Chapter 6: Corinne

Corinne’s quarry sat squirming on the lone cot in the bare, white, six by nine foot cell. Like all inmates in Administrative Segregation, her bare thighs glistened with juices, unabsorbed by her plastic underwear.

Administrative Segregation, such a wonderful euphemism for solitary confinement. The bland language served to dehumanize the inmates sent here even further. Corinne approved.

All residents in Ad-Seg were issued a pair of special, extra-thick panties that prevented any stimulation, which served as their only clothing below the waist. A tight, elastic waist-band and the crotch-strap of the straitjacket held them in place. The underwear was made of flexible but non-absorbent plastic. There were tiny slits in the crotch and a larger hole in the back, so it didn’t need to come off when the inmate used the toilet.

This one looked at Corinne expectantly.

Corinne placed the inmate’s lunch, a protein shake, on the ground. Everyone down here was on an all-liquid diet so that the straitjacket didn’t need to come off for meals.

“I could give you a straw for this.” Corinne paused deliberately, as if considering her options. “Or, I could watch you stick your ugly face in and try to lap up your dinner like the animal you are.”

The threat rolled off her tongue in a light, conversational tone. The juxtaposition of the harsh words and friendly demeanor was more effective at intimidation than mere shouting. Additionally, Corinne always carefully controlled her speech to prevent any trace of her Russian accent from becoming apparent.

Ah, now, there was the fear. Corinne could see it in the eyes. The inmate remained silent, but proper respect was an adequate start.

Corinne picked the shake up again, slowly pushed a straw into it and took a step forward. “Now, today might be your lucky day. As appropriate as it would be to watch you make a mess of yourself—or rather an even bigger mess of yourself—you can have your straw.”

Without the straitjacket it would have been unsafe to be in the cell alone with an inmate. However, in solitary, where they were all properly restrained, it was common practice.

She approached Corinne unsteadily, unable to properly balance herself in the straitjacket. The constant twitching and the way she swung her hips didn’t help her coordination either. She leaned down towards the shake, but Corinne pulled it away at the last second. “First, tell me about Morgan Heller.”

“S-Strawberry?”

Useless nonsense. “Morgan Heller.” Corinne repeated. “I suggest you reach deep into that weak, filthy, cock-hungry brain of yours and tell me about Morgan Heller.”

“I’m— But— Heller?”

“Yes, Heller. From before you were transferred here.” Corinne had bought O’Reilly six rounds of drinks to get that information. Social manipulation was not Corinne’s strength, but luckily the oafish corrections officer was quite fond of guzzling poison and blathering on about her job.

Such things were minor details, but they were important.

The inmate seemed to be gradually coming out of her daze. “Strawberry pie. She burned her sister with a hot strawberry pie, so we call her Strawberry.”

Maybe there was a fragment of useful information in this one after all. Corinne stared back, saying nothing, waiting for more. It was important to keep questions open ended, to not let on what she wanted to know. Given half a chance the filth they kept in here would spout nonsense, inventing whatever they thought she wanted to hear.

“So ya know, she’s pissed at me.” Her voice had a bit more spirit now. Good. That meant there was something left to break. “Been ignoring me for weeks. And she’s here now, you know? Just ask her.”

“I’m asking you,” Corinne said.

“What’d she do? Strawberry’s crazy. I bet when you put it in she went total Frankenstein, right?”

“Oh, did I stutter?” Corinne arched an eyebrow. “You are going to tell me about Morgan Heller, not the other way around”

“You want to know about Heller? She kept jilling and getting caught. I made a bet she would knock it off before she got hauled away or got herself killed. She found out and got pissy. That’s it, end of story.”

Corinne turned ever so slightly. Now her back was to where she knew the camera was positioned in the cell. The video cameras were always running, but under most circumstances the audio recorders were off. There was a good reason for that: If the screams and threats were never recorded, they couldn’t be leaked by some pansy CO with a weak stomach and silly ideas about morality.

She held out the protein shake, and Amato obliged her by leaning in to slurp it up.

Corinne palmed the bullet vibe from her sleeve with the hand not holding the shake. With one quick motion, she reached under the elastic band of the plastic underwear and pushed the device home. Those tight, plastic panties would hold it firmly in place, and with her back to the camera, there would be no record of what she’d done.

That startled, confused, expression which slowly morphed into one of terror was a beautiful thing to behold. Corinne stepped back and placed the inmate’s dinner on the ground. The vibrator would be a far more effective source of motivation than the food.

Even turned off, Amato would be feeling the friction between her body and the intruder, her internal muscles reflexively squeezing it. The Complement would amplify those sensations into a raging fire of lust, far beyond any natural arousal, building up inside her with nowhere to go. No chance of release.

Amato’s breathing quickened. That was how it worked: there was a part of them that hungered for it, wanted the stimulation. The more they got, the more they wanted, and no amount was ever enough. The ones that ended up in a straitjacket didn’t have enough willpower to fight it, but they still had enough sense to be afraid of what the vibrator could do.

Best of all, this technique left no marks, not even anything that could be called pain. Only pleasure, or lack thereof. Nevertheless, it could be extraordinarily persuasive.

“I’m not particularly interested in your personal disagreement with Heller,” Corinne explained. “Likewise, I don’t care about nicknames or stories of sluts burning one another with pies. I really suggest you start telling me something more interesting than that; otherwise I’m going to reach into my pocket and press a button. You’d make some very interesting noises then, I’m sure. I really suggest you try to do better here.”

“She had a lawyer!” Amato blurted.

“Go on.”

“Like, only rich people have lawyers and she had one. I told you Strawberry’s crazy, and not just the jilling. One moment she’s cursing like a trailer trash fritter, the next she’s a Disney princess who thinks her shit don’t stink.”

Again, with the personal commentary. Corinne reached into her pocket and toggled the remote.

Amato’s whole body tensed in anticipation, but slowly relaxed after a few moments when nothing happened. There was no tell-tale buzzing from the vibrator. Corinne had reached into the wrong pocket, toggled the wrong remote.

Corinne couldn’t afford to make mistakes like that, couldn’t afford to be weak. She smiled, pretending the error was intentional. “Next time I press the button for real. This is your last chance. I want facts, not guesses. Tell me what you know.”

“Her lawyer, is that what you want to know about?” She sounded desperate now. “I never met him. Strawberry said she paid him a ton of money but he was totally useless. Evidently he didn’t think there was any chance a jury would believe she didn’t steal that money. That’s what I heard her say, and that’s a fact. Okay?”

That was getting closer, but Corinne needed more. “Yes, I believe it is. Give me another.”

“Like, okay, I didn’t hear her say it, but she must have taken a plea bargain, otherwise she’d still be at county. What else do you want? She’s tall? She has brown hair? What?”

As tempting as it was to flip the switch now, it was probably safe to give her a nudge in the right direction. “Tell me how she got caught.” Before she gave Amato a chance to answer, Corinne clarified: “Not the pie. The money.”

“The fuck do I know? You don’t pry into that shit, that’s a good way to get dead. Strawberry says she didn’t do it, I just nod and don’t make waves.”

Heller was claiming she was innocent. That could be an inconvenience. Luckily, Corinne was an expert at convincing recalcitrant inmates to cooperate.

It seemed likely Amato was telling the truth, but there was still the off-chance she knew more than she was saying. Corinne reached into her pocket and this time toggled the proper remote.

Loud moans filled the cell as Amato doubled over, writhing. Her arms struggled against the thick fabric of the straitjacket and her legs kicked spastically.

Then the begging started: “Oh my god! Please, please, oh Jesus, please, I need to— oh please...”

It was music to Corinne’s ears.

“Please what? Isn’t this what you wanted? This is what we do with out-of-control sluts who haven’t learned to stop digging for clams. That vibrator is as good as a finger, isn’t it?”

Corinne toggled the remote again. The buzzing stopped and Amato howled in frustration.

“Now, that little thing isn’t nearly as powerful as what Dr. Farrell has upstairs. On the other hand, this one has a fascinating setting that I really must tell you about. It can be set to automatically cycle on and off, with each cycle a random length. I’ve found ninety to a hundred and eighty seconds on, followed by ten to one-twenty off is particularly effective. It’s the shut-off that really fries your brain, isn’t it? So, we charge you up and shut you down, at least once every five minutes. Over and over, with no way for you to predict when it will start and when it will stop. All day. All night, if necessary. Do you think that will be necessary? Or are you going to stop lying to me?”

“Oh Jesus, fuck,” Amato continued to moan on the floor. “Okay, okay, so she did say her coworker had an issue with her. Told her boss that a shipment never showed up. Maybe that’s how they noticed? I’m telling you she said she didn’t do it, okay?”

It was a transparent lie — no name or gender for the boss or coworker, no details on what was in this ‘shipment’, and a truly generic description of an embezzlement setup. That, and Corinne was already fairly certain that the immediate conversion to cryptocurrency was what sent up the first red flags.

“I’ve worked here for over a year, and do you know what I’ve noticed?” Corinne asked. “The Complement doesn’t change who you are. It simply tears away the mask. Now, everyone can see you for the lying, out-of-control whore you really are. No loyalty in the world. Now everyone can see you exactly as I do.”

“I’m going to make this easy for you,” Corinne continued. “I happen to know for a fact that you just lied to me. Admit your lie and I might reconsider turning on my little toy and walking out that door. Otherwise, you’re not going to get much sleep tonight.”

“Oh fuck, no, alright, alright, she never said anything about a shipment. I told you—she didn’t say anything! What do you want?”

Corinne flipped the vibrator back on but didn’t leave. She waited patiently for a few minutes through another round of convulsions, begging and other pathetic noises.

After turning off the vibrator she continued. “Now that we’ve established that you’re a liar, is there anything else you would like to share?”

“Please, oh fuck, oh fuck,” Amato’s eyes were wild. “You have to believe me. I’m not lying, I don’t know anything, she didn’t say anything.”

“Hmm. A whore who isn’t lying,” Corinne mused. “I can never quite bring myself to believe they exist. Even so, I will consider the possibility that you are telling the truth right now.”

She paused to let that sink in, then continued. “As you point out, Heller is currently a guest here. Whatever she may try to tell you, she is guilty of embezzlement. You’ll be transferred back into the general population soon. Talk to her. Convince her to admit what she did. I want to know every detail of how she planned her theft and how she got caught. Otherwise, we’re going to end up right back here.”

Corinne repositioned herself so her back was to the camera again and quickly retrieved the vibrator. “And next time, I’m going to give you more than just a taste. Oh, and this should go without saying, but if you should mention our little chat to anyone, you’ll be wishing you were never born. Are we clear?”

Amato nodded. “Yes, yes, I’ll ask her.”

Corinne turned towards the door, and then turned back. “One more thing,” she said. “Earlier, I believe you referred to Heller ‘going total Frankenstein.’ Unlike you, your friend managed not to end up in a straitjacket. You might want to reevaluate who you’re calling crazy. We’ll talk again soon.”

Immediately after exiting the cell, Corinne reached into her other pocket for the remote she had turned off by mistake, re-engaging the randomized cycle. She couldn’t have Bedlan thinking she’d been forgotten.

Her chat with Amato had gone about how Corinne expected. Intimidation was easy, unlike the more subtle approaches which inevitably led to trouble. There was no way to know whether Amato’s cooperation would lead to anything useful, but there was little risk and it was important to explore all available avenues.

Lately, everything seemed to come down to talking. For the better part of a decade, her relentless quest for vengeance had been straightforward. The simple, methodical elimination of each target gave her a deep sense of satisfaction, the knowledge that justice had been served.

Now, things weren’t simple anymore. Only one target remained from her list. She had to take this job as a prison guard to get a crack at Heidi Bedlan.

Then her plan changed.

Corinne had put dozens of back-stabbing whores in the ground. She was finally in position to finish off the last one, the very last one, and what did she find? Someone had come up with a more suitable punishment than she could ever have imagined, and Bedlan had already been subjected to it.

Up until now, Corinne only killed her enemies. What went on here every day was worse.

No, not worse. Better. They screamed and begged and suffered every waking moment. Without the capacity for orgasm, their out-of-control sexual urges consumed them. Even their movements, even their smell, broadcast to the world what they were. Death was too good for some, and that included Bedlan. There were few things that could inflict both physical and psychological suffering as effectively as a Complement.

Upon arriving in Marysville and learning about what went on there, Corinne had done her homework. The Complements seemed too good to be true, and she was always careful. She was quite thorough in her research, going so far as to find ways to acquire insider details of the company that designed the technology.

It had been worth it. She concluded that under the right circumstances the Complements were capable of everything she hoped for, and more.

So, the slaughter was over, much as she enjoyed it. Bedlan’s SO was the last. As far as Corrine could determine Bedlan’s significant other, like so many of them, had been selected in desperation. He was just someone she barely knew from one of her university classes who said yes. Poor kid had no way of knowing what he’d gotten involved in, but Corinne had no intention of letting him give Bedlan any relief.

She made sure no one ever found the body. There would be no death certificate, at least not for a while.

The mere placement of a Complement was insufficient, though. It was possible to amplify Bedlan’s suffering to a level that was almost — almost — appropriate for what she’d done to Anton. For what she’d taken from Corinne. Unfortunately, that goal required more finesse than her previous strategy.

Finally, there was this whole situation with Morgan Heller. Heller’s presence here in the same prison as Bedlan was pure coincidence. That meant Corinne was already in position to investigate, but it was also another situation which couldn’t be solved by simple violence.

Social manipulation was not Corinne’s strength. Still, her business at the art gallery had gone well. Almost too well. The woman had been agreeable, and she certainly acted as if she believed Corinne’s story. Nevertheless, Corinne had a gut feeling that she’d made a mistake there too. She was missing something.

Corinne was reminded once again of her social limitations when Hagen wanted to speak with her later that day. She didn’t know what the Assistant Warden wanted, but she could guess. Chances were Maria Sideris still had something up her ass-crack and had said something.

“Sit down,” Hagen greeted her. “I hear you and Tara O’Reilly went out for drinks last week.”

“Yes.” Corinne had hoped that wouldn’t get around, but the other COs gossiped amongst themselves like bored housewives.

“I wasn’t under the impression you two were close while she worked here, before she moved to Columbus.” Hagen’s tone was light, but Corinne was instantly wary — this is how an interrogation began. Keep the target off guard, dance around the point, keep them guessing.

“Not particularly.” Corinne said. “We were just catching up.”

“So you understand, I don’t care what you do on your own time. Half of my people go home and drink themselves into a stupor. Some take up crazy hobbies. I happen to know one of my COs — and no, not the one you think — spends her off hours knitting.”

That would be Dailey. Corinne never shared anything, but she always kept her ears open. She waited for the Assistant Warden to make whatever point she was approaching.

“You’re a good CO, one of my best. Always on time, always the first to deal with trouble, always in control. Trouble is, it’s possible to be a little too perfect.”

Corinne’s heart skipped a beat, but she tried not to show it. Did Hagen know about her past? About her recent past? Had she guessed why Corinne had taken this job?

“You probably don’t mean to do it,” Hagen went on, “but you can come off, well, odd. Every CO needs to be able to put the inmates in their place. It’s a job skill. Your tone, though— if you were yelling or screaming to intimidate them, that would be fine. That’s normal. As it is, I have had multiple COs comment that they’re a bit disturbed by the graphic detail you use to describe the things you’ll do to an inmate if she doesn’t fall in line. And it’s not just the threats, it’s the way you make them. It’s as if, and I’m quoting here, as if you’re ‘ordering a pizza.’”
This again. All her life Corinne had heard how she was odd, different. Here she was, a prison guard, among the toughest of the tough, and still she was the odd one. Hearing it again aggravated her, but she pushed aside those thoughts. Those were weak thoughts. Luckily, this probably meant whatever Hagen wanted had nothing to do with her past.

“It works,” Corinne said. “It keeps them under control, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, I suppose,” Hagen said. “But you know what they call you, right? It’s not just your eyes. You keep your distance from the other COs, too. Cold, icy. Honestly, catching up with Tara is the first sign of humanity I’ve seen in you, which is why I mention it. We all cope with the job differently. I’m not reprimanding you, but I want you to see where I’m coming from.”

“I take my job seriously,” Corinne replied.

“I can tell.” Hagen let out a long sigh. “But I want you to take a moment and think how this looks. You are — hands down — the most physically attractive corrections officer here.”

Corinne started to protest, but Hagen cut her off. “Let me finish. I don’t know why you want to be in here with the animals. None of my business. But, when there are multiple incidents between an inmate who wouldn’t be out of place on a fashion runway and the one CO I could describe the same way? Look at it from where I’m standing. What would you think?”

This was about Bedlan, then. “I caught Bedlan with a weapon made from her toothbrush. I asked Officer Sideris to join me in retrieving it after I overheard Wronski, one of Bedlan’s cell mates, make an unusual reference to that toothbrush. Sideris can corroborate that when I retrieved the toothbrush it had been turned into a weapon. Has our policy on deadly weapons changed?”

“No,” Hagen said, “But was this the same Wronski that Bedlan claimed was responsible the last time we sent her down to Ad-Seg? The same Wronski you let off with a warning?”

Corinne shrugged. “Bedlan’s sensitive. No self-control. She was looking for a scapegoat. Either that or she was telling the truth and decided to get revenge.”

“Ah, yes. Sensitive. I was coming to that.” Hagen said. “Bedlan keeps ending up back in a straitjacket, doesn’t she? And afterwards she seems more affected by it, sometimes going right back in, other times walking around in a daze. We have her scrubbing toilets with the droolers, because the Geodesic people say she sits there, doing nothing, staring at her monitor. If I didn’t know better I’d say her man did a number on her, but he’s never bothered to show up and she’s not quite at the level of the others. Angela can’t explain it either.”

“So?”

“So,” said Hagen, “You’ve been taking extra shifts delivering meals and doing check-ups down in high security. I know you’ve swapped shifts with the COs on duty down in Ad-Seg more than once. Honestly, I don’t know if you have anything to do with Bedlan’s ‘sensitivity,’ and it doesn’t matter. What matters is how it looks. The other COs are talking, and that makes it my problem.”

“Sideris said something.” It wasn’t a question. That’s why she’d brought Sideris along when she collected the toothbrush that Wronski had planted. Corinne had wanted Sideris to see the evidence for herself. Evidently it hadn’t been sufficient.

“Yes,” Hagen confirmed her suspicions, “You know about her grandfather. I take care of my people, you know that. Inmates have issues, accidents happen now and then, I know. But, under the circumstances I have to go by the book. Both you and Sideris are good officers, and I’m going to cut her some slack here too.”

In Corinne’s opinion, Sideris didn’t have the stomach to be a CO. She didn’t deserve her job, let alone any slack. “The book says we keep inmates caught with deadly weapons in Administrative Segregation.”

“Any other time and I’d let it slide.” Hagen said. “But Sideris is cashing in her chips here, not to mention this thing stinks to high heaven. It could have been Bedlan who sharpened that toothbrush. It could also have been Wronski. Maybe Sideris is right and it’s jealousy; maybe you’re protecting Wronski. I don’t need the details, I don’t want the details, but this shit ends now. You’re not in trouble, but whatever is going on here ends today. Understood?”

“The only thing going on is that an inmate created a deadly weapon,” Corinne replied. “If you want that to end, keep her in solitary. Otherwise, you’ll get more weapons, and next time she might try to use one before we catch her.”

Hagen clasped her hands on her desk and leaned forward. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. Bedlan is going to get a two week stay in Ad-Seg and Wronski is going to join her. One of them is making weapons and I don’t know which. That means they both get to cool their heels in a straitjacket for a while.”

That was less than ideal, but it could be worse. That left two full weeks to give Bedlan the treatment she so richly deserved. Wronski would not be happy, though her accomplice knew better than to say anything. Corinne would have to find a way make it up to her. Wronski was filth, but they had a deal.

Loyalty mattered. Corinne had always, always, always been loyal. When someone assisted her, earned her loyalty, it was a sacred bargain. It didn’t matter if outsiders got hurt, but betraying a friend was the ultimate crime. Disloyalty was the defining trait of a whore, and whenever she caught herself slipping down that path, she forced herself back from the brink.

“Finally,” said Hagen. “As of tomorrow, you’re done working high security. Your fitness scores are higher than any other CO in this facility, and it’s my judgment that your talents are wasted on inmates that are already restrained. That leaves you one more shift in high security, this afternoon. Take care of anything you need down there before you clock out.”

Corinne was careful not to let the Assistant Warden see her dismay. Without access to inmates in solitary confinement, she couldn’t continue as planned. Hagen had obviously guessed about the vibrator. She was giving Corinne a chance to retrieve it before banning her from Ad-Seg so that it wouldn’t be discovered.

“I understand.” Corinne said. There was nothing else to say. Hagen clearly wasn’t going to budge. “Is that all?”

Hagen sighed again. “Look, Jaanson, I’m going to let you in on the worst-kept secret we have around here. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a giant shitstorm coming, and we’re all sitting at ground-zero.”

“You mean the Complements?” Corinne asked. She didn’t know for certain what Hagen was referring to, but it was a good bet it had something to do with the one thing that made this facility unique.

“Yes, the Complements!” Hagen pounded her fist against the desk. “You got here right around the time this started, so maybe you don’t realize how different things are. We’ve had to change everything. The Warden and the politicians got paid off by CY to try this scheme, got convinced they can save money, but guess whose job it is to actually make that happen?”

“I didn’t realize there was a problem.” She genuinely hadn’t known there were any issues. Had she missed something?

“It’s the money,” Hagen said. “It’s always about the money. The Complements were supposed to shave a bare-minimum four percent off our budget. We’ve had to change in enough other ways, the savings comes to under one percent.”

“They are saving money, then.” Corinne still didn’t see the problem.

“And do you know what we had to do to make that happen? Why do you think we do the conjugals the way that we do? That was the Warden’s idea too, by the way. Prepping inmates for the conjugals takes extra staff. Wages and overtime are what cost real money. We can’t afford to schedule too many conjugals every weekend before we start losing money hand over fist. So, we follow the letter of the law if not the spirit.”

Corinne said nothing. She already knew the rationale behind the conjugals, as did everyone else. She considered the setup to be an ingenious solution.

“The Warden gets to sit in his office down in the admin building and hobnob with his buddies the big-wig Greenies without ever stepping foot in here. Not that this Complement shit wasn’t bi-fucking-partisan of course. Another brilliant political maneuver from the asshole, right there. When the law changed, banning male staff, he kept his comfy job by moving his office down the road. That leaves me to deal with his shit.”

“But ‘ground-zero?’” Corinne asked.

“It is the money, and it isn’t the money. The more we save, the easier it is to justify the Warden’s pet program. The Complements got slipped through in the dead of night in a rider to the bill that mandated an all female staff. You, along with Sideris and over half my people were hired as part of that initiative, as I recall. Sure, there was some talk, some news. I believe the Warden was quoted as saying that we were ‘putting a lid on misbehavior.’ No one said anything about turning them into out-of-control sluts.”

“Well, guess what?” Hagen asked rhetorically. “They’re starting to notice now. Yesterday we got a call, the second this month, from a doctor at the Cleveland Clinic. She’s evidently been doing some pro-bono work for ex-cons. She wasn’t the first and she won’t be the last. I don’t know where this is heading, but chances are it’s only the beginning.”

Hagen looked to the ceiling. “I have a nightmare, you know. Imagine a disgruntled CO—let’s say Maria Sideris, to pick a name at random. Imagine Maria decides to quit and then starts running her mouth to every media outlet who will listen about the conditions in here. About the conjugals. About the droolers. All for less than one percent savings. The media might ignore the ex-cons, but a former CO would be different.”

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Hagen said. “Personally, I don’t give two shits if all the animals end up as droolers, so long as no one makes a fuss. Serves ‘em right. I do care whether I have reporters snooping around, asking questions, looking to cause trouble. I’m allergic to reporters, and I’m allergic to trouble. God help us if the little reporter snots start poking their noses where they don’t belong. In the event the buggers do start showing up, I don’t want them to find anything happening other than what I was specifically ordered, by the Warden, in writing, to make happen. Understood?”

“Yes, I understand,” Corinne said. Corinne understood that Hagen was having trouble with her weak stomach, even if she wouldn’t admit it to her employee. Not as weak as Sideris, though. Hagen still had a sense of duty. She understood the weakness for what it was and made excuses for it, but it was still weakness.