Chapter 12
All the tests which lovely Beth Calhoun had taken meant really nothing; the real "test" had been the assistant matron's attempted seduction of the dark-brown-haired prisoner, and the fact that Beth Calhoun had indignantly rebuffed the Lesbian was carefully noted in the latter's report to Alma Burbage the very next morning.
"So she isn't going to play games, it appears," the superintendent drawled as she lit a cigarette. "In that case, we'll start her with a week or two in the laundry, and maybe she'll get some sense. Besides the exercise will streamline that gorgeous shape of hers."
"Just don't take too many pounds off her ass, Alma," the vindictive Lesbian purred, "because I'd like to do that myself with a paddle."
"You'll do nothing of the sort. Don't forget who's in charge here. And besides, Flossie and I have prime call on the new fish. When we're done with them, you can have your share. And anyway, you've got your own little pets, as I know, so don't come whining to me for a sweetie pie, not a new girl like this. Dismissed!"
When the woman had left Alma Burbage's office with a disgruntled look on her face, the superintendent had crushed out her cigarette and pressed a buzzer on the intercom panel at the side of her desk, and Flossie Durkin promptly entered, grinning and in good humor.
"What's up, Alma?"
"Calhoun's for the laundry detail. Put her there first thing tomorrow morning. And see if you can't get a couple of demerits on her somehow today."
"Leave it to me. I gave her the rule book and she's read it all right. I asked her a couple of questions, and she knows the answers perfectly. Whether she'll act them out is another thing."
"Well, she doesn't seem to want a little protectress at night, I hear."
"That's fine. I thought she would say that. But we're going to keep this little cherry for ourselves. Apparently the only time she ever had an affair was with that fellow who got her into this, so my guess is that, being the sensitive bitch she is, she's going to be awfully sorry she ever took up with him, when she spent some lonely nights after a hard day in the laundry. That'll make her very susceptible, Flossie, and a little persuasion won't hurt. Especially when she finds out that if she doesn't cooperate, that sweet ass of hers is going to be awfully sore and she's going to have more work that she can keep up with. She's going to be on her knees begging for a chance to be a good, sweet little bed bitch, you watch and see. That's all, Flossie. Wait-there's one other thing. How are Amy and Christine?"
"They're still in the infirmary, natch, Alma. They won't be trying those tricks any more."
"Well, when they get out, they can go right straight to the laundry, too. And I want Mabel to watch them every minute. The same goes for Genevieve."
Flossie Durkin's ugly face lit up and she winked. "Don't worry, Alma. Genevieve will keep those bitches hustling, and Calhoun too. I'll see you around. By the way, are you doing anything special next Saturday night?"
"At the moment I can't think of anything. Why?"
"Just thought we might have a little party with some of the new fish. Maybe by then Amy and Christine could join us."
"That might be fun. I've got a dear friend coming from New York. She's quite a bull dagger, and she just loves using a dildo. Especially one that's got ticklers on it. Wouldn't you just love to see Amy and Christine screwed?"
"That would be fun. Be talking to you, Alma. I'll get right to Genevieve.
Genevieve Corley was a handsome, rawboned woman of about thirty-eight, and head of the laundry workshop to which, as a rule, the uncooperative and incorrigible prisoners were sent. She was an exacting taskmistress, and she was also as confirmed a Lesbian as all of the higher echelon of Keston. She had her own pets, like every matron in the prison. These girls filled the roles of supervisors, making sure that the unfortunates assigned to the steaming laundry kept up their quota of work, wasted no time in gossiping, and didn't abuse the privilege of two toilet breaks a day. If a girl was having her period, she received three toilet breaks a day, and more than that required special permission from Genevieve herself-who dispensed these as she might special privileges and only in return for "cooperation." Many a girl had had to wet her own panties in desperation because, having no desire to yield to Genevieve's impassioned advances and sadistic love-play, she chose the lesser evil rather than ask for permission to go to the lavatory even when it was most urgently needed.
Beth Calhoun filed in the line going into the refectory for lunch that fateful day, shivering at the cruel faces of the supervisory faces of the matrons who herded the inmates to their midday meal. She had read the rulebook indeed, and she knew that no talking was permitted during eating. There was a full hour of recreation given in the afternoon if the weather was pleasant, out in the prison courtyard, and here talking was permitted. Of course, prisoners in their cells were permitted to talk to one another, but she wasn't permitted to have a roommate yet. In a way, she wanted one. She had to talk to someone or go mad. If only Al Barker had told the truth, she wouldn't be here. Oh God, the prospect of three miserable years in this dreadful place made her want to die right now!"
But Flossie Durkin had already done her evil work at Alma Burbage's bidding. She had approached one of her own little pets, a seventeen-year-old girl named Abbie Benson, a meek, scared little rabbit who was there for a year on a charge of shoplifting and who had already at fourteen displayed a rather unwholesome interest in her own sex, having had a crush on her high-school gym instructress. Abbie was of medium height, quite slim, with a startlingly large pair of titties and a most undulatingly mobile pair of high-set, round, solid asscheeks which had already known Flossie's paddling attentions several times in the four months she had now spent here.
To save herself further paddlings, Abbie had all too willingly gone to bed with Flossie Durkin and in the head matron's opinion, was one of the best gammers in Keston. She had been promised a cushy job in the library if she managed to pull this off, and she stared at Beth Calhoun who was just ahead of her, with an eager little grin on her insipidly pretty face. As they rounded the corner on their way to the refectory, she adroitly put out her right foot and tripped Beth Calhoun, who sprawled with a cry of pain and surprise. Instantly, Flossie Durkin was hurrying forward.
"What's going on here? Calhoun, on your feet! You're holding up the luncheon line."
"But I was tripped-I didn't do it on purpose," Beth indignantly replied, which was exactly the attitude that Flossie hoped she would plunge into.
"Talking back, eh? I'll just put down a couple of demerits for that, Calhoun!"
"But that's not fair!"
"Well now, we've got another jailhouse lawyer on our hands. Step out of line, Calhoun, arms at your sides, head down. You've just missed your lunch today, I'm afraid."
"It's still not fair! I tell you, I was tripped. The girl in line beside me did it."
"That's a very serious charge. Abbie, get over tome here now!"
"Yes, Head Matron," the light-brown-haired girl simpered.
"Did you trip Calhoun there?"
"Oh no, Head Matron. I wouldn't think of a thing like that. I don't want to get into trouble, you know that."
"I didn't think so. All right, go on in to lunch, Abbie. The rest of you, snap it up there!"
And when at last all the inmates had shuffled into the large refectory, where only the night before they had watched the punishment of Amy and Christine, Flossie Durkin grinned at the unhappy dark-brown-haired beauty: "I can see you're a born troublemaker, Calhoun. You got a demerit last night, and these two call for a little session with Miss Burbage. Come along with me right now."
"Last night? But I didn't do anything!" Beth Calhoun protested.
"Are you contradicting the word of a matron? Now you come along or I'll make it four demerits and you'll find yourself in a peck of trouble. Walk ahead of me, and I'll tell you where to go!"
With a groan, Beth Calhoun obeyed. Soon they were before Alma Burbage's office. Flossie Durkin knocked, opened the door and gave Beth Calhoun a shove forward.
"This girl's created a scene at luncheon lineup, Miss Burbage," she said with obvious satisfaction, "and you know she had a demerit last night."
"But that's not fair-and what did I do last night? Anyway, I was tripped, Miss Burbage. I didn't fall on purpose. It's not fair-I don't think it's right to treat me this way."
"Your attitude is very bad, Miss Calhoun," Alma Burbage said in a cold voice. "You're off to a very bad start your first week. Three demerits. I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to give you the library job I'd hoped. You'll start tomorrow in the laundry, under Matron Corley, and this evening, Miss Durkin here is going to punish you. It will be right before you go to bed, and it will be in her quarters."
"Punish me? But why? You haven't any right to punish prisoners, I know you haven't," Beth burst out in amazement, defiantly.
Flossie Durkin crossed over to the unhappy young woman and viciously slapped her across the cheek. "Don't you dare use that tone of voice to the superintendent, you little bitch!" she snapped. "I'm marking you down for another demerit right now, for that. You're going to get yourself spanked on the bare ass, and by me. I'm going to make you eat humble pie, you watch and see. Now I'll just take you back to your cell and you'll wait till supper. It's your own fault if you're hungry."
"Miss Burbage, for God's sake, this is unjust. I swear I was tripped by the girl in line behind me!"
"I questioned her, Miss Burbage, and she utterly denies it. I think that Abbie Benson is quite trustworthy. In fact, I recommend that she be given a job in the library. I think she's earned it."
The superintendent nodded. "I'll have a transfer made at once. That's all, Calhoun."
"But you've no right-you're not supposed to punish prisoners-oh, this is inhuman-" Beth Calhoun groaned, tears blurring her lovely eyes.
"Just keep it up, and this time you'll find yourself back in the refectory, but this time over a wooden horse and with everybody watching your big butt get it!" Flossie Durkin put in maliciously, and thus Beth Calhoun, tears running down her cheeks, reluctantly turned and left the superintendent's office, while Alma Burbage smirked with eager anticipation of the night, for she meant to share Flossie Durkin's recreations of the night in inflicting malicious and lascivious treatment on this beautiful, innocent "new fish."