Chapter 7

Two nights after Al Barker had had a duplicate key made from Beth Calhoun's departmental key to the claims department, he got into the building from a rear basement window, climbed the stairs and avoided the drowsing night watchman, and entered the department. Swiftly, playing a flashlight over the desks, he found in one of the drawers in a private office of the manager of the department some numbered checkbooks stamped with the company's name and signature. He pocketed three books, and left the office swiftly, congratulating himself on the ease of the operation. Unfortunately, he had overlooked one minor detail: he had parked his car much too near a bus stop on the boulevard just beyond the building which he intended to rob. As a consequence, when he got back to his car, he found a squadcar waiting for him with its blue light flashing and two officers about to write him a ticket. Al Barker made the mistake of panicking, of trying frantically to explain that it had been an emergency stop. But he simply aroused the suspicion of the two officers, who promptly took him down to the district station where a search revealed the stolen checkbooks.

Accordingly, the next morning, the district commander telephoned the head of the claims department at Beth's company to inform him that they had apprehended a burglar who had been found with checkbooks belonging to the company. Al Barker was charged with burglary and with breaking and entering, and when he was asked how he happened to have a key, he winked and said, "I had a little girl friend, that's all. No need to drag her into this."

But when his home address was found to be the same as Beth Calhoun's, since of course the two were neighbors, the finger of suspicion was pointed at the newest employee of Pimco Casualty-Assurance Company. Summoned to the boss's office, she was confronted with the damning evidence, admitted to knowing Al Barker but frantically protested that she had never in the world thought of giving him a key.

Unhappily, the circumstantial evidence was too much, and poor Beth Calhoun found herself arraigned on the charge of conspiracy to commit grand theft, appeared three days later before a judge in the Criminal Court building on California

Street, and heard herself sentenced to three years in the state reformatory for girls and women, disposition of her person to be made to the new branch at Keston.

The newspapers carried pictures of lovely Beth, as well as her tearful story to the reporters that she was utterly innocent and had been framed. Al Barker, wanting to save his own skin, did not have the decency to clear her or to confess that he had simply filched the key and had a duplicate made. He justified his own conscience by telling himself that after all he hadn't named her and he hadn't told the authorities that she actually helped him by giving him a key. More than that, he saw no reason to do. And the reason for this was, of all things, his sudden quixotic change of mind in the belief that Belle Crandon would stick by him and do more for him than Beth could ever do.

Al himself was sent to the penitentiary at Joliet for a term of from three to five years, and would be eligible for parole in eighteen months. Belle promised to wait for him, but already she was scheming on how to find a man who would take care of her rent at her apartment in the building where poor Beth had lived next door. There was double dealing here, but the only one really to suffer was unfortunate Beth, who had lost not only her cherry but her liberty and reputation and was now disgraced by being an inmate of Keston ... worse than that, menanaced because of her beauty, with a dire fate to which even the judge who sentenced her to

Keston hadn't the slightest notion could possibly exist in a modern penal institution. . .

Beth Calhoun was sobbing softly as she sat, her head bowed, in Alma Burbage's office, with Head Matron Flossie Durkin standing behind the chair and grinning at the superintendent as much as to say, "Here's a real doll, Alma, and are we ever going to have fun with her!"

Alma Burbage considered the lovely dark-brown-haired prisoner, then glanced at the dossier which told of Beth's background, her crime and the sentence. She cleared her throat: "Now then, Calhoun, there's no use carrying on like this. You had a fair trial, I'm sure the judge examined all the evidence, and you just made a mistake, that's all. So face up to it. With good behavior, you might be out of here in nine months-and after all, that's no longer than it takes for a woman to bear a child."

This quip drew a cackle of obscene glee from the sadistic head matron. Alma Burbage shook her head warningly and went on: "Miss Durkin here will give you all the rules and we'll expect you to abide by them, Calhoun. This is your first day here, so you'll go first to the doctor for an examination. Then you'll be put into a kind of isolation ward for two days to make sure that you don't have any communicable diseases. After that you'll come back here for a couple of examinations, which will tell us where you belong and where we can use you effectively. There are some good jobs and training possibilities here for you, and if you apply yourself-and you seem to be an intelligent girl-there shouldn't be any reason you can't go back to society with your debt fully paid and feel like a proper citizen again."

"But it was all a terrible mistake! I never gave him the key, I swear to God I didn't! I've never done anything criminal in my life, and yet here I am in a prison!" Beth sobbed heartbrokenly.

"That's enough of that. I've other people to interview, and I've work to do beside. Take her to Dr. Andrews, Miss Durkin," Alma Burbage concluded as she rose.

Flossie Durkin bent over the chair, a grin of anticipation on her face. Her stubby fingers dug into Beth Calhoun's shoulder as she snarled, "You heard the superintendent! Now get up and get a move on, and get the lead out of that young ass of yours, or you'll feel something else there you won't particularly like. Come along now!"

Still sobbing, Beth Calhoun tried to obey to show at least her docility and her desire to give no trouble. Frankly, it wouldn't have mattered to either Alma Burbage or Flossie Durkin whether this luscious young girl was the most perfectly behaved prisoner in the world; her beauty and desirability, her ingenuous innocence, had whetted their cruel appetites and they had already decided to enjoy her to the fullest.

Floosie Durkin led the unhappy girl down a long corridor and finally stopped by a door on the left which was marked "Dr. Marsha Andrews." She knocked, was told to come in, and opened the door and pushed poor Beth forward. "I'll be waiting for you after you're done, Calhoun," she informed the disconsolate victim of Al Barker's treachery. "Now don't give Doc Andrews any trouble or I'll hear about it, and you'll be on report! A new fish like you better stay out of trouble and not get any demerits, or you might just get a touch of the snake!"

Wonderingly, Beth Calhoun glanced back at that evil, cruel face and echoed, "The s-snake?"

"Oh you'll find out what it is soon enough, if you keep on being stupid, Calhoun," Flossie Durkin snapped. "Doc Andrews is waiting for you, so shut your mouth and do what she tells you to. I'll be outside here waiting for you to take you back to the isolation ward."

As the door closed, the head matron of Keston chuckled again to herself. She was going to have a delicious time with this little bitch. What a nice white skin and dark brown hair and a sweet face the little bitch really had. It was going to be fun getting her to peel down and make her crawl on her knees between Alma's legs and between her own and learn how to gam for dear life or else. Or else the snake, and a few other little devices which Flossie Durkin was dreaming up to use on her helpless prisoners. She was a great believer in enemas, and she had recently read a book which indicated that in some prisons in Europe, where women had been mutinous and rebellious, the ringleaders had been given hot oil enemas and then "figged," using a kind of stopple to hold back the injection, after which they were then strapped onto a whipping horse and then properly spanked and then made to lie there tied and gagged for a full hour before at least being allowed to go to the bathroom. Flossie Durkin had sworn that she would use this method on the very next naughty girl that came her way. She just hoped it would be beautiful Beth Calhoun. . .

"You can start by stripping naked, Calhoun!" Dr. Marsha Andrews snapped as she looked up from her desk and saw the trembling, tearful young brunette standing before her. "In the first place, we're going to give you new clothes, and these will be saved for you until you get through with your sentence. Now be quick about it, I've other prisoners to examine after you, you know. We've got five besides you, and it's already three-thirty in the afternoon. Get with it, Calhoun!"

"Please, Dr. Andrews, won't you help me?"

"What are you talking about, girl? How am I supposed to help you? You're here for two years or is it three-well, long enough so that even if you get a parole, you'll get a taste of what Keston's like. And the first thing you'd better learn right this minute is to obey an order and not to argue or question it and still more not to hesitate when it's given to you. I said, get naked, and I meant just that! Or do you want to have me call Miss Durkin back to help you take off your clothes?"

"Oh no, please don't" Beth Calhoun sobbed. Her eyes blinded with tears, she groped for the hem of her dress and dragged it up and off her body and let it fall to the floor, then the slip, and Dr. Marsha Andrews turned in her swivel chair and her gray-green eyes narrowed with more than casual interest.

Marsha Andrews was thirty, and she was, svelte, auburn-haired, and a dominant Lesbian into the bargain. She too had no love for men, for she had had an uncle who had seduced her when she was only fourteen and then had blatantly told her father that she had tried to seduce him, for which she was forced to strip naked and endure the strap from her father's hand till she nearly fainted. A year later, she had run away, lied about her age, got a job as a waitress in a drive-in near Cairo, and two years later found herself adopted by a kindly and matronly woman who had taken over the ownership of the drive-in after the Greek bachelor owner's death. Marsha had had to fight him off throughout her working there, but she discovered that the new owner was kind and gentle and paid well. So it wasn't long before Marsha discovered that her new employer liked girls and not men.

The woman not only became Marsha's lover and initiatress, but paid for her education through medical school. At twenty six, Marsha Andrews was assigned to a clinic in East St. Louis, and she kept up her amorous liason with her benefactress, even though the latter was nearing forty-five. It didn't take long before she was appointed to Keston, because Alma Burbage herself interviewed several candidates and could tell at once that Marsha Andrews was her own kind.

Although not so cruel as Head Matron Durkin and the other matrons, Marsha Andrews loved wearing dominatress costumes and imposing the whip and shackles on her particular "favorites." Already she could see that lovely Beth Calhoun could be one of these, given a little training and direction. The trouble was, this girl was so deliciously and damnably lovely and so naive that she was likely already to have won the much more powerful favor of Alma or Flossie herself. And Marsha Andrews had no wish to precipitate a political war in Keston. There were plenty of new young girls coming in all the time, and maybe if she lost this girl now, she would get another one.

Beth Calhoun had managed to get off her bra and was now hesitating over the panties. "What's the matter with you, Calhoun? That means shoes and stockings too. I really am exasperated with you, girl! Maybe you need Miss Durkin in here to help you along!"

"Oh please don't call her, I-I'll do what you want-oh I've never been so ashamed in all my life-"

"Now don't start that! I've looked over the papers, and you were just stupid enough to get involved with a loser, that's all. I don't know whether you actually helped him or not, but you deserved everything you got, to my may of thinking. Didn't you know he was a forger and thief and a very unsavory character?"

"No-he made love to me-"

"Stop it. I don't care to hear about your dirty little screwing games, Calhoun," Marsha Andrews grimaced. "Now get on that table on your back, put your knees up, and spread them well apart. Put your hands behind your neck and don't move them until I tell you to."

Then there followed for poor Beth Calhoun the most mortifying of experiences. She felt like a guinea pig upon that examining table, with its cold black leather, and the stern-faced though lovely svelte auburn-haired woman in white medical uniform bending over her, touching her here and there, examining her vagina and her anus, then her breasts, till she began to sob with deepest mortification.

"You're healthy enough. At least you didn't get pregnant, it appears. So much the better for you. Was he your first guy?"

"Why-yes-oh please help me I'm innocent-I didn't give him the key-

"There's no point rehashing all that, Calhoun. You're here, the judge sent you here, and here you'll stay until parole or your time's up, either one or the other. Make up your mind to it. And if you go bawling around Keston, every bitch in the place will have you down as a little crybaby and they'll just love egging you on and laying for you and giving you something to cry about. So will the matrons. Take it from me, keep your mouth shut, do what you're told, and don't say a word about how innocent you were. They're all innocent here. I've got a good deal more respect for a bitch who comes out and says that she goofed and she's going to do her time nice and cool. You'll go a long way if you try that attitude, believe me. All right, you can get down now. I want you to stand with your legs apart and your hands held behind you, open your mouth and say 'Ah'. "

Again Beth Calhoun obeyed, shivering and closing her eyes. Dr. Marsha Andrews poked a dental mirror into her mouth and examined her critically, then tested for adenoids and tonsils, finally her eyes.

"Well, you're a healthy enough specimen, I'll give you that. I don't see any communicable diseases. Ever have chicken pox, measles, whooping cough, or anything like that."

"N-no."

"Call me Dr. Andrews, and don't forget it. And when you're talking to a matron, say 'Yes, Matron.' If you don't, you'll get demerits. And if you get enough demerits, God help you, that nice white skin of yours will get a few marks on it you hadn't counted on."

"What-what do you mean?"

"Simply that around here, Calhoun, they don't waste time giving you lectures or psychology examinations. They'll spank you, that's what I mean."

"But that's unheard of! They can't do that in a prison!"

"Can't they? You'll find out. And you've got a lovely ass on you and skin that's going to mark very nicely from a paddle or a strap, Calhoun. I wouldn't advise you to let the matrons see just how much they can mark you, I really wouldn't. I'm telling you this for your own good. Now then, you can leave."

"Like this?" Beth Calhoun incredulously gasped.

"For God's sake, Calhoun, get some sense into your thick skull! This is a woman's reformatory. There aren't any men her at all. There won't be. And everybody here knows what a woman looks like, especially the matrons. Miss Durkin will take you to the supply depot to get your new uniform and then will take you to the isolation ward. Now get out of here!"

"Yes, Dr. Andrews," Beth Calhoun quavered. Two great tears rolled down her cheeks. She fumbled for the knob of the door and, head bowed, walked out slowly naked as the day she was born. Dr. Marsha Andrews stared after her, and her high-perched pear-shaped titties rose and fell more quickly. "God what I wouldn't give for a roll in bed with that sweet bitch," she murmured huskily. Then, hoisting up her uniform, and lowering her lace-trimmed nylon panties, she began to frig herself furiously, until, with a groan, she felt herself at climax. . .

It was just as well for Beth Calhoun's peace of mind that she didn't see what was happening to Cassie Vernon, a plump, nineteen-year-old taffy--.-haired "new fish" who had been sentenced to Keston for two years for possession of marijuana and for running around with a few questionable male characters who had already been rounded up in a burglary ring. Although Cassie had been cleared of complicity in the burglaries, the possession of narcotics was enough to send her to the reformatory. And what she missed most was her steady boyfriend, Ben Killigrow, a burly, lack-haired young tough from Chicago's West Side who had been the best cocksmith Cassie had ever encountered, and she had been fucking since she was sixteen.

Cassie had resented the way Matron Mabel Murton had pushed her around while taking her to Dr. Marsha Andrews. She had wrenched her arm away from Mabel Burton's grasp and snarled, "You don't hafta break my arm, you know!"

"Why, you uppity little bitch, you watch your tongue!" stocky mousy-brown-haired forty-year-old Mabel Burton had angrily countered. "You're off to a great start, Cassie, and you're going to get a demerit for talking back and sassing me that way!"

"Up yours!" Cassie had sneered. "I can walk by myself, thanks."

"That's two demerits, bitch!" Mabel Burton had grinned sadistically and again grabbed hold of Cassie's arm. But the taffy-haired blonde uttered a cry, again dragged herself free of the matron's grasp and slapped her in the face. A moment later, she was regretting her impetuous action. Mabel

Burton uttered the snarl of a wild beast at bay, clenched her fist and struck Cassie in the jaw, felling her to the floor. Then she stooped over the whimpering girl, dragged her up by the hair and, one hand at the scruff of Cassie's neck, quick-marched the sobbing, struggling plump young blonde down to the "meditation room," bringing up her right knee from time to time to bang against Cassie's opulent rounded ass.

Once inside the room, Mable Burton solicited the aid of Clara Henshaw, who was only too glad to come to her friend's help, especially as it concerned the punishment of a most attractive and rebellious "new fish." In a few moments, Cassie found herself stripped naked, tied over the sawhorse whose sharp ridge at once pressed into her hairy cunt, her body tightly drawn and her big round pale white bottom-cheeks presented for a sound thrashing.

"Now then, Cassie, we're going to start you off right on your first day at Keston," Clara Henshaw declared as Mabel Burton immediately pulled up her uniform and slip, revealing her own even more hairy cunt. "I'm going to whip ass until you say you're sorry to Mabel here and do it the way she likes best-by gamming her!"

"You go to hell, you bitches!" Cassie wailed. "You've got no right to do this, you've got no right! I'd never do that, I go for boys, not for fat old dirty dames like that!"

"Make her take that back, Clara darling," Mabel Burton cooed, a vicious light glinting in her eyes. "That big ass can use the paddle and take plenty of it."

"It sure can," Clara Henshaw agreed.

Taking down an over-shaped leather paddle from a hook on the wall from the lengthy and terrifying array of fustigatory implements, gray-haired Clara Henshaw lifted it high and brought it down with a loud whack across the ripest curves of both Cassie's jutting naked ass-cheeks. The young taffy-haired blonde yelled out in pain and struggled, but her struggles only rubbed the cruel ridge against her tender cunt and chafed her cruelly.

A second blow fell and then a third, all three spanks being administered to the plumpest curves of the summits. The angry red blotch left by the paddle stood out violently against Cassie's pale white skin.

"That's just a taste, you little slut," Clara Henshaw hissed. "I'm going to give you forty. Nobody fish like you, bitch! And a hophead to boot! I'll at Keston raises a hand to a matron, least of all new make her gam you, darling, you watch and see!"

Thereupon the vicious gray-haired matron resumed the paddling. Slowly, expertly, she flattened each of Cassie's bottom-cheeks with alternate swipes of the leather instrument. First the right globe and then the left, starting at the tops of the girl's hips, and working down to the base. Then she shifted after about a dozen blows and landed them diagonally, bridging the crease which was quite deep and lasciviously shadowy, which separated that voluptuous big naked ass. By then Cassie was screaming and pleading for mercy, but Mabel Burton and Clara Henshaw couldn't hear a word. Not until the fortieth spank had landed, leaving poor Cassie's bottom violently swollen and angrily darkened, did she at last lower the paddle while the hysterical and naked captive writhed and twisted, babbling incoherent pleas for mercy and swearing that she was going to die if they didn't stop.

"I'm going to start all over again at forty, Cassie, unless you start on Mabel there," Clara Henshaw gloatingly announced. She laid the paddle over the base of those swollen ass-cheeks and patted it gently. "Get ready!" "Awwrrr-oh God, oh for God's sake, don't, I'll do it, just don't swat me anymore, oh my hind end is burning up, you're killing me-I'll do it!" Cassie shrieked. And as Mabel Burton approached and rubbed her shaggy muff against the girl's panting lips, the conquered "new fish" began to gamahuch the sadistic matron while Clara Henshaw from time to time applied a capricious little swat of the paddle on that blazing bottom just to show the unfortunate girl who was boss....

This then, was the regimen of discipline imposed on the attractive victims who were sent to this penal institution by those authorities who had no knowledge of what was going on behind its walls!