THE GIRL IN THE SHOWER by Joe Doe There were close to 50 naked women in the shower -- lathering, scrubbing, rinsing. But Warden Don Walker was focused on only one. She was a cute little redhead, standing in the corner, very assiduously scrubbing her lovely auburn hair. At 31, she was a bit older than some of the others, and her breasts were A-cup. But she had a pert round bottom, a slender waist, and a fearsome blush as she showered under the warden's watchful gaze. The little redhead was still fresh enough to blush. The warden liked that. Bull Watson, the 6'5" chief guard, wandered over to make small talk with the new warden. "See anything you like?" he teased. "That redhead in the corner," Warden Walker said, nodding. "How did she get here?" "Her car, to begin with. She was arrested for multiple mechanical deficiencies. You know -- insufficient washer fluid, subversive bumper stickers, frayed upholstery.... Funny thing. Said she was driving around town lost all day after her phone battery died. I don't know how Scully didn't pick her up; he must have fallen asleep at the doughnut shop again. Anyway, she actually strolled right into the Sheriff's office and asked for directions. Stupid bitch!" "I don't know. She looks smart," the warden said. "She looks butt-naked," Watson allowed. "Still, Little Foxy argued her way out of all the bogus charges we brought against her. Guess she's some sort of fancy lawyer back East. Anyway, the judge finally gave her two six-month back-to-backs for contempt. She don't look so clever now." Warden Walker smiled. He knew the story of the redhead's incarceration. He had actually been in court that day, dropping off a fruitcake his wife had made for the judge. He had watched as the fiery lawyer had demolished the bogus charges against her, flustering the judge (who was a political crony rather than an actual lawyer) with her legal acumen. The judge's final sentence for contempt had been awarded in panicked desperation. Quite unfair, of course, but he slammed down the gavel and nearly ran to his chambers. The look on Red's face as the bailiff locked the cuffs around her wrists was simply priceless. Though he knew the story, he asked the guard for a recap, because he never tired of hearing it. He had been there, too, when she had been brought in for "processing"; he was giving several VIPs a tour of the prison at the time. His male tour group had enjoyed watching the pretty redhead put her feet into the stirrups and spread her legs wide for the matron's rubber glove. He had enjoyed it, too, particularly since her pretty face was almost as red as her fiery red bush. "A burning bush, all hot and juicy," he had joked, as the men laughed, and the prisoner twisted helplessly on the matron's probing finger. Had it really been necessary to delouse her? Probably not, given her freshly-scrubbed appearance and the amount of cash in her purse. But delouse her they did, after her shower, of course, laughing as she sputtered and choked on the chemicals being sprayed on her hair, under her tiny breasts, and up between her legs and bottom cheeks. The men had stood far enough away so that the stench of the delousing agents was only mildly distressing. The foxy lady lawyer was not so lucky. She would be deloused again, of course, at the end of the week. Delousing all the dirty little bitches under his control was one of the weekly rituals in an institution governed by rituals. If the girls ever did get lice, it was from the seedy customers at the cheap truck stop brothel where the warden made them work as part of work-release. But they were regularly deloused anyway, to reinforce the fact that they were dirty...unclean. Warden Walker missed his wife, Beth. He loved her dearly, but she was impossibly prissy, refused to give blowjobs, and, in all the time they had been married, had never granted him access to her bottom. Missionary sex, once a week, on Fridays, was all his "good girl" wife could manage. It had all become so routine, so predictable. In truth, he had been relieved when he found out that she wasn't accompanying him on his 30-day tour as Warden of Honeypot Prison. She didn't really encourage his infidelity, but they had an understanding: what happened in the prison stayed in the prison. She worked in the prison system, too, had been a warden herself, and knew of Honeypot's reputation. She realized that her husband would have to become "involved" in the ways of the prison, simply to maintain his credibility with the men he would be commanding. He hadn't fucked any of his prisoners yet, but he was surely enjoying looking. And he was particularly enjoying looking at the little redhead. Her hair finished, she began to lather her breasts, and Warden Walker smiled as her nipples hardened under the spray. She hadn't always been so thorough. Yesterday she had turned away from the warden when she noticed him ogling her in the shower. He had spoken to one of the matrons, who had slapped her bare bottom good when she stepped out of the shower, before sending her back in to "scrub it clean." She was scrubbing it clean now; was she ever! Breasts, bottom, between the legs. Better yet, she was letting the warden watch, turning and posing so he could watch her caress herself. She was blushing, too, of course, and from the pained look on her face he could tell that she was humiliated beyond words. But, even after only a few days in prison, she was smart enough to do as she was told. "What's her work assignment, Bull?" the warden asked. "She's helping out with administration, reading contracts and shit. Your secretary says she's real smart and saved us a bushel of money on the food contracts on her first day." "I'm sure she did. But our little redheaded Princess isn't going to volunteer for truckstop duty to get out of reading contracts, is she? What else we got?" "We got cotton-picking down at Bueller's Farm and rock-breaking at the quarry. And they're digging out and re-tarring the parking lot at the boys' school." The warden laughed. "Yeah, I was out there a couple of days ago. They dressed the girls kind of skimpy for tarring, not that the boys seemed to mind. They were all hollering and hooting at the girls while they were spreading the tar. Yeah, let's move our little princess out of the office and let the boys have a look at her. She's kind of stuck up, and a little humble pie might do her some good." "You got it, boss. Where should we move her when the tarring is done? Back to the office?" "Naw, move her to the quarry. Let her build up a stink. She got a roommate?" "They put her in A75 with another new fish. Some college girl who claims she was studying something called error-ganic chemistry. They get along pretty good." "Move her. Put her in with fat Bertha." "That old dyke? Why? Bertha will eat her for breakfast." "Let's make her want some privileges. She's too comfortable bunking with Snow White. But don't worry; I think it will be HER doing the eating, not Bertha." "It will soften her up for the truck stop, all right. After munching Bertha's rug, sucking on all those ding dongs will be a piece of cake. You want a piece of her, then, I guess?" "I sure do," Walker said. "I'm going to enjoy that sweet little mouth of hers -- and her little butthole, too. I'm going to do Little Red every which way from Sunday. But I'll let her learn some tricks down at the truck stop for a couple of weeks first, let her learn proper technique. That way when she gives it up, it'll be nice and sweetly done." "Well, you'd better hurry. You're only going to be here a couple of more weeks." Walker smiled. The redhead turned to show him her luscious bottom, still pink from the previous day's hand spanking. He moved in for a closer look as his scrumptious captive lathered her crotch for his amusement. "No, that's the good news," he said, speaking loudly enough for the girl he was ogling to hear. "I was supposed to leave at the end of the month, but I've been extended for an entire year. That will give me plenty of time to enjoy the merchandise." He chuckled as he exited, not bothering to look at the redhead in the shower, who was now frozen with fright. She had told him she was taking a leave from the Bureau of Prisons so she could go with him to his new assignment. But then she had backed out the last minute. When she saw him in court, he hadn't even seemed surprised. She had expected to get sentenced, of course, but, when the time came, and she was actually facing a term of confinement at the notorious Honeypot Prison, her survival instincts had kicked in, and she had fought like a tiger for her acquittal. Not that it had helped her any. It was all a part of the fantasy, of course. In prison, Beth could finally be the bad girl her husband desired, free of the "good girl" restrictions that made her sex life so boring, especially for her. After all, what choice would she have? But she did have choices. She knew that, if she kept her head down and worked hard she could avoid the degradation of volunteering to be a "trucker fucker" as the guards called it. She could avoid doing all those nasty things he wanted her to do. She knew she wasn't going to volunteer for the truck stop. She could hang on; she wasn't going to break. She only had to last a few more days before her husband's assignment ended. Doubtless he would figure out some way to "transfer" her then. If only she could make it a few more days.... And then the announcement came, his words still ringing in her ears: "I've been extended for an entire year. That will give me plenty of time to enjoy the merchandise." Plenty of time to enjoy the merchandise. Plenty of time to enjoy her, and to watch others enjoy her as well. Sweet! ****************************** Two hours later, Beth was tarring a parking lot in the blazing heat, with a dozen 18-year-old boys hooting that they could see her "little titties" through her sweat-soaked t-shirt, while others complimented her on her "nice round ass." She was hot and humiliated, and her muscles ached from the exertion of spreading the tar with the heavy mops. A YEAR OF THIS? She knew she would never make it. "It might not be so bad at the truck stop," she said to herself. "They price the girls low, but that's just because there are so many of us. I'm sure if I work hard, I can compete." Her butt cheeks tightened as she thought of the price of not meeting quota: her pimp's strap accross her bare behind. "Hey, Ginger!" one of the boys shouted. "Nice ass! Keep it jiggling while you work, girl." She clenched her teeth. No, she just couldn't take it. Which left only one question. How soon could she audition for the pimps at the truck stop? Edited by C. Lakewood