ALL ABOUT EVE
by
Joe Doe
TV ANCHOR STEPHANIE'S TRIP TO A WOMAN'S PRISON TAKES AN UNEXPECTED
TURN WHEN SHE BRINGS ALONG HER AMBITIOUS ASSISTANT, EVE. IT'S A
STRIP SEARCH TWIST ON A CLASSIC TALE.
Stephanie stood in an isolated corner of the large holding cell
and discreetly took the small phone out of her pocket. It had
been Eve's idea for her to go "undercover" as a prisoner in the
holding area so that she could talk to the women waiting to be
processed, but her assistant was supposed to have sprung her over
an hour an ago.
Stephanie impatiently listened to the phone ring: eight...nine...!
Why didn't Eve pick up?
"Hello?" Eve's voice finally said.
"Where the hell are you?" Stephanie whispered angrily, trying to
hide her conversation from the other inmates. "You and the warden
were supposed to release me! Some of these inmates are really
scary!"
"Calm down, Stephanie," Eve said. "There’s been a change of
plans. How are things going in the tank?"
"Wonderful," Stephanie said, sarcastically. "I'm locked in a cell
with three murderers, four junkies, and a woman who raped another
woman with a bottle. It's just lovely. Now get me the hell out
of here!"
"Did you get the background information you wanted?" Eve asked,
archly.
"Yes, so get me OUT of here," Stephanie repeated. "They've
already taken half of the women away for processing. I don't
have much time."
"No, you don't," Eve observed, casually. "The warden showed me
the videotapes of the women being processed this afternoon. Strip
search, shower, delousing, and uniform fitting can be completed in
minutes. The guards are very efficient, although the guys really
seem to enjoy their work, especially when it's a pretty little
thing like you on the other end of the glove. They can process
100 women in an hour!"
It's difficult to shout and whisper at the same time, but somehow
Stephanie managed. "Eve, you have to get me out of here NOW!"
She heard the sound of male laughter. "No, Steve," Eve giggled.
"I've had too much champagne already. My head is positively
SPINNING! It's so warm in here...would you mind if I took off my
jacket?"
"Steve?" Stephanie said. "Who the hell is STEVE? Where are you?"
"Steve's the warden, silly," Eve replied. "He suggested we go
back to his place at the beach so I could get some background
information for my interview with him tomorrow."
"I'm doing the interview, Eve, not you," Stephanie snapped. "The
camera crew is going to arrive at noon tomorrow, and I'll
interview the warden at his office."
"Like I said, there's been a change of plans," Eve replied. "I
suggested to Steve that we let you continue undercover for the
next few days, and I'll do all of the on-camera anchor work. You
did promise that, if I worked hard, I'd get my big break someday."
"I meant in a few years," Stephanie snarled. "You're in the
college internship program, and you've been working for me for
only two weeks!"
"But you know I'm a fast learner," Eve replied, merrily. "And
you said yourself that TV news is always looking for fresh young
faces."
Stephanie ground her teeth. At the age of 29, the beautiful
blonde newscaster hardly considered herself over the hill. But
her shapely 21-year-old assistant, Eve, could give any woman a
run for her money.
Stephanie had resented the young woman's good looks and brazen
ambition, and she'd quickly relegated the flirtatious little
upstart to menial office tasks and personal errands. But, after
two weeks of picking up Stephanie's laundry, walking Stephanie's
dog, and washing Stephanie's Corvette, Eve had complained to her
uncle, and Stephanie was forced to take Eve along for her
background interview at the woman’s prison.
"I swear, if you don't get me out of here, you're fired."
"Temper, temper, Stephanie," Eve patronized. "You never would
have hired me in the first place if my uncle didn't own the
station. And, by the time you get out of the clink, the broadcast
will already be on the air. But don't worry; although I'll be
doing the voice-over and the interviews, you’ll still get plenty
of camera time. All the strip searches and showers and stuff are
on videotape, although my uncle says we’ll have to use one of those
blue dots to hide your naughty bits when you spread your legs. But
he said that I can show your bare fanny on the air, as long as I
read one of those parental advisory notices before I do it. So I
asked Steve to sign you up for a disciplinary session."
"Disciplinary session?" Stephanie gasped.
"Yeah, you know, with the razor strap. They do it out in the
courtyard. They'll tie you down over the horse, and then warm
your fanny with this big old black razor strap that they use to
discipline all the girls. Mostly they do it over the girls'
panties, but I convinced Steve that, in your case, an 'underpants
downer' would be best. It IS sweeps month, you know," Eve giggled.
"You can’t be serious, Eve! I’m a grown woman! You can't give me
a bare bottom spanking...ON TELEVISION! You can't humiliate me
that way."
"There's no shame in it, Stephanie," Eve said, sympathetically.
"What you have to remember is that even the toughest cons break
down, and wiggle their little fannies, and promise to be good
little girls, once they start laying on the stripes. I'll explain
in my voice-over how the razor strap can make even a well-educated
and sophisticated professional woman like you wiggle her backside
like a naughty teenager sent to the woodshed."
"But the best part is that the warden says he'll strap you down
so you'll be straddling the horse," Eve said breathlessly. "That
means, when you lift your fanny up, the camera will be able to
see up right between your legs! Of course, my uncle says we'll
apologize for not using the blue dot and claim that we didn't
notice. But it should really drive up the ratings."
"I don’t care about the ratings! I just want out of here."
"But just think of it, Stephanie. A week of newscasts with you
getting spanked and searched! A week-long series featuring you
in skimpy shorts and a tight t-shirt, sweating in the chain gang
and scrubbing out toilets. And I'll be in my crisp blue blazer
providing play-by-play. We'll be the perfect team, Stephanie.
With my brains and your cute little bod, it'll be ratings gold.
Must-see TV! With the exposure I get, I'm sure to get a job
offer from one of the networks."
"But what about MY exposure!" Stephanie wailed. "After I get
paraded around naked on TV, I’ll be the laughing stock of the
profession. I’ll never work again."
"Don’t be silly," Eve patronized. "Those men's magazines are
ALWAYS looking for famous anchors to do pictorials, and don't
forget about the adult video industry. Naturally, I'll get all
the money from the home video version, since I'm the talent," she
explained, pedantically. "But, since the home video won’t have
any of those silly blue dots, it'll be a HUGE seller, and you'll
already have your first adult video hit."
Stephanie was horrified, but knew she couldn't show it. "Eve,
put the warden on the phone, right now!" she commanded.
"Sorry. The poor dear is trying to find another bottle of
champagne," Eve said. "But he did have a message for you. He
said the other prisoners can be really tough on a pretty young
thing like you, and you shouldn't be ashamed of what you have to
do to survive. Cute little blondes often fall prey to bull dyke
prisoners or horny guards, and, if you have to become someone's
frisky bitch to survive, no one will hold it against you."
"He really said THAT?" Stephanie gasped.
"Well, his exact words were, 'sucking a row of ding dongs or
munching some rugs is a small price to pay for getting out of
this snake pit alive.' Little Stevie can be so melodramatic
sometimes!" she giggled.
"Tell me, are you a natural blonde, Stephanie? I think you are,
but Steve wasn't sure. Anyway, Steve says blonde beaver is
worth more cigarettes in prison, and you'll be okay if you
become someone's bitch."
Stephanie's hand instinctively flew to cover her crotch. The
idea of her soft downy fleece being used to set her market price
was too humiliating to bear.
She heard some garbled voices on the other end of line, followed
by more giggling. "Oh, Stevie, you've spilled champagne all over
my blouse!" Eve tittered. "Now I'm just going to have to take it
off! I hope that wasn’t your plan all along, you naughty boy,"
she scolded.
Then a hand grabbed Stephanie and roughly spun her around. She
looked up at Bertha, an enormous 300-pound black female con, who
stood over six inches taller than the tiny blonde newscaster.
She winced as Bertha’s hand closed around her neck. "You been
hiding this phone from me, white bread?" Bertha snarled.
"Bertha don't like it when her white bitches hold out on her.
You'll pay for that tonight, sweet cheeks."
The black giant easily wrested the phone out of Stephanie's hand,
but she could still hear Eve's singsong voice on the other end of
the line. "I have to go now, Stephanie...Stevie is getting
frisky. But it sounds like you have some new playmates to keep
you company. Be good. And remember, I'll be by to watch the
tape of your first night in prison tomorrow. Ta-Ta!"
The black inmate snapped the phone shut and slipped it into her
pocket while effortlessly lifting the gasping Stephanie up onto
her toes. "What else are you hiding from Bertha, whitey?"
Bertha's chubby fingers ran down from Stephanie's shoulder and
gave her right breast a playful squeeze. "I like my titties all
soft and white. You got any nice creamy white milk for Bertha,
bitch?" the convict snickered. "Let me hear you say, 'Moo'!"
Stephanie said nothing. Bertha’s grip tightened, and Stephanie
gasped. "I said, say 'moo' for me, you white cow. Moo for me,
so I know it's time to squeeze your cute little udders."
"Moo!" Stephanie gasped, chocking back tears of humiliation.
"Moo!"
"Louder, you little heifer!" Bertha chuckled. "Moo for Bertha,
and ask for your milking."
"MOO!" Stephanie cried out. "MOO! MOO!"
"That’s a good little dairy cow," Bertha sneered. "You moo real
nice, white girl. When I sucks on your little white dairies, I's
sure you gonna give out all sorts of creamy white milk."
Bertha’s hand slipped off Stephanie’s breast and playfully cupped
her left bottom cheek. "Maybe I should brand you so that
everyone knows you belong to me, white cow," Bertha said. "When
you got my mark ever'body'll know I's the one owns your cute
little ass."
"Okay, ladies...into the next room for pat and poke," the guard's
voice barked.
Stephanie gasped as Bertha released her windpipe. She had never
imagined that she would be grateful to hear a large Hispanic man
announce her strip search, but the moment had arrived.
FLASH! FLASH! FLASH!
She felt dizzy as the guards took her mug shots and her prints.
As Eve had predicted, the process was quick, efficient, and
routine.
But there was nothing routine about the procedure in the next
room. "Take your clothes off -- all of them -- and place them
in the carton in front of you. Watch, jewelry, earrings,
undies...everything," the matron barked. "Right down to the
skin."
Stephanie looked incredulously at the matron who had just ordered
her to strip naked. Didn't she notice the four male officers
standing behind her?
"In front of THEM?" Stephanie squeaked.
"Don’t be shy, Goldilocks," the guard cackled. "The boys are
going to be watching you strip, shower, and pee for the rest of
your sentence. You ain't going to have NO secrets from the boys!"
Stephanie blushed as she felt the grinning men behind her
undressing her with their eyes. Her stylish clothes, trim
figure, blonde movie star good looks, and innocent eyes clearly
made her the featured dish on tonight’s menu.
Stephanie looked to her left. Her nemesis, Bertha, was already
down to her baggy boxers. Stephanie winced and took off her
jacket.
Shoes...blouse...skirt...slip...pantyhose...bra...and finally
panties.
The other women were naked long before Stephanie, but no one
seemed to mind. Even the butch female guard was amused at the
sight of the terrified beauty slowly stripping out of her lacy
unmentionables under the bright fluorescent lights and the
watchful eyes of the horny male guards...and Bertha.
She put her fingers in the waistband of her panties and looked up
at the ceiling-mounted cameras. She clenched her teeth as she
imagined Eve smugly watching the video of her surrendering her
final, wispy garment to the control of the state.
She tried to ignore the laughter and wolf whistles as she stepped
out of her lacy underpants and tossed them into the crate in front
of her. Eve had been right. Natural blondes were popular in
prison.
She tried not to think about the prying eye of the camera as she
obediently turned, bent over, and put her palms flat on the cement
floor. She had assumed the matron would conduct the search, but
it was the young Hispanic guard who ordered her to spread her legs.
She winced as his greasy, gloved fingers probed first her exposed
sex and then her anus. Through her widely spread legs, she could
see the man was kneeling to her left, so that the camera recorded
every moment of the shameful probing. She ground her teeth as she
imagined her gleeful rival giggling in the editing bay as she
watched the 19-year-old man leisurely examine her like a 100-peso
puta.
The blue dot would be used in the television version, but Stephanie
knew that the editing would be less than precise. And the home
video version would leave nothing to the imagination.
After the humiliating cavity search, the icy water of the large
gang shower was almost a relief. She closed her eyes and tried
not to think about the ubiquitous cameras, letting the chilly
water ran over her naked body.
"Lemme wash your back, sweet cheeks."
Stephanie stiffened as she felt Bertha’s beefy fingers. She tried
to jerk away, but Bertha effortlessly pulled her back and began
lathering the shivering newscaster’s body.
"Stop your squirming, white girl," Bertha sneered. "Remember you
still owe Bertha a taste of your sweet white milk tonight. And
I'll 'spect you to use that sassy little mouth and sweet tongue on
me, too!"
Stephanie cringed, but Bertha's grip tightened. "If you fights me,
I jus' might have to mark those sweet little buns of yours so that
ever'body knows you my property, white girl." She gave Stephanie's
bottom cheek a sharp warning pinch. "But, if you plays nice, I can
play nice...."
Stephanie looked over at the guards, but they just smiled back at
her. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, as Bertha slowly
worked her thick fingers between the blushing blonde's legs.
Stephanie blushed even more deeply when a grinning male guard
deloused her, paying extra attention to hosing down her crotch.
The pungent aroma made her eyes water, and the burning, itching
spray made her cunt twitch.
Bertha was dressed in blue jeans, prison issue underwear and a
t-shirt, but Stephanie and the other "new fish" were given a
short, sleeveless orange smock and flip-flops to wear before
being marched off to their cells.
******************************
Stephanie lay on her bunk and looked unhappily up at the TV cameras
on the ceiling. Bertha planted a gentle kiss behind Stephanie's
ear and ran her fat fingers through the humiliated newscaster's
long blonde hair. Bertha would give it to her sweetly...if she
did as she was told.
Even as she squirmed under the black woman's touch, Stephanie
imagined her understudy in the warden’s beach house, sleeping her
way to an Emmy award. The warden’s luxurious bed was doubtlessly
more comfortable than the slab that Stephanie had now.
She blushed as she imagined Eve watching the tape of her first
lesbian encounter. The image of the proud blonde newscaster
kneeling between the black woman's legs was humiliating, to be
sure, but she knew that Eve was right. It would make GREAT
television.
Edited by C. Lakewood