Pentonbridge Pig

Chapter 24. Integration

The blazing heat of the day turned into the cool of twilight as the inmates of D-wing tirelessly worked the field. Bucket after bucket was deposited at the mound on the field's periphery, the pile of debris growing noticeably larger as the day progressed. Emily looked ahead as the call to cease work was bellowed across the field. The barren wasteland of sun-baked earth stretched before her. It seemed, to the exhausted girl, as if they had not moved an inch, and yet the wagon was a good thirty yards behind her.

The aching, naked girl picked up her near-full bucket and trudged back towards the waiting guard. She knew that her role had not finished, as she would soon be emptying each inmates bucket. She had been ordered to do so yesterday, and as she was the lowest bitch on D-wing, her fate as the servant to the other prisoners was set in stone.

"Harness up bitches," commanded Guard Lee from her perch atop the wagon. The rifle that scared her by its mere presence, sat cradled in the guard's arms, looking to Emily like a favoured pet. She could see the vicious whip hanging on a hook at the side of the chair, coiled like a deadly viper. She shivered, almost able to feel its sting.

"Pig you dopey bitch, get up here and dispense the harnesses to these bitches. Or do you feel that you are better than the rest of these dumb fucks?"

"No Guard Lee Ma'am, sorry Ma'am," Emily croaked, fearing she had made yet another costly mistake. How fucking stupid could one bitch be, she chastised.

"I am not interested in your apologies pig. An inmate performs as it is required. I am interested in each inmate conducting the tasks set them and that each inmate knows its place. Well, pig?"

"This bitch knows her place Guard Lee Ma'am," Emily replied as she began handing the harnesses to the waiting inmates.

"Well?"

"I am the lowest bitch on D-wing Guard Lee Ma'am," croaked Emily, willing herself not to cry.

"By a large margin pig. These other bitches are the scum of society and you make them look like Mother Theresa. I know you will not be familiar with the name pig, she is not a porn star or famous whore, but understand that she was a woman of repute, a woman who worked to improve society. Again not a concept you will have much affinity with, but by the time your sentence is served you will."

Emily had finished handing out the harnesses as the guard ended her soliloquy, the longest speech she had heard from the imposing woman in two whole days. She collected her own harness and strapped it tightly around her waist, cinching it in to the third punched hole, knowing that it was the only way it would stay around her tiny waist, despite the discomfort it would cause. She slipped her hands in the cuffs and hurried to her position on the yolk.

"Pig, you really are a trying bitch. Get that smelly cunt over here. Yes pig, anyone in a 20 yard radius can't help but be disgusted by your offensive stench."

Emily's face flushed with an intense heat. She had been able to smell her arousal all day, but she had hoped that the musky odour was not so strong as to be detected by anyone else. Had her fellow inmates been able to smell her pussy the entire day? She was mortified at the thought. Her lack of clothing, her naked body on display for any that cared to look, was humiliating enough. She was sure that no one would ever believe she wasn't some kind of perverted slut now.

Guard Lee quickly tightened the cuffs around her wrists, two practised movements securing her to the tight belt that painfully encircled her waist. "Hurry up and empty those buckets pig."

Emily hung her head in defeat for the briefest of moments before hurrying forward to collect the first bucket. Her hands were now cuffed to the sides of the belt, forcing her to bend down and snatch each bucket with only one hand. The thin wire handle dug into the soft flesh of her fingers as she lifted the first half-empty bucket from the ground.

Her first step was awkward as the weight of the bucket pulled her to the right. She didn't have the strength in her small arms to take the weight of the half empty bucket and the harness cinched so severely around her waist dug cruelly into her hipbone. She moved haltingly toward another bucket, knowing that she needed to balance the heavy load.

Now with a bucket in each hand, the pain of the thin wire handles biting into her delicate palms, she moved off across the field. With each step the metal containers bumped painfully against her thighs. Great, she thought, now I will have bruises on the outside of my legs as well. The bruising she had sustained in room 303 had deepened throughout the day, her inner thighs now marked by vicious purple blemishes, turning to black towards the centre of each.

Emily stood, finally, before Guard Lee, not knowing quite how she had managed to carry all 18 buckets to the debris mound at the edge of the field. Her chest heaved with the exertion and rivulets of sweat ran down her body. She could see the other inmates already harnessed and a nervous tension overtook the young girl as she feared she had in some way failed.

"This bitch has collected 18 buckets Guard Lee Ma'am," Emily croaked, her mouth as dry as it had been that morning. She had almost given up as she struggled to heave the buckets onto the tray. The harness provided very little movement and she had to swing a few up at a time, all the while acutely aware of the judgemental gaze of the guard.

"In position lazy pig," ordered Guard Lee, quickly fastening Emily's harness to the crossbar. "Right bitches, now that this bitch has finally graced us with its presence you better move those fat asses if you want to make curfew. Bitches, move out."

The bellowed order was followed by the crack of the whip which fell across the shoulders of Emily's neighbour. The hard woman grunted as the blow landed. She looked at Emily, her jaw tightening but she held her tongue. Emily swallowed hard and leaned into the harness with all her might. She was the cause of the delay and she knew she would pay if punishment was the ultimate result. It wasn't fair though. She had so many extra duties and she was supposed to get them all done in the same time! Yeah well, life isn't fair dumbass. If it was do you think you would be here, naked, wearing a fucking chastity belt and the object of abuse for every single thing she did, and a whole hell of a lot she didn’t. Shit, it was a wonder she didn't get in trouble for breathing wrong.

The wagon moved slowly at first, despite the focused effort of all eighteen prisoners. They all knew what missing curfew meant, all but Emily and she didn't need to be a genius to figure it out. Once the momentum had been established, however, the wagon began to roll across the field with speed. By the time they reached the dirt road, Emily was jogging in time with her fellow inmates, all working together for a common goal.

The moment they had straightened up on the roadway, as if at an unheard and unseen signal, each inmate sped up. Emily had already been struggling but now she ran as fast as she could, her mouth wide open to suck in each laboured breath. Her breasts bounced around her chest in a chaotic rhythm. The naked girl prayed once again for any kind of clothing with which to not only cover her nakedness but to subdue her unruly globes. She hated the feeling of her breasts moving, jouncing from side to side with the heavy, exhausted fall of her feet. It made her feel like a slut, like some whore showing off her tits, like those sluts you saw at the beach, walking so sexily, swinging their hips to make their breasts sway.

Until she met Josh, and had given in to his requests, she had always favoured a one-piece. She didn't need the tan and she sure didn’t need every pervert on the beach ogling her. But this, this wanton display that she could do nothing about, made her feel vulnerable and small but angry at the same time. Why was she always the focus of the guard's abuse? It was a question to which she desperately wanted an answer, but she was not destined to discover it this day. The women around her began to slow down, gently bringing the cart to a halt. She had been so focused on her running, so preoccupied by her internal monologue, that she had not realised they had already reached the prison.

Her chest heaved, her nipples strangely erect, though she knew it often happened with exercise. What did she expect anyway, her tits flopping around like that. As she shuffled in her harness, performing the complex manoeuvre to reverse the wagon into the open garage, she willed her nipples to go down. She knew the cause of the small pink buds stiffening, but she knew someone would find some way to use it against her.

What was she supposed to do when her own body worked against her? The constant daydreams, which almost all contained sex in some way. Why wasn't she fantasising about escaping from this fucking pit? Or how about getting even with these sadistic bitches when she was released? She would find a way, she would not forget a thing.

"Well bitches, proof positive that you are a bunch of lazy fucks. I expect that to be the new benchmark. I ought to retrospectively dock you a day for each instance you travelled that route in less time," chastised Guard Lee as she removed each inmate from the wagon, loosening their cuffs.

The moment Emily's hands were released she slipped her wrists out of the leather cuffs and frantically pulled at her harness. She needed to be quick. She not only needed to get her own harness off but she had to collect and return all 18. She could tell by the looks she was receiving that she had already earned the ire of each and every woman on D-wing. The moment she had her harness off she stood with arms outstretched to receive the belts from her fellow inmates. If looks could kill she would have been six feet under a dozen times over. The large black woman, who had for some inexplicable reason already become her enemy, slapped her harness across Emily's arms, causing the young girl to yelp. It was more from surprise than pain but the delicate skin of her forearms stung with the blow.

"Pig, stop fucking around," snapped Guard Lee, her attention attracted by the naked girl's exclamation.

Emily lowered her gaze demurely, not able to find the strength to look any of the women in the eye. It was hard enough that she caused herself pain and hardship through her stupidity and just plain inability to do anything right, but to be the source of that pain and that discomfort in others was a burden she was having difficulty shouldering. And yet, she was better than these women, better than all of them. It wasn’t right that she was afraid of what they thought of her.

"Pig, get that ugly fat ass inside."

Emily's head shot up as the shrill voice echoed around the open garage. Her stomach twisted into a tight knot as she spotted Jennings lounging against the open doorway. The other inmates were moving to form one long line and she had been left holding the harnesses. She quickly hurried over to take her place at the end of the line before she realised her mistake.

"Pig you snotnosed fuckwit. Are you trying to steal those?" snarled Jennings, advancing on the trembling girl.

"No Guard Jennings Ma'am," Emily stammered fearfully.

"A liar and a thief. Put them back. Fucking hurry it up shitlick."

Emily ran to the far wall and flung the mass of harnesses over the hook. She scurried back and dutifully stood at attention at the end of the line, the place she was destined to occupy for the duration of her sentence.

"Right you dense cunt, five strokes for disobedience. Go and get them," Jennings hissed. "516 five strokes for insubordination. You shuffle those fucking feet again and it will double."

Emily tried her best to bite back the tears, but the sudden appearance of Jennings had caught her off-balance. The sadistic guard had an effect on Emily that penetrated to her core. She could not do anything right around her. If there was one person who could find fault with the way she breathed it was Jennings. No matter how careful she was, humiliation followed Guard Jennings like a cruel aura.

"Now cuntlips, do it properly. Being as thick as shit doesn't mean you can get away with not following procedure."

Emily stood before the guard, her arms full of the thick leather harnesses, completely confused. Her brain just wasn't working. The tears she had fought so hard to contain now spilled from her pretty green eyes. It was only as she saw Jennings's mouth open to begin another tirade that she suddenly remembered what she had failed to do.

"This bitch has collected 18 harnesses Guard Jennings Ma'am," she said hurriedly, almost stumbling over the words in her rush to make herself heard.

"Fucking bitch is right, pig. You identify with that don't you?"

"Yes Guard Jennings Ma'am," Emily replied obediently, knowing that to voice any contradiction would be a mistake she would pay for dearly.

"Well pig, tell me why?"

"Um I am a bitch because-" Emily began, her thoughts tapering off as she fought the humiliation that blanketed her. "I am a bitch because..."

"So, you are so fucking stupid that you know you’re a bitch, but you don't know why?" enquired Guard Jennings with mock incredulity. "Or is it because there are so many reasons that that tiny peabrain you have rolling around inside your skull  can't put them in order."

Emily winced as the guard rapped her on the side of the head with her knuckles as she spoke. What could she do? She had two choices, both of which she meant she had to degrade herself. Would she have to choose or would Jennings do it for her? Could she afford to remain silent?

"I am such a stupid bitch that I don't know why Guard Jennings Ma'am," Emily replied meekly, choosing the option that seemed less fraught with danger.

"Well pig, I know I’ve clipped toenails more intelligent than you but I think you are playing games. Are you playing games with me pig? I assure you, that I will win each and every time that you try. Now I had better have five reasons why you are a bitch and you had better be quick. The stink from these other cunts is making me sick, though they got nothing on you pig. I could smell that slimy cunny the moment I stepped in the room."

Emily's shoulders shuddered as she was wracked by the first sobs. She knew now that she had no real choice. Whatever she had said would have been wrong. Whatever she did would not be good enough. The young, naked girl gulped noisily and began the demeaning description of her character.

"Guard Jennings Ma'am, I am a bitch because I am disobedient and because I cause problems for my superiors. I am a-"

"Wrong turd, your disobedience causes problems for everyone, that is only one reason. Hurry up."

"Um Guard Jennings Ma'am," Emily continued, sniffing back the mucus running from her nose," I am a bitch because I am selfish."

"How?"

"Um... Guard Jennings Ma'am, I am selfish because..." Emily floundered.

"Five strokes for insubordination pig. You are deliberately wasting everyone's time. You had better spend less time thinking about dogs fucking your ass and more on what you are. Next time I shall not be so lenient. Now take those harnesses back. The rest of you cunts get inside."

The tears flowed freely down Emily's cheeks as she hurried back to the wall. She all but threw the thick leather belts on the hook in her haste to be finished and be safely inside the prison.

"Listen you worthless shitstain. Put those fucking harnesses back properly or... Right five strokes pig, insubordination," Guard Jennings said into her lapel mic. "Now you little creep. There are two hooks, do you see that, two. It’s the same number of brain cells you have active inside that fat head of yours.

"Nine harnesses are to be placed on each hook, that is nine pig. No doubt the number of men you have gangbanged at the same time. So easy to remember. Now just to make sure you won't waste my time further, tell me what you are going to do," said the guard, leaning in close to the anxious, weeping girl.

"I am," Emily began.

"Are you really that fucking stupid pig?" bellowed Guard Jennings directly into the trembling girl’s ear.

"This bitch," Emily started again meekly, the fear evident in her quavering voice, "is going to put nine harnesses on each of the two hooks Guard Jennings Ma'am."

"And how is a dense turd like you going to remember those numbers?"

"This bitch will remember the numbers because two is like the brain cells I have and nine is like... is like," Emily hesitated, reticent to degrade herself for the obvious pleasure of the sadistic guard, but, knowing that the alternative was much worse she continued. "Nine is the number of men I have gangbanged at the same time Guard Jennings Ma'am."

"And when you had this gangbang where did these men shove their cocks?" snarled Jennings.

"Um in my," stammered Emily, her resolution faltering under the weight of humiliation.

"Talk properly pig, you have been assigned an approved mode so use it," snapped Jennings.

"Um, the men put their cocks in this bitch's pussy Guard Jennings Ma'am,' Emily finally relented, tasting her salty tears as she demeaned herself before the cruel guard.

"And?"

"And in this bitch's mouth Guard Jennings Ma'am," Emily said softly, her head hung in shame.

"And?"

"And in this-"

"Pig, you don't begin speaking with a conjunction, and speak in full sentences, you're not sucking cock in the ghetto now," snarled Jennings, clearly enjoying the discomfort the naked girl exhibited.

"Guard Jennings Ma'am, at the gangbang the men would put their cocks in this bitch's pussy and mouth and ass," Emily whispered, her voice all but lost in the large garage.

"Enough about your disgusting life pig, we don't have all night. Get those back and get inside."

Emily blinked the tears from her red, blurry eyes and ran to the wall to deposit the harnesses. She quickly counted nine for each hook, her shoulders rocked by fresh sobs as she did so. The simple task of returning a few belts had been turned into a chance to make her feel worthless, a chance that Jennings had exploited to the full. She had no chance to get through a day without incident as long as Jennings was around. Mailer was bad enough thought Emily, her anguish turning into anger as she thought of the humiliation she had been forced to become a part of. She knew the vicious guard was toying with her but it did not make the desolation she felt any easier to bear.

Jennings hurried the naked girl into the prison with a well-placed swipe of her shock baton. She was gratified by the girlish squeal Emily produced as the hard plastic rod smacked into her bare buttock, its soft flesh already marked so deliciously from the previous day's punishment. Emily soon found herself outside D-wing's shower block, unable to relay the route along which she had just come. She was operating almost in a daze, her tear-blurred vision not helping. She could hear the soft splashing of the showers, her fellow inmates already well into their evening cleanliness routine.

"Boots off, then get in there pig. I, for one, am sick of your stench," sneered Jennings, before she joined the other guards by the entrance.

Emily removed her filthy boots and socks in record time, storing them underneath her cubby hole. She retrieved her small hard-bristled brush and rushed into the showers. She tried to find an empty space amid the moving sea of naked, glistening flesh, doing her best to ignore the other women but as she reached for some soap her arm brushed the large fleshy globe of a woman's breast. She immediately retracted her arm as if stung. She did not want to be accused of fondling another inmate but the showers were a minefield of bared female flesh. Everywhere she turned she was confronted by swaying breasts, shapely thighs and the shining curves of firm buttocks.

The woman whom she touched looked at her briefly before going back to forcing the hard brush across her body. Emily quickly lathered the soap on her own small brush and began to clean her own aching form. The first touch of the prickly bristles was a tentative one. She knew the pain she was about to cause herself but she also knew that it had to be done. She was already behind and she was desperate not to be the cause of any further delays.

Emily gasped as she forced the sharp bristles into her delicate skin and began to scrub. In moments her flesh was a gleaming pink, radiating heat not only from the warm water of the showers but from the freshly scrubbed flesh itself. She winced as she scrubbed the brush under her arms, fighting back the urge to skip the tender flesh. Her armpits were only part of her problem. The musky aroma of her sex was still evident and with the infernal chastity belt covering her, not allowing any access to her private parts, she was unsure just how she was going to be able to get totally clean.

Emily gasped as her head was suddenly wrenched painfully backwards. A second hand snaked across her mouth as her hair was twisted viciously. She was frogmarched to the back of the shower block and surrounded by four women, the harsh white lights causing their hard muscled bodies to glisten under the soft spray.

The large black woman she knew as 47 stood before her menacingly. Emily trembled as the woman stepped towards her, the large ebony breasts swaying with the movement. Before she knew what was happening each of her nipples was seized and twisted viciously. She squirmed as best she could but her arms were held firmly behind her back. There was nothing she could do as she was molested by this pack of snarling harpies.

"Listen and listen good pig. You are mine, you got that. Next time we shower you come straight back to this corner. You don’t come, you get hurt. And if you ever pull that stunt again, if you ever get me to break curfew, you get hurt. Those 303 fucks ain’t got nothing on me."

As quickly as she had been seized, Emily found herself on her own, huddling in the corner, her hands cupping her abused breasts. Her nipples burned as if they had been held to a flame and she was gasping for breath as if she had just run a marathon.

The entire time she was alone with a guard she had wished to be amongst the other inmates of her wing, yet there was no solace to be found here. What did she have to look forward to now? Was being the plaything of a resident gang lesbian rapists any worse than the treatment she received at the hands of the guards? But these were women in the same situation as her, how could they do that to another inmate?

Emily laughed at her own naivete. Boy Em, she admonished, you may just be as dumb as they say. Of course these women are capable of such abuse, hell they are probably capable of anything. After all they are here for a reason, on D-wing for a reason. They can't all have pissed off a prominent person as she had. She was reminded once again that she didn’t deserve to be here. Not at Pentonbridge and not on D-wing. For the next two years, and gods knows how much longer, she would be keeping company with these women. She needed to find some way to placate them. The very thought of the ways in which she could accomplish that made her shiver. She had never had a lesbian encounter but she knew this would not last much longer.

"Pig, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?" bellowed Guard Jennings from the entrance to the shower block.

Emily snatched her hands away from her breasts like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Her cheeks flushed as she realised she had been gently kneading her nipples to try and remove the pain the cruel pinching and twisting had caused. She had no illusions as to how her actions would be perceived.

"Pig what is the first type of class B infraction?" enquired Jennings, her lip curling in disdain.

"I don't know Guard Jennings Ma'am," Emily croaked.

"Five strokes, insubordination class C. Pig, touching the intimate parts of oneself or another person for the purpose of sexual gratification. I am going to recommend that your ablutions be overseen by staff. You clearly cannot be trusted."

Emily stood downcast as the other inmates filed out of the shower around her, their bodies pink and gleaming. She had only managed to clean her upper body. The areas around the chastity belt were not clean. She started to panic, sure that an inspection would be called and find her dirty.

"Get that smelly snatch over here," snarled Jennings as she removed the cross-shaped key that would open the hard plastic belt covering the young girl's sex. "Attention you slovenly scrag.'

Emily straightened up as the key was slotted into the front of her chastity belt. A loud click echoed through the now empty shower block and Emily felt the vertical panel that cupped her sex come away from her skin.

"Turn around pig. Fuck me, you’re a tiresome cunt. It’s a wonder no one needs to tell you to breath in and breath out constantly," derided Jennings as she unlocked the back of the chastity belt, lifting away the vertical panel. The belt was still snugly secured around her waist but her sex was free and the frustrating anal ring no longer stretched her anus.

"Eww, you filthy bitch," spat Jennings as she exposed the young girl's pussy. Fucking hell, you weren't hiding a can of cream in that snatch were you pig, because it looks like it exploded. Fucking nasty is what it is. Get over here, heels to the berm. Bend over."

Emily shuffled backwards until her heels hit the small raised lip that separated the showers from the rest of the room. She bent forward obediently, lowering her head below her knees. She looked between her legs and saw Guard Jennings attach a chain to her collar and then to a ring set into the side of the raised edge. She could not raise herself up and her thighs began to burn almost immediately. It was a constant balancing act to keep herself from falling over, though she managed to keep her hands clasped loosely behind her back.

Emily knew what was to come and her heart almost burst from her chest as she waited for the sharp bristles of the brush to prick the delicate silky folds of her sex. She knew she needed to be clean but she did not want anyone else to do it, least of all Jennings who she knew would make it the most painful and undesirable experience that she could.

The young girl did not have long to wait. She had kept watch between her legs and saw Jennings approach with a long cylindrical brush. The white bristles were an inch long, protruding from all sides of the wicked looking brush. Frightened as she was, she did not fail to notice that the guard wore elbow length gloves and carried a small bucket in her other hand.

Emily yelped as, without a word, Jennings brought the brush into contact with her pussy, scraping the harsh spines the length of her silky cleft. Her hands twisted as the brush scrubbed her pussy mercilessly. Every few moments Jennings would dip the brush into the bucket at her feet and go back to scrubbing the tender flesh between the gasping girl’s legs. The astringent smell of the liquid assaulted Emily's nostrils a moment before the intense stinging pain began. It felt like someone was pricking needles into the soft folds of her labia and she grunted and moaned with each fresh motion.

"Shut the fuck up pig. No one cares that you want to live like a filthy skank. For fuck’s sake you would put some of those trailerpark whores to shame. You will be clean and you will remain clean. Having your crusty cunt oozing filth is no longer an option."

As she spoke, Jennings dipped the brush once again and moved to the exposed anus. She scrubbed the tight pink bud mercilessly. Emily kept her mouth shut but could not prevent painful grunts from escaping her firmly clenched lips. She tightened the muscles of her sphincter trying desperately to expose the smallest possible area to the vicious attentions of the guard.

"Ha you stupid whore. You won't be so keen to have your cunt stuffed in a minute."

Emily grit her teeth as she realised that the movement of her sphincter muscles and the terribly vulnerable, bent position had made it seem like her pussy had opened. Her puffy red eyes filled with tears as she realised that no matter what she did, she simply fuelled the fires of degradation. She screamed suddenly, twisting her body forward until the chain at her collar pulled taut. Her arms flew forward and prevented her from falling to the floor but she lowered her ass instinctively. Pain exploded in her pussy as the sharp bristled brush was forced inside in one swift motion. Her ass came close to the floor and the agony doubled, sharp pain shooting up into her chest. The brush had remained in her pussy and as she lowered to the floor, the long handle had bumped against the tiled surface, rammed the wicked object further inside her.

"Stand up straight pig. You can try fucking that all night if you want but I guarantee you won't get much pleasure from it," Jennings chuckled. "You move again, you earn an infraction. You are already late and any more fucking around and you can go straight to your cell."

Emily didn't know how, but she managed to stay standing as Guard Jennings twisted the brush inside her vagina causing the stiff bristles to prick and prod the soft pink walls of her sex. The ordeal lasted only a few more moments but they seemed the longest of her life. She grunted explosively as the brush was removed in one quick motion, her legs almost buckling with the pain.

"Dry yourself," snapped Jennings.

Emily felt the towel land on her back and she reached for it, immediately drying her body. The rough fibres of the towel were uncomfortable but they felt luxurious after the painful brush. When it came to drying her sex and ass she dabbed gently at the abused flesh, fearful of doing any more damage. Her collar was released from the ring and she stood up, remembering, even through the pain and humiliation, to stand at attention. Her pussy and ass burned and it was all she could do not to squirm. The delicate folds of her sex were on fire, the abrasive disinfectant searing the sensitive skin.

The short length of chain hung from her collar and rested between her breasts, its cold presence a reminder that at any moment even the luxury, the small freedom of being able to move under her own volition could be taken away at the mere whim of her superiors. She was not just in a prison, she had not just lost the freedom to live her life but she had lost total control. She was completely at the mercy of the staff of Pentonbridge. It was a sobering thought that kept Emily from moving, no matter how badly her body screamed at her to do so.

"Here pig," Jennings commanded, removing the small chain before slapping Emily's face with a quick darting motion.

The sharp blow brought tears to the naked girl's eyes. Though she had not been struck hard, the surprise of the blow and the fact that this woman could assault her so casually, as if such an abuse was expected, shocked Emily.

"I tire of your antics pig. You are here to work and obey the rules. You are not here to indulge your perversions. Any more shit on my shift and you will spend the night in the yard. You got that?"

"Yes Guard Jennings Ma'am," Emily replied meekly.

She stood by as her chastity belt was reattached. The hard plastic panel slid between her legs and rammed painfully home. Jennings did not have the finesse of the doctor. Her sex was once again cupped tightly by the snug fitting brace. Her ID tag dug uncomfortably into her labia and as she followed the guard out of the shower block she felt it settle against the opening of her pussy.

If she was unable to shift the tag, the small sliver of metal would become more annoying and uncomfortable than the anal ring, which had again placed a deal of stress upon her tight pink rosette.

She was led through the wing, towards the commissary where she would hopefully be able to consume the evening meal. She was starving, after having been denied the midday bowl of gruel. She knew that she could expect nothing more than a small amount of the bland slop but right now it was all that she wanted. Her only desire was to spoon the disgusting goop to her mouth and fill her belly.

The hushed sound of spoon scraping on bowl and bowl on table heralded the proximity of the commissary. It was a strange sight that met the young naked girl. The large room was filled with seated women, silently eating, each prisoner focused only on the meal in front them. Until Emily appeared in the doorway, her naked body glistening and pink after the recent cleaning.

Almost every head in the room turned towards her, drinking in the soft lithe beauty that was on display. The exposed girl flushed furiously, the heat in her cheeks burning with an intensity to match the still present fire in her loins. Every inmate in the room, including those from D-wing who were still waiting in line to be served, was dressed in the standard issue prison jumpsuit. Every single inmate except her. Emily was near to breaking. The humiliation overwhelmed her and she was on the verge of running down the corridor, the consequences be damned. She could feel the hungry gaze of these women, these criminals, like a physical force.

She had never felt more vulnerable, more exposed in all her life, and the feeling left her nauseous. The fact that her sex was hidden, securely covered by the chastity belt only deepened the degradation she felt. It marked her as a pervert, providing credence to the disgusting rumours that had no doubt swept the prison like wildfire.

Panic and paranoia had begun to take hold of the demoralised girl. She was prevented from putting her plan into action, earning herself a slew of infractions, when she was prodded forcefully in the back, the rounded tip of the shock baton pushing roughly between her shoulders.

"Stop showing off pig. You won't ever get close enough to these gen pop douches to corrupt them so you can forget it right now," snapped Jennings. "Get behind those other D-wing slags."

Emily hurried forward, her head downcast. She was shamed by her nudity, and embarrassed even more deeply by the demeaning cast that had been given to her momentary hesitation. Many of the women seated around the entrance had heard the comments and she had seen the looks they had prompted. The line shuffled forward slowly as each inmate was issued the ubiquitous metal bowl and plastic scoop. The occupants of D-wing were to be served last, and as the inmate with the lowest status, she formed the rear-guard of that subset. She was the lowest of the low, a position she knew she would occupy for the remainder of her sentence, a position she had come to expect.

After what seemed an eternity of slow shuffling and stomach grumbling, she received her bowl and scoop. Behind the counter were two inmates whose duty it was to dispense the food and utensils. Each woman wore a device strapped around her head that completely covered the lower half of the face. Emily knew now, from her recent experience in room 303, that these infernal contraptions were gags, no doubt a hidden insert filled the mouths of the two suffering women.

They worked diligently, their focus on the task they had been set, the gag not seeming to bother them. Emily glanced a third inmate further back in the kitchen, dressed in jumpsuit, gag and hairnet. Were the gags to stop the women eating food they had not been issued? Surely with the discipline at Pentonbridge this would not be a problem. It was, however, not her place to comment on the running of the prison and she turned her focus to her more immediate concerns.

A single ladle of the gruel was slopped into her bowl. The ugly grey matter sat in the metal container, looking for all the world like a pile of pulped newspaper. Emily had never seen anything less appetising but right now she didn’t care what it looked like or what it tasted like, she wanted it inside her.

Following the other women from D-wing she took her place at a table near the door, seating herself on the small plastic stool that was bolted to the floor. The hard plastic of the chastity belt clicked against the stool, causing heads to raise and swivel in her direction. Emily shifted once but knew she would not be able to find any comfort on the stool, not while the chastity belt was secured around her waist. The pressure of sitting pushed it further into her skin, causing her tag to dig painfully into her pussy. She tried to ignore the pain and set to her bowl with hunger.

Each scoop of the thin gruel calmed her. Despite the awful mixture she was eating this was something normal she could do. For the first time in a long time she felt like an actual person. She glanced up between spoonfuls and noticed, sat directly across from her was the ebony Amazon, her steely gaze catching and holding Emily's timid glance. The anxious young girl watched as 47 ran her tongue around the scoop she had brought to her mouth, sensuously dipping into the thin gruel in a lascivious display. Emily blushed and looked back at her meal, furiously spooning the food to her own mouth.

She did not need to guess at the implication of the gesture, she knew all too well what it foretold. Not only was she to be used and abused by the staff at Pentonbridge but it was all too clear that she was also destined to become the plaything, the sexual toy, of her fellow prisoners. She didn't know which was worse. What she did know, however, was that if she was caught the blame would fall solely on her. She could be raped or worse, forced to perform acts she had never even fantasised could happen and she would be the one who was marked as the instigator.

Emily was startled as the women around her got to their feet and carried their bowls almost robotically back to the front of the room. She frantically scraped the last remnants of her gruel from the bowl before she too joined the long line of women, returning their empty bowls. She did not know what was happening, what the proper procedure was. This was her first time eating a meal with other people and she took her cues from the other prisoners, following their lead to the smallest detail.

The room had remained eerily silent throughout the meal, the stillness broken only by the odd scraping of a bowl or the soft shuffling of feet. There were perhaps 200 women in the large room and not one had spoken so much as a whisper. That had to be a world record or something, she joked, amazed at her ability to make light of a such a situation. The women were not silent by choice, they remained mute through fear and obedience. There was nothing funny about it. The kitchen workers were already hard at work washing the dishes when Emily arrived at the counter. She wondered absently when they would have a chance to eat.

The silence endured as the women were escorted back to D-wing. Emily walked at the rear of the line, Guard Jennings ghosting her every step. Her belly felt only marginally more full but it was a start. Despite the constant frustration of the chastity belt she felt more comfortable than she had all day. Her appetite was somewhat satiated, she was clean and the strong odour of her arousal no longer wafted around her like a potent sexual miasma. She was still naked but you couldn't have everything, she mused. The burning in her pussy had been reduced to a slow burn and the fear that she had been permanently damaged by the caustic cleaning agent had subsided long ago.

"Ten minutes, evening ablutions. Guard Parkes will oversee permissions," bellowed Jennings, the unexpected outburst causing Emily to jump.

A line immediately formed in front of the mousy woman. Emily went to the end of the line but was constantly forced back as more women sought to request permission. Demoralised, Emily stood at attention and waited her turn. She needed to pee but the way things were going she wondered if she would ever get the chance.

Four women had moved straight to brushing their teeth and Emily now wished she had joined them. Could she switch now? Would she get into trouble? She decided it was best to stay put, knowing that she may run out of time. She waited as each inmate asked for permission to use the toilet. Minutes ticked away as inmate after inmate stepped forward, asked permission and waited until an answer was forthcoming. It would take the guard a few moments of consulting a clipboard before she responded to each request.

After what felt like an hour Emily had finally made it to the front of the line. As she was about to step forward, two women, finished with their brushing, cut in front of her. Emily's mouth opened instinctively, but closed as quickly as she realised how foolish a course of action that was. Not only did she not have permission to speak but she had no right to. It was her place to wait.

"Pig requesting permission to urinate at evening ablutions Guard Parkes Ma'am," Emily intoned, mimicing the inmates who had gone before.

"Pig, you have been getting yourself in trouble I hear," Parkes said conversationally.

"Yes Guard Parkes Ma'am," Emily replied meekly.

"Nervermind, I am sure they have been well dealt with."

"Yes Guard Parkes Ma'am."

"You'll like this one pig, it's right down your alley. There are these two hookers, right and they are standing on a street corner ready for a night of business. 'It's gonna be a good night,' says one of the sluts. 'How can you tell?' says the other. 'I can smell cock in the air' replies the first hooker. ‘Sorry', her friend replied, 'I just burped!'" Emily smiled hesitantly at the guard, knowing that to remain impassive would not be a good idea.

"Get it pig, because the other whore had already been sucking cocks. Well maybe too close for comfort, hey? Well?"

Emily stood looking at the guard blankly. Well what? For fucks sake all she wanted to do was go to the toilet. She had already been made to wait, suffered the indignity of the other women, actual criminals, cutting in line.

"Pig it is customary to reward a joke-teller with one of your own. It is not only polite, but it is the etiquette. Maybe I am wasting my time with you," Parkes said disappointedly.

Inexplicably, Emily felt bad for disappointing the guard. She was the only one of her superiors who spoke to her without each word being one of abuse. The conversation may have been inane, centred around stupid jokes, but she had angered the one woman who had shown her any mercy.

"Why do blondes wear shoulder pads? To keep their ears from bruising."

The instant she finished the joke she knew how lame it was. It was all she had been able to come up with. She had never been much of a joke-teller, not having any interest in it.

"Hmmm, permission granted pig."

With that casual statement she had been dismissed. Her cheeks burned with the shame of telling such a poor joke, of disappointing a superior. She should have felt the degradation of requiring permission to perform one of the most everyday, natural things, something she had never thought twice about before. And yet here she was, worried about the feelings of one of her guards.

Her concern grew as she sat on the cold porcelain bowl and emptied her bladder into the toilet. She kept her eyes forward as she had learned, hardly noticing the hive of activity that buzzed around her. Women were undressing, placing their dirty overalls into their nests. Emily noticed that most of the women were naked under their jumpsuits, changing now into the panties and small t-shirt that comprised the rest of their uniform.

Once she had finished, Emily hurried to her nest to retrieve her tiny doll-sized toothbrush. She was saddened to realise that all of her uniform was back in her cell. She would have to spend another night without clothing. She vowed to wake up early and ensure she was ready and waiting, her uniform in her hands, when she was to be collected in the morning. She couldn’t stand another day, naked among clothed women.

As Emily brushed her teeth, she became aware of a presence behind her. She glanced fearfully over her shoulder to discover 47 and her two cronies crowding her. She knew they could do nothing but intimidate her, with both guards only metres away but the sheer menace they exuded was enough to make the young girl tremble.

"Do not look around pig. Keep brushing. Reach back with your left hand. Do it," hissed 47, her near 6 foot bulk towering over the petite girl. "Hand flat pig, fingers out."

Emily did as she was told, knowing as she did so that it was wrong but feeling like she had no way out. What would happen if she did not obey? She was only a prisoner, but what had she done to get put on D-wing? Emily bit down on the short bristles of the toothbrush as she felt moist, warm flesh come in contact with her hand.

"Inside pig," hissed 47, her voice heavily laden with anticipation. "Good girl."

Tears flowed down the trembling girl's cheeks as she was forced to fondle the pussy of another woman. She felt the soft contours of the smooth plump lips before pushing gently, feeling her fingers slip into the liquid smoothness of the woman's silky cleft. Emily froze as she felt her tormentor shudder, the muscles of her pussy closing around Emily's questing fingers.

"You have a lot to learn pig," whispered 47, drunk on the power of dominating a new inmate. She ran D-wing like her own private harem, as much as was possible under the draconian regime imposed by the penitentiary. "Rinse your mouth pig. Now smell me pig. Wipe my scent along your nostrils. Dream of me, pig."

Emily obeyed, aware of the potential trouble she would find herself in if caught but unable to change her fate. Her life had been reduced to following orders, did it truly matter if they came from a guard, the warden or another inmate? Yes it did, she responded petulantly, a small pout the only outward register of her inner turmoil.

It wasn't fair that she had to do these things. She was not a toy. She had to work and do as she was told by the guards, by her superiors, but these bitches had nothing on her. She refused to accept her role as plaything, her anger growing even as she smeared the sexual secretions from another woman on her face.

Emily felt the need to rebel, the need to assert her position as something other than a sexual servant, an erotic amusement for these prisoners. And yet, she did nothing but what she was told. She had obeyed every hushed command, demeaning herself for this woman's pleasure. Why was she so weak, so easily manipulated? She should just say no. Just say no.

But of course she had not and as she turned to see the triumphant smile on 47's face, tears sparkled on her cheeks as she knew that the next confrontation would end in the same way, with her degradation as she did as she was told. She was the property of Pentonbridge prison, that was a fact she could not refute. How she had come to belong to the collective prisoner population of D-wing she still could not fathom.

Emily knew that the sexual escapade she had been forced into would be the first of many. It was the harbinger that cemented her status as object and which highlighted to the frantic girl the dangers of integration. Her time with the guards brought her nothing but abuse, but it was a cold, dehumanising experience. The humiliation at the hands of her fellow inmates was intimate and degrading, causing a more deeply felt anguish, a despair that clawed at the very core of her self-esteem.

She walked back to her cell in a daze, the powerful scent of the woman filling her nostrils, her cheeks blazing furiously at the thought that at any moment she would be discovered. She moved like an automaton as the cuffs were place about her wrists and attached to her belly-chain, securing her for the evening.

Emily lay down upon her hard pallet, dismal thoughts whirling around inside her mind. Her body ached, every part of her body bringing her pain but it was the aroma of sex, the scent of cunt that kept her awake, kept her from sleep, dreading the day to come.