Chapter 1

All I knew about prison was what I saw on television. I also knew I didn't want to be there and if I had any doubts, they were quickly and ruthlessly dispelled.

"SILENCE"

It was a very large sign and I couldn't miss it, so I decided to be quiet as I entered a rather large and dull room. I was dressed in orange coveralls with Velcro closures, no buttons or zippers or strings, not that I could have used any. My hands were manacled to my waist and my feet chained together so that all I could do was shuffle along awkwardly, waddling like a tall, rather thin, and bright orange penguin.

"Robinson, Paul T. 24 years of age, Caucasian, 5'10" tall, 155 pounds, blonde hair, blue eyes, near sighted, 20/80 left eye, 20/100 right eye. No scars, tattoos, or birthmarks. No allergies. No medication. Blood Type A+ and..." The man, a rather husky fellow dressed in a black uniform complete with a peaked cap, lifted the top page. " ... Convicted child rapist and confirmed sexual predator. Hmph."

He reminded me of a character from Schindler's List, one of my favorite movies. I always cried at the end of it.

"I have two daughters," he spoke to me conversationally and there was no one else around. "My Polly, she's going to be fifteen next month. She wants a boyfriend."

He chuckled and I didn't move a muscle.

"My little Emmy," the man sighed. "She's just turned twelve, such a beautiful girl. She's my Princess."

I nodded slightly at that news.

"I bet you'd like to fuck her, huh?" The guard drew a deep breath. "Probably like to slam your prick into that little cunt hard, wouldn't you? Go on, you can tell me. Nobody else is down here, just us. Come on, you'd like to pop my Emmy's cherry, wouldn't you, Paul? Wouldn't you?"

"N-No..." I shook my head and he hit me hard in the gut, driving the air out of me like a sledgehammer. I dropped to the cold floor, trying to breathe and cry and puke all at the same time.

"Now, you may think I hit you because I don't like you, Paul," the man was talking again. "But that's not it at all. I don't like being lied to. That's the first thing and you need to remember that. The other thing, and this is very important, Paul ... Prisoners don't talk."

I got his point.

"There we go..." He helped me to my feet slowly. "Curling up doesn't help. Bend over a little, there we go. Now breathe slowly, through the diaphragm ... That's it. Now, let's try again, and remember what I told you, Paul. Would you like to stick your cock inside my little girls?"

I blinked at him, bent over slightly and my stomach hurt so bad I thought I'd be pissing blood later. I shook my head slowly and waited for another shot of pain from his big right hand. Obviously there would be no correct response, but I'd be damned if I'd ever admit to a lie like that.

"What do we have here, sergeant?" a woman's voice saved me, or so it seemed at that moment and I heard her heels click-clacking towards us.

"Prisoner transfer, Lieutenant," the man righted himself smartly and I got the impression that I ought to do the same, but it was painful standing straight again.

"One of mine?" her voice was light, almost humorous and I turned my head a fraction to see her. "I heard I was getting a new one today."

She was tall and blonde and if the man looked like a Nazi, well, so did the woman actually. She was pale as snow and dressed in black, leather in her case, and I almost smiled at the absurdity of it. She wore black thigh-high stockings that left a good three inches of creamy flesh exposed below the hem of her mini-skirt, which covered her ass and sex and little else. Gleaming black leather boots to her knees. A black tunic, tightly fitted to her proud and impressive breasts, closed about her throat with stiff collar. Her lips were red and her eyes were blue, with prominent cheeks and a slightly pointed chin. Her golden hair was loose, falling to her shoulders, and she wore a black peaked cap, cocked jauntily to the left.

The only thing she was lacking was a bullwhip, or even a riding crop would have completed the outfit nicely.

"I hadn't gotten that far yet, ma'am," the sergeant gave her an apologetic smile. "We were still discussing the rules."

"I see." She was in front of me now, standing beside the man and so I was free to examine her as I pleased. "He looks like one of mine anyway."

"I'm sure he is, Lieutenant," the man nodded and he flipped another page. "Here we go, prisoner to be remanded to the Rockville Institute for psychiatric evaluation and treatment ... He's all yours. I just need some signatures here and here..."

"Of course." The woman clicked her fingers and I suddenly realized she hadn't arrived alone.

Two other women were there, young women, and I couldn't help but stare at them. They were girls really, teenagers it seemed to me, perhaps fifteen or sixteen years old, but no more than that. Probably even younger, because the clothes they wore could only make the girls appear older, I thought.

They were dressed like the Lieutenant, with leather skirts and tunics, boots and stockings. One was raven haired, the other blonde, or brown haired perhaps, but with her hair pinned neatly under cap it was impossible to tell. They looked at me with some interest, but it was cold at best, and while they were certainly attractive, exuding an almost surreal sexuality, I felt nothing but revulsion at seeing them dressed as they were. It seemed a corruption to me of something innocent, especially their eyes which were dark and malevolent somehow, as if the color, the personality they must have once possessed, had been stolen away.

"Thirty days in solitary," the Lieutenant said, handing the clipboard and pen back to the sergeant. "I'll work up his diet later, after he's been examined."

I blinked at her and opened my mouth, almost forgetting the sign and my recent lesson. What had I done to deserve solitary confinement? I wasn't exactly sure what that was, but in every movie I'd ever seen it was a punishment, and a harsh one at that. I'd been in prison for all of half an hour and I was going to solitary? If my face showed any sign of my concern or confusion, none of them seemed to notice or care.

"What number is he?" the man asked. "I'd like to see him again when you're done."

"Forty-Seven," the Lieutenant actually smiled. "And you know us ... We're never done, Sergeant."

"You say so, ma'am," the man laughed and gave me a look. "See you on the flip side, forty-seven."

"Take forty-seven to his new home," the Lieutenant said to the two girls. "I'll catch up."

"Let's go, this way..." The raven haired girl, who was perhaps my height in her boots, but rather delicate seeming beneath her uniform, had grabbed my left elbow and she gave me a tug so I'd walk with her. She had a surprisingly strong grip.

"Your name is forty-seven, don't forget it..." The other girl had taken my right elbow and she was shorter, a bit more athletic seeming, and her uniform was tightly bound to her body. Her hand was strong as well and she wasn't tentative in handling me.

" ... There will be no talking. You will speak only when spoken to and your answers will be respectful..." Raven said.

" ... You will address all guards as ma'am. All officers will be addressed as Mistress. You will lower your eyes when speaking..." Blondie was speaking at the same time.

" ... You will be allowed no visitors until your evaluation is complete. You may be allowed one phone call for five minutes once per week at the Lieutenant's discretion..."

" ... You will keep yourself clean at all times. You will keep your cell clean at all times. You will be inspected three times daily..."

" ... You will not speak to other inmates. You will not come into physical contact with any person. A guard or officer may touch you in the performance of her duty; you will not resist any such contact..."

They spoke quickly and mechanically and my mind reeled as I tried to listen to both of those two girls simultaneously. Some words were lost, others remained with me and there seemed no pattern or logic to the sequence. It only served to confuse me further as they led me slowly down a long corridor that seemed endless at the time. We must have walked a mile, I thought, and I don't exaggerate. Only when we finally reached some steps and they led me up and finally out through a heavy door did I realize that we'd been underground.

We were outside suddenly, under the warm sun and I blinked at the brightness of it. We had fifty yards or so of walkway ahead of us. On either side of the cement path were high double fences, the outer fence marked with warning signs that it was electrified, and both layers were topped with razor wire. I chanced a look behind me and I could see a rather large hill through which we'd evidently passed, and around us a barren scrub of desert that seemed caught in a natural bowl of sorts, with hills encircling the facility. Wherever we were it was secluded, even isolated, as if deliberately hidden away from the rest of the world. Ahead of us loomed a modern building of poured cement, stainless steel, aluminum and glass and we passed into it without fanfare. The doors opened automatically and were doubtless guided by an unseen hand watching us through surveillance cameras.

The girls had finished speaking long ago and we walked silently through a wide corridor. I saw no other people and it felt very much as a tomb and I'd hardly expected that. The walls were concrete, painted white, and the ceiling high above us was laden with bright lights. We passed several doors, stout and steel and of the sort intended to hold prisoners behind them. There were no sounds from behind them however and they were unmarked in any way.

We turned a corner and I found myself entering what seemed to be a large shower area, as if a room had been constructed, but the fourth wall was non-existent. There was merely a lip intended to keep water from escaping, and they stood me in the center of that tiled area, perhaps twenty by twenty feet with a half-dozen shower heads mounted on the walls. Beneath the shower fixtures were faucets with thin black rubber hoses attached and each ended in an odd looking nozzle, stainless steel with a long shaft and a smooth bulbous head. Quite honestly, as I looked at one more closely, I thought it resembled a penis as much as anything else and I wondered what these girls did in their off time.

The blonde girl held me while the dark haired one picked up the handset of a phone mounted in the wall nearby. She pushed a button and spoke softly for a moment and then hung up. I had no idea what we were doing and I was of half a mind to ask, rules or no, as my patience was running thin. I'd spent a lot of time in the city jail waiting for my trial and during it, and while that had been no picnic, it was nothing like this.

"Ah, good." I heard a voice, a woman's naturally, and I began to suspect I was the only man in the whole place.

"Prisoner forty-seven," Raven said and I thought she was addressing me for a moment so I turned slightly.

"Eyes down, forty-seven," Blondie warned me and I swallowed hard.

"Forty-seven already? They do add up," the new woman said and I was aware that she was near, but I kept my eyes down as I'd been told and I'd caught no sight of her.

"I have his paperwork," I recognized the Lieutenant's voice. "He's a bad boy, raped an eleven year old girl."

"Really?" the new woman spoke. "He looks like the man who does my taxes. Unlock him, clean him up."

There was a jangling of keys and another girl, young like Raven and Blondie, was unlocking my feet. She was dressed the same as her erstwhile sisters and her hair was red, pulled into a long straight ponytail down her back. When she looked up at me her eyes were beautifully green and she had a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her pert nose, but she didn't smile, she just stared at me briefly before rising to undo the chains around my waist.

"I'm the Captain. One of the watch commanders here and you are my prisoner, forty-seven," the new woman said and I took advantage of Red's efforts to loose me and stole a quick glance at her.

She was older than the others, but still remarkably young to be in such a position of authority. The Lieutenant couldn't have been much older than eighteen or nineteen, and this Captain, I thought she looked all of twenty-four perhaps and she reminded me of my wife actually. They shared the same heart shaped face, although this woman had black hair, brushed behind her ears and falling just below her collar. She was extremely attractive, as all of them were, and again it seemed like a practical joke, or a particularly bad B-movie that I'd seen as a teenager. The Captain was dressed as the others, although I'd noticed silver collar tabs of curious design which differed by rank apparently.

I wondered why they didn't just go all out and use SS lightning bolts, but perhaps that would be a little over the top even for a bad script like this one. That thought almost made me smile and not for the first time I felt myself cursed by my cynical wit. I'd taken some beatings for it after church as a child, believe me.

"While under my care you will not be mistreated or abused in any way," the Captain continued. "If you feel yourself to be victimized or exploited at any time, you are encouraged to inform me personally. Do you understand, forty-seven?"

I almost slipped then, but I caught myself.

"Yes ... Mistress," I replied carefully, hoping that I'd gotten that particular rule correct.

"Very good," the Captain seemed neither pleased nor displeased by my response, but at least no one punched me in the stomach for it. "Now, undress the prisoner and wash him thoroughly. He stinks."

"OOOF!" Blondie punched me hard in the gut and for being such a little girl she packed a wallop.

I went down for the second time that day and I was too stunned to properly defend myself, but I tried. The three girls, teenage girls, fell on me, almost literally. Raven grabbed me by the short hair on my head, there wasn't much of it, and jerked my head back so she could punch me in the face. Blondie was punching my thighs and arms mostly as I tried to curl up on my side, and the other girl, Red, that must have been her punching me in the back. She knew what she was doing too, hitting me in my kidneys especially, and the entire episode was both brutal and horrifying.

I'm not sure I would have been capable of fighting back under any circumstances as the idea of hurting a girl, even one dressed up for Hitler's birthday party, would have been quite unthinkable to me. As it was, to be pummeled by three such girls, who I was dismayed to realize were laughing and giggling happily while they did it, that was enough to put me into shock. I did nothing except try to protect myself, which was plainly useless. I was punched in the face repeatedly until I tasted blood, and I choked as bile rose in my throat. I was crying and writhing in pain. My back, my kidneys especially, were in agony and at some point Blondie had been able to drive her fist into my balls, several times, and this beating continued well beyond the point of my immediate and total submission.

The abuse stopped eventually, although I couldn't find a specific moment when it happened. I think I passed out briefly. The girls were breathless and smiling, undressing my limp form in a rather disconcerted effort, as if it were game of tug of war. They did manage finally to remove my sneakers, socks, coveralls and t-shirt, and at last my prison issue boxers. I lay bruised and bloodied and naked on the cold tile, unable to do anything but moan and plead with them to stop, which I only vaguely realized I'd been doing for some time.

"What's that?" The Captain stepped closer as I mumbled through my swollen and split lips. "Do you wish to file a complaint, forty-seven?"

I couldn't have answered her if I'd wanted to and in fact she was merely teasing me, having a little joke at my painful expense.

The Lieutenant had undressed during my beating, which might have surprised me if I'd been up for it. As it was my interest in anything other than my own merciful demise was significantly lacking and all I really noticed was that her toes were painted pink, which seemed altogether inappropriate for a Nazi bitch from hell. It was a fleeting thought, granted, and it made as much sense as any other I might have had right then. I only recall that one specifically because I'd always liked pink toes on girls for some reason and some small voice in the back of my bruised brain wondered if I ever would again.

It seemed unfair to have that simple pleasure stolen from me.

"Bring him over here," the Lieutenant was saying. "Let's get this over with."

Raven and Red duly grabbed me, each of them taking a leg, and dragged me backward towards the far wall. It was impossible for me to resist them in any way, although I doubtless moaned my weak outrage at being so treated. It was only when they pulled me to rest quite literally at the Lieutenant's feet that I truly appreciated the nightmare into which I'd entered. I was on my back, looking up at her as she stood haughtily with her hands on her hips, when I realized the beautiful and now quite naked Lieutenant wasn't a woman at all.

She was sporting a rather large and obviously excited erection. A penis to be precise, swollen and ruddy and dripping precum. A heavy drop of the clear liquid fell onto my face, onto my left cheek as I stared up at her in disbelief. The Lieutenant noticed my awareness obviously, and she smiled down at me as she took a moment to grasp her maleness and stroke it lovingly. Just beneath it, I should note for the record, the woman also possessed balls, a hairless pink sack very much like my own, except a little larger perhaps, with the skin drawn tight around the sperm filled testes within.

"Forty-seven likes me, I think," she chuckled, and it was a cruel sound. She spoke to me then, as if confiding me with a secret. "Don't worry; this is my favorite part of the day too."

My natural reaction would have been to get away, but in my present state there was very little of that going through my mind. I wouldn't have gotten far anyway, the three teens were still there and I could hear them giggling and commenting on how much or little I might enjoy the next few minutes. I had no specific idea of what was going to happen with me, but it wasn't hard to imagine the possibilities and I wasn't surprised at all when the Lieutenant turned on the shower so that a sudden rush of warm water bathed me.

She washed me thoroughly, using soap and a long handled scrub brush. The bristles were surprisingly soft actually, and despite my bruises, or perhaps because of them, the shower itself began to feel good. The water was very pleasant and that soft soapy brush moving rapidly back and forth over every part of my body seemed to be very much what my aching body needed to recover somewhat. The fact that the Lieutenant herself, who was very beautiful despite the obscene presence of her large cock and heavy balls, was very close to me, touching me with her hands and indeed her entire body, wasn't unpleasant by any means either. But I was hardly thinking straight in any case.

"Let's get that cunthole clean, forty-seven. On your knees," the Lieutenant ordered me and I found myself moving slowly to comply.

"He does like you, Lieutenant," the Captain's voice had a trace of humor in it. "Forty-seven's clit is getting hard for you."

The three teenagers laughed and I blinked at the realization that the woman was right, I was getting excited. As I finally got up on my hands and knees I could look down, beneath my thighs to see that my own cock, still sore from my beating like the rest of my body, had nonetheless grown stiff. It was a natural reaction, I suppose, given my circumstances and meant very little regarding my feelings for any of my captors, but it was embarrassing and I felt it as a betrayal.

"Well, let's see how much the faggot likes this," the Lieutenant chuckled and she was uncoiling one of the hoses off the wall.

I stared blankly at the nozzle attachment for a second and thought it looked remarkably similar in size and shape to the woman's cock. With some revulsion I realized that she meant to put the thing into my rectum and for a brief heartbeat I did in fact almost try to escape my predicament, but perhaps the Lieutenant sensed this, or more likely she had no small amount of experience in such things, for she grabbed my neck from behind in a powerful grip and snarled at me to hold still.

The physical pain was far less than I might have feared, but emotionally it was almost unbearable. The smooth stainless steel was cold and hard and the woman worked it quickly past my sphincter, warning me not to fight it or the pain would only be worse. She held my neck as if I were a child really, or a puppy perhaps, sliding that cock shaped tool into my virgin anus so far I imagined I'd be tasting metal soon. It hurt like hell at first, my body trying to refuse; I felt my anus stretching and being forced to yield with a sharp burning sensation that brought a strangled cry from deep in my belly.