Chapter 16
And for the next two weeks, Beth Calhoun was relieved from the hell of the laundry, working in the library. But her nights were not her own. When the lights went out, there was the inevitable step of Flossie Durkin opening her cell, smirking at her, drawing her out, more gently now, in a hypocritical kind of tenderness, to an orgy. That week she was forced, with two sixteen-year-old girls, to visit Dr. Marsha Andrews, where Alma Burbage and Flossie Durkin were also honored quests. The three naked prisoners had to gamahuch the trio of Keston's rulers, and then themselves put on a sixty-nining, gamahuching spectacle for the entertainment of their jailers, and then all three had to be gamahuched again so they could experience a change of partners.
Beth Calhoun prayed only that she might die, and forget her eternal shame. She didn't even want to think about a nice, decent fellow like Ken Davis, nor about her mother who had given her birth. She was nothing worse but a whore now, a used plaything for these loathsome women. She despised sex with every bone in her body, and she wished to heaven that she were ugly, so they wouldn't lust after her. But at least it saved her the whip, and she couldn't endure that again. Not after that night, after she had spent that horrible day in the laundry. The mere thought, the mere glimpse of a whip made her flesh cringe.
But meanwhile Ken Davis had finally got before the judge, who had returned refreshed from his vacation, with the transcript of Al Barker's confession. The judge at once issued a bench warrant to bring lovely Beth Calhoun back to Chicago, and it was Flossie Durkin herself who drove the girl from Keston in her own Lincoln Continental, warning her all the way not to open her yap too much-or else.
But once in the judge's chambers, Beth Calhoun was asked questions by the now sympathetic judge, and answered them, and Al Barker's testimony was produced, and the judge finally conceded that the State had made a mistake, and an order was issued for the release of Beth Calhoun and the clearance of her record to show it free from any criminal indictment. Beth Calhoun broke down and wept, while Flossie Durkin, cheated of her prey, glowered in the rear of the courtroom when Beth came out of the chambers with young Davis supporting her with his arm around her.
"It will just be a few more days and then you'll be free, and I'll be waiting for you, Beth," he said gently.
"Oh, if I could only get out alive-"
"Why? What do you mean?"
"It's terrible there-I shouldn't tell you-that horrible woman there-she's the head matron-she's threatened me so often that if I ever said a word-but all those poor girls and women there, they're beaten, they're given terrible food, and the worst of it is, they have to-they have to be just about prostitutes to the matrons, yes, and even to the superintendent!" Beth gasped, her cheeks turning red with shame as she lowered her eyes.
"Are you sure of it?"
"Oh, yes! I could show you-I still have some of the marks from where they whipped me last-and they-they made me do the filthiest things-that women do with one another-in a prison. Oh, Ken, please get me out of there!"
"Wait till I talk to Judge Bronfield a minute." He left her there with a bailiff and hurried back to the judge's chambers. Twenty minutes later he came out, grim-faced, went up to Beth Calhoun and said, "There's going to be an investigation. They'll call the governor in Springfield and he'll have a prison management expert pay a surprise visit to Keston. And meanwhile, we'll keep you here overnight in protective custody until the formal order comes through. It's the least I can for you, Beth dear."
Flossie Durkin didn't hear what was being said between the handsome young attorney and the young girl who had become her personal toady and bed slave, and whom she shared with Alma Burbage. She was anxious to get back to Alma Burbage and report that apparently the little bitch hadn't opened her mouth. But they were going to let her go. Well, they had fun for a while, and there would be others like Beth Calhoun, lots of others.
And so the next evening, as was their wont, Flossie Durkin and Alma Burbage and even Dr. Marsha Andrews met in the large punishment room in the basement where all the instruments of punishment were aligned on the walls and where there were straps and whips and bondage equipment of all kinds. Two seventeen-year-old girls were being whipped, blindfolded and naked. One was on the whipping horse and one was bent over the stool. Both had refused to girlfuck: both were "new fish" and both had been there for ten days.
Suddenly the door burst open and Clara Henshaw rushed in, her face pale, her eyes huge, hardly able to speak.
"Th-there's somebody here from Springfield. Oh my god, get those girls out of here fast?"
"What are you taking about?"
"Somebody's here to investigate us. They're asking for you, Alma! Oh my God-No!"
A tall, bespectacled man, followed by a male secretary, had just entered. "I see," he said grimly. "I guess that your attorney wasn't making this up after all. Which one of you is Alma Burbage?"
Alma Burbage was in just her slip and high-heeled pumps, and she had the good grace to blush and lower here eyes, as she murmured, "I-I guess I am."
"And the rest of you are matrons, I suppose? Which of you is the head matron?"
"Me, quavered Flossie Durkin suddenly pale with terror.
"Have someone dress those girls and put them back in their cells. You, Miss Burbage, come back with me. I want to talk with you in your office. There will be criminal charges filed against all of you!"
Beth Calhoun was free. She was reunited with her mother in Peoria. The divorce action was completed, and Dennis Henderson had vanished forever, running off with some girl. And Beth's mother wept as the two women held each other in a tight embrace. And Beth's mother sobbed, "If only I'd understood-all this wouldn't have happened-and when I think of what happened to you there, and it wasn't your fault-I could just kill Dennis-oh well, I want to make it up to you!"
"I'll take care of that, Mrs. Calhoun," Den Davis smiled. He moved up to Beth and put his arm around her shoulders, drew her to him and cupped her chin with his hand.
"Darling, I want you to marry me. I know it's sort of sudden, but you're a beautiful girl and you deserve a little happiness. I promise you, you'll never see the inside of anything like Keston again. And the only problem you'll have is trying to make me show you every day how much I really love you."
A week later, Beth and Ken were married. They were in the Drake Hotel in Chicago, in the bridal suite. Beth was shy about being naked and she was stammering, "But, Ken darling, you've got to give me a little time. After all those terrible things that were done to me-I don't even know that I could respond to you."
"I think you can, honey. Let's see if I can't make you love me good tonight."
With this, he sank down to his knees before her, put his hands gently on her bottom and his lips softly on her cunt and began to suck and gamahuch her. Beth moaned and sobbed, squirming, "Oh God, they did that-oh please, it reminds me-oh Ken darling-" she moaned.
But all the same her passions were being aroused. Then suddenly he rose, his prick massive. He was naked as she was, and as he put his hands to her bottom, he thrust his prick into her cunt to the hilt.
"And what about this?" he panted. Then he began to kiss her, taking her breath away with the straining passion of his love, and his fingers kneaded her naked ass, and he slowly began to stroke his prick in and out of her. And this time Beth Calhoun responded, and it was with all her body and soul, and this time she knew the difference between a man's prick and an artificial dildo. And this time she had to admit to herself happily as she expired in climax, that she really didn't mind being gamahuched-not if it was by her loving husband!
A little later, after she had blushingly hurried to the bathroom to perform her ablutions, Beth Davis-for such was now her name-came back, her cheeks rosier than ever, for now she was of her own accord showing her voluptuous young body to her husband ... to a man for the first time, and eagerly in the sweet knowledge that she was loved.
"Come back to bed, you little hussy you," Ken Davis huskily muttered as he reached for his beautiful young wife. "I'm going to make you forget all about those vicious women who treated you so badly. Don't you worry, Beth honey, they'll be punished as they deserve."
"I wish," she murmured as she turned to him on her side, her hands stroking his chest, "I just wish I could have tied that awful head matron and the superintendent up on their own horrible apparatuses and used a paddle on them."
"Why, Beth Davis!" he chuckled, cupping her titties and kissing the nipples tenderly, "you sound bloodthirsty, a gentle sweet darling like you. But I can understand." His face darkened. "I wish I'd had a change to pay them back for what they did. But you're to forget all that, dearest. My job is to make you learn how to love all over again."
"And-and you're succeeding, dear Ken. . .my husband, my own sweet husband. Mmmmm, that feels lovely-" for he was sucking her tittie-buds again and now his forefinger had roamed down to the soft sinky dark-brown curls of her snatch and was beginning to find the dainty soft moist lips of her ardent young quim.
His mouth took hers and he pressed to her, his cock hard again and rooting for her twat. He parted the lips and gently edged his spearhead just inside the lobby of her lovesheath. "This time, it won't hurt, I promise," he murmured.
"Ohhh-you're r-right-oooh, it's so nice, Ken-OH MY!" she squealed, for his finger had just found her clitoris and begun to roll and rub it gently to and fro.
His right leg was clamped over her left thigh as they both lay on their sides, mouths fused together, his cock halfway in, and his right forefinger tickling the hardening nodule of her clitoris. Beth joyously clasped her arms round his neck and, eyes closed, ardently gave him her sweetly nectared mouth, her nostrils flaring and shrinking as she felt the swelling male hardness of him rasping along the tenderized volutes of her tight cunt scabbard.
Slowly he reached the hilt, and, hairs to hairs, luxuriated in the sweet feel of her womb walls' clamping round his rooted ramrod. She moaned in this delicious tutelage of what her body could feel and what powers of pleasure it could procure for both of them.
"Does it hurt now, darling?" he murmured, kissing her forehead.
"Oh-n-no-oh Ken, it's so lovely-ohh, I feel you in me, like a pulse, beating and throbbing deep inside of me and I-I'm throbbing with love for you in there, my sweetheart, my husband!" Beth panted. Her bare white thigh clenched tightly over his, as she arched her pelvis to him, wanting to feel every hard manly inch of his imbedded prick deep inside her twat.
"Then you needn't ever worry again that they contaminated you, Beth darling. You're wholesome and good, and they just wanted to corrupt you, but they couldn't. You'd rather love me now than be with those women, wouldn't you?"
"Ohh my goodness yes!" she blurted so hastily, then blushed, that he chuckled and kissed her hard.
Then, his forefinger slowly plying her clitoris back and forth, he drew his cock back and forth out of her tightening cuntsheath and began to fuck her lingeringly. Now that the burning edge was eased from his first lovegush inside her twat, he knew he could take his time and work her up to the paradise of passion.
And it would be a passion no longer imprisoned, as in that women's passion prison of Keston.
Beth Davis wasn't to know that justice had been done, but Alma Burbage knew it. Discharged as superintendent of Keston, she was brought to trial for malfeasance in office, cruelty and assault, convicted and sent to a women's prison.
But there, her Lesbian ardors did not cool, and she made the fatal mistake of making up to a handsome, stocky matron whom she believed shared her perverse lusts. The matron took her into a solitary cell, gagged and bound her, and then thrashed her bottom with a strap-but did not solace her as she yearned to be. And that was Alma Burbage's punishment for passionate perversity. Flossie Durkin and the other matrons who had taken part in the cruelties administered to the helpless Keston inmates were all given prison terms.
And so was Dr. Marsha Andrews, her medical license taken from her and sent to the same prison where Alma Burbage was incarcerated. Irony had it that both women met in the recreation yard, exchanged a sad look, but did not speak. For them, all passion was gone.
For beautiful Beth Calhoun Davis, it was just beginning-a healthy, responsive passion nurtured by the love of a virile male whose only playful cruelty might be spanking her sweet bare bottom to rouse her to fucking time-and this she longed for!