better get used
to the idea, Lenny. They as good as own us now. And they're never
going to let us go."
"Their ... bitches? My god, Ross! What sort of women are they? How
can they do this to us? How can they treat us this way? They love
it, don't they, having such power, such authority over male
prisoners? And I don't just mean prison officers Bella Donna and
Billie Jo, either, but the prison officers in general they all
seem just as bad as each other. It's like they've all got their own
personal man-hating axe to grind and to them Greystone Prison is
just one big whetstone. But, more to the point, why can they?
Why are they allowed, Ross, to dominate and subjugate and torment us
prisoners like this? That's what I'd like to know. How is it, that
such a terrible institution as Greystone Prison can actually even
exist, in the UK? There has to be something wrong with society."
"Well, it's the government, isn't it? With the Authoritarian Female
Party running the country, I think this is how things are going to
be. And as long as Caroline Flynt is Prime Minister, from a male
perspective things are just going to go from bad, to worse, to even
worse. Females have never had it so good. They've got it made,
Lenny, under the AFP. They don't even have to work anymore, if they
don't want to they can just simply claim the AFP's generous Living
Allowance. And if they do want to work, they get their salaries paid
tax-free. Ha! I don't think we'll be seeing any female prisoners in
Greystone Prison, being forced to serve at female prison officers'
feet. Not unless they were to take to the streets with banners and
placards and actually protest against the AFP's female-friendly
policies. And how likely is that? Nah ... Do you think they would
actually give up their community-servant run Sock Rooms, and all of
the other male-servant attended amenities that the AFP provides them
with? No, mate. The females of the UK know which side their bread is
buttered. They've got the whip-hand now, at last, and they want to
keep it that way."
knew from some female friends that that wasn't the attitude of all
of the UK's females. Most females, yes, undoubtedly. The vast
majority, even. But not all of them. No. Because I was aware that
some females actually did want to remove Caroline Flynt and
her AFP government from power, and go back to something more
resembling male/female equality. They felt that Caroline Flynt and
her Authoritarian Female Party hadn't just over-egged the pudding,
but that they were just taking things way, way too far now. And they
knew that all of these so-called female-friendly societal
improvements were here to stay. Here for good. Permanent. Because
there would be no going back. There would be no female-friendly
policy reversals, as long as the AFP remained in power. These
females felt that the AFP had misinformed no, had actually
hoodwinked the electorate, as to the far-reaching ambitions of their
true agenda. And that now, having first applied the thin end of
their wedge, the AFP were in the process of prying open an ever
widening female/male divide. Levering open a huge, separating gulf,
that would facilitate the further advancement and ensure the future
entrenchment of female rule.
So, I thought ... maybe Ross is wrong.
Maybe eventually some of those fairer-minded females would
actually take to the streets of the UK, and bravely protest against
the AFP's so-called female-friendly policies. Courageously protest
too, perhaps, against the iniquitous politicians of the
Authoritarian Female Party themselves.
my head, I could almost hear those equality-loving females'
passionate, outraged 'Down with the AFP' chants as they paraded the
streets with their protest placards and banners ... 'Caroline Flynt
out! Caroline Flynt out! Caroline Flynt out! When do we want
her out? Now!'
And so, I thought ... maybe someday Ross and me actually
would see female prisoners being incarcerated in Greystone
prison. See them being banged-up, on the five Levels.
shuddered at the thought.
The thought of fair-minded, right-thinking, equality-loving females
selflessly sacrificing their fantastic freedoms and fabulous
privileges in the cause of female/male equality ... and being sent
to Greystone Prison.
All too well, I could imagine the female prison officers' reception
of these imprisoned insurgent females ...
All too well, I could imagine the vindictive female prison officers'
wickedly delighting in making their treacherous, utopia-rejecting,
anti-AFP female prisoners suffer terribly for their crimes.
All too well, I could imagine the vengeful female prison officers
treating their rebellious female prisoners even more dreadfully
making them suffer even more horribly, and subjugating them even
more humiliatingly than their heinously oppressed male prisoners
... It didn't bear thinking about.
But I wasn't in the mood to talk about politics.
didn't want to talk about Caroline Flynt, and her damned
Authoritarian Female Party. It would just put me in an even blacker
mood if that was possible. Ultimately, Caroline Flynt was
responsible for my being in this hellish prison. Greystone Prison
was one of her brainchild projects. She was to blame, for my
horrendous, unspeakable predicament ... I certainly wouldn't be
voting for her again!
God, but I was so tired. I couldn't believe how tired I was. So
incredibly tired. So utterly exhausted.
And I was still hurting hurting all over. But hurting most of all,
were my testicles. Thankfully the swelling had gone down
considerably now, and my balls were almost back to their normal
size, which surprised me. But I couldn't believe the hurt. The hurt
that still wouldn't go away. The hurt that still painfully
persisted. The hurt that still nagged. No wonder I'd been so grumpy,
so snappy, so short-tempered with Ross.
Thanks to prison officer Bella Donna Poison Ivy! my bruised and
battered balls were still relentlessly throbbing and pulsing
painfully. Still radiating incessant, overlapping waves of cruelly
tormenting anguish to every part of my caned, kicked, slapped,
stomped, trampled, choked, ball-squeezed, ball-kicked body. No
wonder I wasn't myself.
thought that prison officer Billie Jo was right: the prison's
'therapy' strategists' theory behind the Ball-Bust's egregious,
agonising and long-lasting after-effect pain, was to keep the
Ball-Busted prisoner's post-chastisement mind focused for a good
while longer afterwards: To keep him thinking straight thinking
coherently and logically.
Well, they had damned well succeeded with me. Because from now on,
thinking straight thinking coherently and logically would be my
permanent state of mind. My stable mental condition.
There would be no more Ball-Busts for me, if I could possibly
prevent them. I didn't want another taste, of prison officer Bella
Donna's 'Number 5', expertly and flamboyantly delivered double
flick-kick affliction. I didn't want to experience again, her piece
de resistance, utterly devastating coup de grace, that Governor
Meredith Monroe had so much enjoyed and admired and extolled.
God, I was so weak. I was so, so tired. So utterly spent, I was
ready to drop.
All I'd had today was a cup of coffee this morning in the coffee bar
at Heathrow Airport Terminal 5 when I'd arrived back from my two
weeks' Austrian Alps camping holiday, what ... about twelve hours
ago now. I couldn't believe it. Only twelve hours? That seemed like
a lifetime ago no, it seemed now, like that was in another life
hadn't eaten a thing all day but food was the last thing on my mind
where would I find the energy to eat it? I was just so, so tired.
Incredibly tired. Beyond exhaustion. All of my strength had been
caned, kicked, stomped, trampled, squeezed and squashed out of me. I
had nothing left. All I wanted now, was to sleep.
Never in a million years would I have thought that the scratchy,
mean and miserable bedding of my bunk could look so incredibly
But never in my life before had I felt more comfortable, I thought,
as I gratefully lay down on my bottom bunk's hard, thin and lumpy
mattress, and threw the scratchy, threadbare dark-grey blanket over
me. Never known such bliss, as I thankfully rested my head upon the
hard and lumpy square-foot of inch-thick dark-grey foam that was
Greystone Prison's idea of a pillow.
Aahh ... I would be asleep in seconds now, I knew, and all of my
pain, all of this horrible hurting would finally go away,
anaesthetised by sleep. Just a few moments more, and I would be in
the land of Nod. Oh, I was tired. So tired. So incredibly tired ...
Sleep. That's what I needed. The healing powers of sleep. A nice,
refreshing, invigorating, revitalising sleep. An early night. That's
what the doctor ordered. That would put me on the mend. On the way
to getting back to normal. Aahh ... drifting now. It wouldn't be
long. A good night's kip, and I'd be
"Foot Service!" ordered one of the two prison officers who were now
standing at the bars of the cell. "Both of you!" she snapped
authoritatively. She had a very strong Irish accent. I couldn't
place it myself, but it was broad and obvious. "You, on the bottom
bunk assume the position!"
couldn't believe this.
Right on the cusp of being transported to the land of Nod, in
preparation for the journey my eyelids were all battened down and
air-seal suctioned shut or so it seemed. Because I was so
incredibly tired, it was now taking an act of will to break the
seals and force the lids open again.
"Come on, Lenny," said Ross resignedly, who'd immediately jumped
down from his top bunk, responding with alacrity to the Irish
accented prison officer's harshly issued command.
"Come on Foot Service!" ordered the second prison officer bossily.
"Chop chop!" This second prison officer had a Home Counties accent,
very similar to the sort of privileged-and-pampered sounding one of
prison officer Victoria.
No! I wailed inwardly. This can't be happening! I'm too tired!
"Lenny ...?" said my cellmate anxiously, upon seeing that I hadn't
yet moved from my bottom bunk.
"Now!" asserted the first prison officer, rattling her cane across
the bars of our cell meaningfully. "You, in the bottom bunk! Move!"
she ordered harshly. "I've told you once!" Her Irish accent sounded
even stronger now, with it's pronounced note of impatience. Her
harsh-voiced tone of command seemed natural to her, I thought, and
she certainly seemed easily riled.
finally managed to blink my eyes open. And now I looked over to the
other side of the cell's bars, at the two prison officers who were
calling Ross and me to Foot Service.
The first thing I noticed, as usual, was their legs. The two prison
officers both had the seemingly obligatory great legs ... and
neither of them were exactly lacking in the breasts department,
One of them had very eye-catching red, copper-coloured hair, while
the other early twenties woman was brunette. Their faces were very
attractive, too or at least they would have been, were it not for
the decidedly off-putting effect of their specially adapted concave
bob hairstyle, that looked militaristic, endowing the already
dominant-natured prison officers here with an even sterner air of
"You!" the redhaired, Irish accented prison officer snapped at me.
"Yes, you! Who do think I'm talking to? Out of that bunk,
now!" she ordered waspishly. "Assume the position for Foot Service
here, prisoner. Hold onto the bars here," she told me, pointing to
one of the four sets of wrist restraints set into the cell's bars.
"You've got some foot-cleaning to do."
"You, prisoner!" the brunette prison officer snapped at Ross. "I
require a foot massage ... Don't just stand there you idiot!" she
said imperiously. "You know what to do or you should do by now!"
she said with mind-staggering haughtiness. "Pass one of those
folding-seats through the bars to me. When I am comfortably seated,
you will then perform your foot-massaging service, whilst on your
knees. And as always, I shall expect your best work!"
What? I thought peevishly. Foot-cleaning for me, but only
foot-massaging for Ross? But I supposed it was just the luck of the
"Yes, Miss Annalise," replied Ross, apparently having previously
made the imperious young lady's acquaintance. "Right away, Miss
Annalise! I'll I'll just get your seat, for you, Miss Annalise,"
said my cellmate, with cringeworthy obsequiousness. "I'm coming,
Miss Annalise with your seat!"
For god's sake, I thought.
"Come on, Lenny!" Ross hissed urgently into my ear. He was crouching
down at my bunk, one hand holding onto one of the cell's two
tubular-framed dark-grey canvas folding-chairs, his other hand
squeezing and shaking my wrist in anxiety. "Come on! Don't make her
tell you again the prison officers don't like being made to repeat
themselves! And that's prison officer Rita! She's a real hellcat
almost as bitchy as prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo. So
get a move on, Lenny unless you want them to cane us! And for
god's sake, try to make it look as though your heart is in it!"
But Ross needn't have worried.
wasn't going to say 'No', to the two Wing-patrolling prison
officers. And especially not, to the Irish accented redhead who had
so authoritatively demanded my personal service prison officer
'Hellcat' Rita who was now showing even more obvious signs of
No. Because as incredibly tired as I was, as utterly exhausted as I
was, as totally spent as I was, I was still thinking straight
thinking coherently and logically.
mind had been expunged of irrational thought. My head was all nice
and clear. I had my thinking-cap on. I was seeing reason. I had seen
the errors of my ways.
The 'therapeutic treatment' had worked.
Ah, hell! I cursed inwardly, as I disgustedly and despairingly threw
off my scratchy, mean and miserable threadbare dark-grey blanket
along with any hopes of getting some sleep any time soon.
This is too much! I bemoaned inwardly, as I dragged myself from my
bunk, and trudged over towards the cell's bars.
But Ross had moved fast. Obediently. Compliantly. Unhesitatingly.
so far as it pertained to the prison officers, the word 'No' no
longer existed in Ross's vocabulary. Prison officer Billie Jo had
removed it, along with his teeth. Extracted it.
After his four months of incarceration in Greystone Prison, Ross
knew the score. He was already something of a veteran. And before I
had even reached the cell's bars, he was already on his knees, as
instructed by prison officer Annalise, and he was now massaging her
Prison officer Annalise was sitting on the folding-chair with her
bare feet inserted between the cell's bars. Well, her left foot was
resting on the flat crossbar near the bottom of the cell's bars,
while Ross held the foot of her outstretched right leg in both
Not that I was any judge, but Ross actually seemed to know what he
was doing he certainly wasn't getting any complaints from prison
officer Annalise. In an apparently well-practised synchronised
circular motion, he was firmly pressing both thumbs into the ball of
her right foot. His right thumb was turning clockwise, his left
thumb anticlockwise, and the pads of his seemingly competently
ministering thumbs were kneading deep, penetrating firmly into the
broad reddish-pink pad of prison officer Annalise's yielding meaty
looked like quite hard work, actually, I thought. And quite
obviously it required a level of skill, too. Massaging prison
officer Annalise's foot, whilst also supporting the weight of her
relaxed outstretched leg, didn't look to me like an easy task to
perform. But Ross seemed to be coping well enough. By the looks of
things Ross had been getting in a lot of practise. Quite obviously,
during the last four months he'd made significant inroads into
improving and honing his foot-massage skills.
couldn't help but notice that the sole of prison officer Annalise's
right foot was very dirty. Very dirty, from her deliberately 'saved
up', all-day accumulation of thin-rubber soled flip flop induced
sweat-smudged workaday grime ... Soon, I strongly suspected, Ross
would be doing some serious foot-cleaning work of his own.
now saw the name tag of the red headed, Irish accented prison
officer who had so peremptorily summoned me to Foot Service, to
deprive me of my so desperately needed sleep. Just as Ross had said,
her name was Rita.
"Yes, Miss Rita," I said in response to her abrupt command, while
staring respectfully down at the tops of her pale-skinned feet.
Which was just as well I was: it was very hard unsettling
looking into her penetrating, danger-threatening green eyes. Irish
eyes, that were very definitely not smiling. Oh-oh, I thought. This
"You took your time," she told my bowed head, with more than a hint
of the redheads' proverbial fiery temper evident in her tone. Her
strong Irish accent, I thought, greatly reinforced this impression.
"Look at me!" she snapped irritably.
looked up at her as instructed. But, because I couldn't maintain
direct eye contact with her; was already too cowed, to look right
into her predatory green eyes, I tried to focus instead upon her
pale, freckle-cheeked face.
"So ... You think it's okay, do you, to keep me waiting? To ignore
me? To carry on lying in bed, long after you have been told to get
yourself over here to these bars? Well, do you, prisoner ...? It
doesn't matter, that you have just been Ball-Busted. We don't give a
fiddler's curse, how much you are hurting, or how tired you are
and you are a fool if you think we do, so you are! Because if you
don't obey us promptly, we'll just hurt you some more. Understand?
So now I am telling you: In future, when a prison officer calls you
to Foot Service whatever the time of day, or whatever the time of
night you will respond at once. Do you hear me? And, unless a
prison officer instructs you otherwise, you will automatically
assume the position. And I mean immediately. Instantly. Without
hesitation. Got that? Because if you don't, prisoner, you'll quickly
find yourself in another painful bed of your own making ... Am I
making myself clear?"
Nervously, I nodded my acknowledgement to prison officer Rita that
yes, she was making herself clear. I didn't trust my voice.
Thankfully, I'd only said three words. But I'd still struggled to
imbue into my tone, sufficient respect, sufficient reverence
sufficient obsequiousness that would convey to a prison officer
that I was duly adhering to the standards of propriety that the
prison officers demanded of their prisoners at all times. Struggled
to convey, that my heart was in it. It had been hard to summon the
But I knew that if she thought my heart wasn't in it if she didn't
consider my forthcoming Foot Service performance to be up to scratch
when she'd done with me prison officer 'Hellcat' Rita was at
liberty to leave me in my assuming-the-position position with my
wrists restrained to the cell's bars. Until she or another
Wing-patrolling prison officer decided that I was shaping
can't take this! I wailed inwardly, as I grabbed hold of the cell's
bars and, following Ross's earlier example, inserted my legs into
two of the floor-level torpedo-tube like holes in the wall under the
cell's bars ... and prison officer Rita promptly snapped shut around
my wrists two of the restraining wristlets set into the cell's bars.
just can't take this! I'm so tired! I cried inwardly.
But prison officer Rita, who didn't care a fiddler's curse how tired
I was, told me, "Now, prisoner. You will thoroughly tongue-clean the
soles of my feet ..." she turned her back on me and did a quick
one-two, raising her legs behind her and showing me the dirty soles
of first her right foot, and then her left "... and I mean spotless.
"Yes, Miss Rita," I said. "I'll I'll try and do ... a good job."
good job? A good job is not good enough it's no good at all. I
mustn't find fault with your foot-cleaning service. Understand? If I
am the slightest bit dissatisfied with the results of your
foot-cleaning work, I shall leave you restrained to the bars of your
cell. Then, when other Wing-patrolling prison officers come along
and see you like this, they will know the reason why: because you
have provided Foot Service of substandard quality. And, because of
that, it will then be all the harder for you to satisfy those prison
officers; all the more difficult for you, to convince them that your
heart is in it. Am I making myself clear, prisoner ...? Don't just
stupidly nod, you cretin! Answer me!"
"Yes, Miss Rita," I said, my voice trembling. "You you've made
yourself clear," I assured the redhaired, fiery-tempered,
sleep-depriving Irish accented prison officer.
then heard a chuckle, followed by a titter, and I looked around to
see that the brunette prison officer, Annalise, had an amused smile
on her face. She'd been greatly amused, apparently, at listening to
what prison officer Rita had just said to me and, of course, at
how I had so tremulously and pitifully responded to her colleague's
cruel domineering. Browbeating and belittling bullying the loser
prisoners was such great sport!
saw that prison officer Annalise was now resting the back of her
heel on the bars' flat crossbar, displaying the whole of her dirty
left sole. Her eyes were half closed and, as though in pleasurable
response to Ross's apparently highly agreeable ministrations, she
was repeatedly splaying and then scrunching tightly the toes of her
Ross, for his part, was studiously concentrating on his foot-massage
service, seemingly focusing his full and undivided attention, now,
upon massaging the arch of prison officer Annalise's right foot.
What was going on with me and prison officer 'Hellcat' Rita wasn't
any of his business and he definitely didn't want to be drawn into
Prison officer Rita told me in warning, "Remember, prisoner: no
second chances." She then turned her back on me, and stepped back
until she was standing up flush against the cell's bars, right in
front of me. Exactly as prison officer Bella Donna had done before
my assuming-the-position position, my face was on a level with
prison officer Rita's calves, which were almost milk-white. Her
colouring as a redhead, I supposed.
preferred women to have a bit of skin-tone colour on them. Redheads
were almost always pale-skinned; sometimes very much so, due to
their sun-averse skin type.
But then, I thought, redheads were different. There was just ...
something, about redheads. I don't know ... a certain something,
that set redheads apart from all other women.
The saying went, that 'Blondes have more fun'. And that might be
true. But if it was, I thought, I bet redheads have more sex.
God, I thought. This redhead had really nice, shapely legs. Really
great legs, to be fair to her. To a leg-man like me, prison officer
Rita's legs were knockout. Dynamite.
Right up close, like this, I was in a great position to appreciate
them, and ... And now, when I looked up, I could see right up prison
officer Rita's uniform pale-blue short skirt ... My god! She wasn't
wearing her panties!
Oh, I didn't need this!
But then prison officer Rita, upon picking up on the vibe of my
sudden excitement, promptly started getting down to the business at
hand ... And then I was suddenly staring, right up close, at
something I wasn't nearly so appreciative of.
Prison officer Rita slipped her right foot from its prison officer
issue pale-blue, thin-rubber soled flip flop, and raised her foot
behind her until the sole of her foot was level with my horrified
and dismayed face. She then passed her foot between the bars, and
let it hover there so that I could have an even closer look at what
I had coming to me.
What struck me, was how incredibly white her arch looked. In
comparison with the impact points of her sole: her heel, the ball of
her foot, and her toe pads, her arch was almost milk-white. And
though all of these impact points were all undeniably very dirty,
they were made to look all the more so because of the stark, creamy
paleness of her arch's almost unbesmirched skin.
Some of the more cruel Greystone Prison officers preferred to 'save
up' for later, their bottom-of-the-foot filth, letting it accumulate
until their work shift was nearly over. And very obviously prison
officer 'Hellcat' Rita was one of them.
The soles of her feet had become extremely grubby and grimy; the
seemingly multilayered dirt and grime all sweat-smudged, from a long
day of patrolling the Levels in her prison officer issue thin-rubber
soled flip flops. The evidence in front of my eyes was quite
conclusive: prison officer 'Hellcat' Rita was definitely one of the
fifty-shades-of-grey prison officers.
Looking down on me over her right shoulder, prison officer Rita
said, "Now, prisoner ... open that foot-cleaning mouth of yours
and open it wide. As you can clearly see, my feet are very dirty,
after working my twelve-hour shift. Which is of course where you
come in. First, I'll let you give my toes a nice, dirt-and-grime
loosening soak. And then you can start agitating the all-day
build-up of ingrained dirt with your tongue. There's no telling what
you're going to find, all squished up between my sweaty toes, but
you'll swallow everything. Got that? Everything. And you'll keep on,
licking and agitating and rubbing and scrubbing the soles of my
dirty feet with your tongue, and swallowing everything, until you
are ready for me to inspect the results of your foot-cleaning work
... Got that, prisoner?"
"Yes, Miss Rita," I said, trying to
inject the requisite enthusiasm into my voice: one of the prison
officers' benchmark indicators, as to whether or not a prisoner's
heart was in it. "I've got it, Miss Rita!"
Prison officer Annalise chuckled and
tittered again but I didn't think it was because Ross was tickling
And now, as I compliantly accepted
the rude insertion of prison officer Rita's dirty, sweaty toes into
my wide open mouth, once again I found myself looking right up her
pale-blue short skirt, and observing with my now perfect, totally
unrestricted view that which I most definitely was
appreciative of: prison officer 'Hellcat' Rita's pussy.
But, no! I didn't need this! I really didn't!
But, just as with prison officer Billie Jo's pussy earlier, during
our "little chat" in the lift, I was finding it absolutely
impossible, not to look. Impossible, not to observe. Impossible, not
to appreciate ... And impossible, not to want.
Sucking on and in between prison officer Rita's toes, the taste was
awful. Terrible. But, as my taste buds involuntarily responded to
the sharp, salt and vinegary tang of the vile, disgusting, revolting
dirty-feet flavour, my mouth automatically filled with the
cleaning-fluid of saliva "just like an automatic washing
And, as my saliva-slick tongue soaked, agitated, rubbed scrubbed and
loosened the all-day accumulation of dirt, grime and sweat from
around and in between prison officer Rita's toes, I swallowed
everything. And I kept on, swallowing everything.
But, I thought, as I continued my soaking, agitating, rubbing and
scrubbing, and loosening and swallowing everything as I compliantly
tongue-cleaned prison officer Rita's dirty sweaty toes, and my mouth
kept automatically replenishing itself with more clean saliva, at
least I had something else, to focus on.
Something else, to focus on, to try and take my mind off the awful,
disgusting, filthy-feet taste ... Because I was focusing instead,
upon the awesome, mesmerising sight, of prison officer Rita's pussy.
But, I didn't need this! No, I didn't!
Hell despite everything I'd gone through!
Despite the state I was in: Despite my still-sore balls. Despite the
awful, terrible, disgusting dirty-feet taste in my mouth despite
everything! I was getting an erection.
Obediently sucking on prison officer 'Hellcat' Rita's dirty sweaty
filthy toes, I was staring right up her uniform pale-blue short
skirt, at her magnificent pussy ... and at her short,
And my erection was getting bigger.
Compliantly sucking on prison officer 'Hellcat' Rita's grubby, grimy
toes, and swallowing everything, and staring up past her grubby,
grimy heel right up her uniform pale-blue short skirt, at her
fabulous pussy, I was becoming filled with such a pining, yearning,
ravening lust, way beyond anything I had ever experienced before.
And I was getting a real hard-on!
Hell! I didn't need this! I really didn't!
Prison officer Annalise then leaned over, and ... had a look.
"Oooh ... big boy get him! Hey, Rita you are really
revving his engine! Ha ha ha ha! He's going right into the red!"
"Suck harder, prisoner!" commanded the redhaired, fiery-tempered,
sleep-depriving Irish accented prison officer authoritatively. "I
don't care, if your foot-cleaning tongue is getting tired I only
care about results! Do you hear me? About your marks out of ten
the marks out of ten that I'll be awarding you. Because only ten out
of ten is satisfactory. Nothing less. Got that? You'll need to score
full marks ten out of ten. Not eight, or nine. But ten.
Understand? Only ten out of ten, prisoner Lightwood, is good
The brunette prison officer, Annalise, tickled pink, chuckled and
tittered some more. "Prisoner Lightwood must really like
tongue-cleaning prison officers' dirty feet, mustn't he, Rita? He's
going crazy down there! He's rampant! Ha ha ha ha! It's a good job
his hands are restrained to the cell's bars!"
"He'd better learn to like it, Annalise. That's for sure, so it is.
I think I'm going to be using prisoner Lightwood regularly. Because
I can feel his tongue doing a damn fine job, so I can!"
"I'll have my dirty feet cleaned, too, in a minute," said prison
officer Annalise with flabbergasting casualness. "I've got the one
with the convenient toe holds and extra wiggle room. You know, Rita,
the prisoner who said 'No' twice, to BJ?"
But I was barely noticing now what prison officer Annalise was
saying, and what she was chuckling and tittering about.
No. Because my mind was otherwise occupied, and fully focused.
Occupied, and fully focused, on the mesmerising up-skirt sight of
pantyless prison officer 'Hellcat' Rita's magnificent pussy ... and
on her short, copper-coloured curls.
Because prison officer Annalise was right: the redhaired,
fiery-tempered, sleep-depriving Irish accented prison officer
'Hellcat' Rita was taking me "right into the red".
And incredibly my erection was getting even bigger. And even harder.
A real boner. The hard-on of my life.
But, my god! I didn't need this! I really, really didn't need
No, I didn't!
Because prison officer Billie Jo had been right, too, in what she'd
told me earlier, during our "little chat" in the lift.
knew that, just as soon as I was allowed to get back to my miserable
bunk, I was going to be taking the only remedy option available, to
an 'over-excited' prisoner.
The self-administered remedy. The do-it-yourself cure.
Except of course, it wasn't a cure. But only a temporary relief,
But it was going to have to do.
Because prison officer Billie Jo had been right: I would be "taking
things in hand", a lot sooner than I thought!
The Jailhouse Blues continues and concludes in chapter 3.
story is written by David, please send comments and appreciation to