Pentonbridge Pig

Chapter 20. Light Reading

Emily eased herself off the hard pallet and paced her tiny cell for what felt like the hundredth time. She squatted, stretched her right leg out behind her and eventually attempted to rub her buttocks against the hard plastic mattress that sat atop her sleeping platform. Nothing helped to ease the frustrating discomfort caused by the stiff chastity belt now secured snugly between her legs. The exhausted girl collapsed dejectedly onto her bed and lay on her back, her breathing ragged and shallow.

Her arms lay limply at her sides, hands cuffed to the thin chain around her belly. She had this infernal belt covering her pussy now, why did she still have to be cuffed. She knew the answer already: protocol. It didn’t make it any easier to accept that it had nothing to do with her personally, that it was just the insanely draconian rules of the prison itself. The belt itself wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. It had been well made and shaped to suit the contours of the female body. It was the anal ring that was causing her misery, not allowing her to surrender to her fatigue and slip into blessed sleep.

The wide ring that was designed to allow her to defecate without obstruction was pushed tightly into the cleft between her legs, putting pressure on either side of her sphincter. She was constantly assailed by the feeling that something was trying to part her cheeks and force her anus open. It was not painful, nor was it of any real concern. It was just uncomfortable and frustrating and the entire issue had become an obsession for the overtired girl. Emily lay silently thinking back on the previous hour, trying to calm her whirling emotions. Thinking about her treatment at the hands of Guard Jennings may not have been the best method of falling asleep but she had little choice.

She had been marched back to D-wing in silence. Emily was still not sure if she preferred the constant abuse of her guards or the total silence they chose as an alternative. The simple absence of noise made her feel tiny and vulnerable and the strict supervision she knew she was being subjected to made her flesh crawl. The rhythmic slapping of the guards thick-soled boots on the slick floor irritated her, each sharp slap felt as if someone was tapping her on the side of the head. It also heightened her own lack of clothing, though now she wore a chastity belt.

Everything now came back to the chastity belt. Emily thought that if she started thinking about the planet Neptune that she would eventually be able to lead the train of through straight back to the infernal plastic device she wore. She had been marched straight into the shower block where Jennings had watched her like a hawk as she bathed, correcting her actions, chastising her for perceived laziness and generally harassing the poor girl until she was once again on the verge of tears.

Emily had tried to slip the towel between the rigid waistband and her skin but there had been no room. She tried her best to dry herself, though small trickles of moisture kept escaping from the cupped section that covered her crotch. There was nothing she could do. She had been made to jump on the spot to shake it all out, but the only real effect Emily had seen was that her breasts had bounced furiously, providing the cruel guard with another reason to degrade her.

She had brushed her teeth and combed her hair before being led back to her cell, hands cuffed to her bellychain and left to her own devices for the rest of the night. The other inmates were already in their cells and she had no idea what time it was. And now, an hour later, here she was still lying awake, unable to get to sleep. The small white light blazed away above her. The cellblock remained the same 24 hours a day. There were no clocks and the lighting never changed. Time became an arbitrary measure for the inmates of D-wing.

Emily sat up yet again. She swung her legs over the side of the platform and hung her head. She longed to be able to rest her elbows on her knees, take her head in her hands and rest in the so familiar position. It was the removal of these small freedoms that weighed heavily upon her in the quiet times in her cell. During the day, while she was at the mercy of the guards, her every movement regulated, she simply had to follow orders and complete whatever task was set her, but in the silence of her cell, with only the aches and pains of her own body as distraction, the real horror of her situation crowded in upon her.

She was determined not to cry again today. Even after her recent shower, her eyes remained sore from the constant shedding of tears. She remembered a statement Doctor Monetti had made and sought out her manual to try and make sense of it. Besides, the melancholy girl thought, I need to spend more time reading this if I want to stay out of trouble. Avoiding room 303 had become Emily’s new goal.

Inspections. Doctor Monetti had mentioned inspections and the term had stuck in Emily’s mind ever since. She retrieved the slim volume and sat cross-legged on her pallet, a position that seemed to place the least stress on her new garment. It was difficult to turn the pages but with a constant shuffling of her upper body she was able to flick through the small book without too much trouble. A heading caught her eye and she paused to read.

Cleanliness

Hygiene and cleanliness are integral aspects of an inmate’s daily duty. To keep oneself clean is a sign of respect for the officers of the institution charged with the supervision of all aspects of institutional oversight. The cleanliness of an inmate constitutes a condition for the conservation of its health. A lack of hygiene is a sign of vulgarity, a lack of respect for one’s superiors and marks one as an object of repulsion.

The lack of hygiene is a manifest source of bodily illness and is a most certain cause of deviant and behavioural vices. An inmate is charged with keeping its body unpolluted to enable the fulfilment of its sentence with a minimum of disruption to its ability to be commissioned for any task to further the penitential industry.

What the hell was this drivel? She could not believe she was supposed to read this entire book. If it was all like this she felt there was little she could possibly learn. She skimmed the next passage and was gratified to spot what she was after. A note to refer to the section on Inspections directed her to the page she was after. A few frustratingly constricted twists of her body later and she had found the page. She sat with her hands together at her belly and leant forward to read once more.

She glanced at her breasts as she leaned towards the book, noting how the twin mounds of soft flesh curved invitingly as her arms pressed them together. Emily marvelled at the way the harsh white light glinted off the smooth contours before realising what she was doing. What is the matter with you, she admonished herself. After all she had been subjected to that day, here she was admiring her own body. Not only that but in a sexual way. There was no denying that she had felt the familiar warm glow inside her; the fuzzy feeling inside her chest that filled her with confidence whenever she admired her figure in the mirror after a shower, or in a particularly fetching outfit. She desperately tried to ignore her own feelings and focus on her reading.

Blah, blah, blah, inspections held regularly, blah blah blah, carried out by duty officers. This was what she was after. Half way down the page, after all the technical bullshit that she could not see any possible use in knowing was some information that she knew was worth committing to memory.

Inmate Inspections: Body & Body Cavity Inspections

An inmate, upon being selected for a body or body cavity inspection will stand at attention and await the inspection team. All inspections are conducted with due diligence and will follow a standard procedure. The inmate will be inspected for infractions in the following sectors:

Hair and scalp

Mouth and nose

Fingernails

Toenails

Vagina

Anus

Hair and scalp: at the pronouncement of the first sector the inmate will kneel. The hands will remain in the small of the back, if unrestrained. The knees will be shoulder width apart and the left ankle crossed on the right. The inmate will rise upon the pronouncement of the second sector.

Mouth and nose: the inmate will stand at attention. The head will be tilted back at a 30 degree angle. The inmate will open its mouth and extend the tongue. The inmate will return to attention at the pronouncement of the third sector.

Fingernails: the inmate will stand at attention. The left arm will be held against the left side, the forearm extended forward at a 90 degree angle. The fingers of the left hand will be spread and the palm held flat. The right hand will remain in the small of the back. Upon direction the position shall be reversed. The inmate will return to attention at the pronouncement of the fourth sector.

Toenails: the inmate will stand at attention. The left leg will be raised until the upper thigh rests at a 45 degree angle to the torso. The foot is to be flat. Upon direction the position shall be reversed. The inmate will return to attention at the pronouncement of the fifth sector.

Vagina: the inmate will stand at attention. The legs of the inmate will be spread past the width of the shoulders. The inmate will bend at the waist and grasp each ankle. The inmate will ensure the legs are straight and the vagina is unobstructed. The inmate will return to attention at the pronouncement of the sixth sector.

Anus: the inmate will stand at attention. The legs of the inmate will be spread past the width of the shoulders. The inmate will bend at the waist and grasp each ankle. The inmate will ensure the legs are straight and the anus is unobstructed. The inmate will return to attention at the pronouncement of the sixth sector.

Stupid, was Emily’s first thought. Why stand up and bend over again, but there was no real vehemence in her argument. Reading about how she would be forced to display herself for an inspection had made her feel queasy. The fact that her body was to be scrutinised in such detail, that her flesh was to be probed and prodded and manipulated like some inanimate piece of meat caused her to fight back the tears that were, by now, all too familiar. She did not particularly want to, her curiosity fading fast now the reality of her search was clear, but she kept reading. At least she now knew the procedure, she wouldn’t get caught out standing around like a deer in the headlights and getting herself into God only knew how much trouble.

She skipped the bland descriptions of what was to be done to her until the passage marked ‘Vaginal Inspection: Requirements’. She sat staring at the heading for some time, not wanting to go on, but knowing she had to. There was a strange fascination she could not fight. It’s sick, she told herself, only wanting to read about those bits. Emily knew she was fooling no-one. If she could not be truthful to herself then all was lost. Even alone in her cell, her back turned to the bars, the young girl blushed as she began to read about what she knew would happen to her sooner or later.

Vaginal Inspection: Requirements

Once the inmate has adopted the appropriate attitude, the inspection will begin. The vulva is to be inspected for evidence of bristling. Confirmation of pubic hair growth will result in a depilatory scheduling. The vulva is subsequently to be inspected for evidence of lesions, swelling, or reddening. The labia are to be parted and the clitoral hood to be drawn back. Evidence of encrustration is to be sought within the folds of the labia.. The vaginal opening is to be inspected for evidence of unwarranted penetration. The vagina is to be probed to ascertain the absence of foreign bodies. Evidence of sexual activity is to be reported. Confirmation of unhygienic practices is cause for correction. Indication of sexual activity is cause for correction.

So whenever they felt like it, the guards could prod and probe her sex and call it an inspection. At least while she was wearing the chastity belt her vagina would be off limits. Emily looked down between her legs at the band of cream-coloured plastic that covered her sex. She could see the tiny vertical lines that allowed air to flow over her pussy and would also allow her urine to trickle away. She could feel her tag resting against her left labia and cringed at the thought of it moving against her soft flesh as she moved.

It had been a humiliation to be made constantly aware of its presence, dangling as it did from her pussylip. Walking or prancing had made it even more noticeable as it lightly brushed her thigh or twisted on its ring. The piercing still stung every now and then but it was the mental anguish of being tagged like an animal that Emily struggled to deal with. Now she could not see the tag, but she could feel it more acutely, its smooth metal surface pressing against her plump lips.

What did they mean by ‘indication of sexual activity’? How could anyone manage to do anything in this environment. The guards watched them every moment of the day. They were cuffed at night, unable to reach between their legs. Emily looked around her tiny cell. She could see only one way that she could even come close to pleasuring herself. If she squatted over the far corner of the bed, the rounded corner of the plastic mattress would give her the best chance of stimulation if she could set up a good rhythm.

What the fuck! Emily closed her eyes and took three deep breaths. She was losing it, clearly losing it. Her thoughts were constantly turning to sex in some kind of self-fulfilling prophecy. She didn’t want to be the slut the guards portrayed her to be. She didn’t want to lose her dignity or her self-control. It was just that she was so tired, she had just been reading about vaginas and the chastity belt was an ever-present reminder of her sexuality. The reason it had been forced upon her didn’t matter, she was wearing it now and she had to make the best of it.

Her mind wandered back to her fitting, sparking a new train of thought. She flicked through her manual once more until she found what she was looking for. On the page before her was an array of the chastity devices utilised at Pentonbridge. The section read like a catalogue, the attributes of each design listed to the left of the image of the belt itself. There was the belt she had been fitted with: C17. Emily turned back one page and shuddered at the sight of one item in particular.

The C6 was a chastity belt that, on the outside, looked identical to the one she currently wore. The image that showed it broken into components, however, told a very different story. Where the anal ring was situated on her own belt, the side view provided showed an egg-shaped plug. A long, thin probe also protruded inside the belt at the entrance to her pussy. Emily skimmed the features of the wicked device and was truly thankful that she had not been fitted with this model.

The C6 was designed to prevent the inmate from urinating or defecating. A catheter was to be inserted into her bladder and the large oval plug would fill her ass, removing one of the most basic freedoms available to anyone. Emily shivered at the thought of her bodily functions being regulated in such a way. Right now she had to demean herself each time she wished to void her bladder. She had so far managed to avoid anything else but she knew the time would come, and soon. To be unable to have control, to have another person hold such power over her body, made Emily pale at just the thought.

“Pig.” The softly spoken word startled Emily, causing her to almost fall off the narrow pallet. She spun around and scampered to her feet, quickly finding the yellow circles on the floor and stood at attention. “Enjoying your new attire pig?”

“No Guard Coteaz Ma’am,” Emily replied timidly, her eyes fixed firmly on the shining black boots of the guard.

“What a surprise. That stinky puss is well out of bounds. No doubt a slut like you is having a lot of trouble with that fact. Poor little pig can’t play with her cunt. You fucking disgust me pig. And don’t think about trying to get a different model,” snapped Coteaz, noticing the manual open on Emily’s pallet. “None of them let repulsive sluts play with themselves, it’s the whole point of the unit. Dumb shit, pig.

“Oh I get it pig,” sneered the stocky guard as she stared through narrowed eyes at the forlorn girl standing naked before her. “You’re daydreaming about having that plug up your ass. Well a note shall shortly be made on your record indicating as much. I would not hold out any hope of getting anywhere near those particular models.”

Emily grit her teeth as she was forced to listen to her curiosity being interpreted as yet more deviant behaviour. She was dying to scream at this bitch, at any of these bitches, to just fuck off and leave her alone. That’s all she wanted: to be left alone. She would happily serve her sentence, toiling in the fields, if they would just leave her be.

“What the fuck was that pig? Get over here,” bellowed Guard Coteaz. “Well?” she reiterated once Emily had stepped meekly forwards, her breasts almost touching the metal bars of her cell door.

“Nothing Guard Coteaz Ma’am,” said the bewildered girl.

“Fucking nothing pig, I saw it. Don’t you fucking lie to me. A cunt and a liar. Pig five strokes assault. You better start behaving pig. No one likes an out of control bitch. I see you display such anger again and you will not get off so lightly.”

Emily’s eyes followed the tip of the black shock baton as it was waved in front of her face. She was waiting for it to dart between the bars and leave her squealing in pain on the floor. She was being yelled at for displaying anger. How the fuck was that assault? She had been angry but… how could a feeling be assault. Despair flooded through her, destroying the last vestige of strength the young girl had. Danger lay behind every word or action and she had to learn the rules before she lost her mind. For now, though, the damage was done.

“Now put that book away, stop fantasising about filling up your filthy holes and get that fat ass into bed. I suggest you get your fucking act together pig. Wasting a day of work is not something to be proud of. Get over here pig.”

Emily dropped her manual on the tiny shelf at the far end of her cell and scurried back to the bars. The terrified girl squealed as the powerful guard reached through the bars and grabbed a handful of her hair, roughly yanking her face forward until it was pressed painfully into the unyielding metal bars. With her hands secured to her belly chain, Emily had no way to control her own body. Her right breast squeezed through the bars as if in offering to the vicious guard.

“Stop poking that at me pig,” snarled Coteaz, viciously twisting Emily’s hair, causing the young girl to turn to the side, her breast scraping the cold metal, sliding obediently back through the bars. “You ever show me such disrespect again and I will shove this baton so far up your ass the fillings will be shocked out of those shit-stained teeth. You got that pig?”

“Yes Guard Coteaz Ma’am,” Emily replied, her terrified croak barely above a whisper.

“I just don’t get you pig,” the cruel guard said more calmly. “You’re a total degenerate. You make some trailer trash slag look like the Queen of England and you think you have the right to get angry at your treatment. You are scum. You are a piece of shit that has no rights. Do you understand that pig?”

Emily stood silently, her head twisted painfully to the side, her face mashed into the bars of her cell. She had bent her knees to try and take some of the pressure off her scalp, but Guard Coteaz had simply twisted harder. It had all happened so quickly that her brain had not quite caught up. She was so completely at the mercy of the other woman and it was all she could do to prevent her hair being pulled out at the roots.

“Pig,” Guard Coteaz screamed in Emily’s ear, almost deafening the girl and surely waking the other inmates on D-wing, if they had not already been roused by the altercation.

“Yes Guard Coteaz Ma’am, I understand that I am a piece of shit that has no rights,” Emily grunted when she finally realised that she had been asked a question that she was expected to answer.

“Then why did you think getting angry would be tolerated. A piece of shit has no place in being angry now does it?”

“No Guard Coteaz Ma’am.”

“Well then?”

“Um, I don’t know Guard Coteaz Ma’am,” Emily mumbled as the guard turned her head and mashed the abused girl’s lips against the rounded metal surface.

“It is because you are a stupid retarded cunt that is less intelligent than a wad of spit. Do you think that could be right?”

“Yes Guard Coteaz Ma’am.”

“Well there you go,” said the stocky guard as she spat in Emily’s face, “now you have some company. Try not to let it outwit you too badly.”

Emily stumbled away from the bars, the slimy mass of spittle sliding slowly down the side of her cheek. She could do nothing as the guard’s saliva slid over her closed mouth. She baulked but kept her lips pressed firmly together. The thought of the guards spit entering her mouth made her shudder in humiliation.

“Pig, your lack of courtesy only reinforces your vulgarity. If you can thank some random gutterfuck for pumping his sperm inside you, then you can thank me for my gift of companionship,” said Guard Coteaz, the menace in her casual tone clear to the frightened girl.

“Thank you Guard Coteaz Ma’am,” Emily stammered, gagging as the glutinous discharge slid into the edges of her mouth.

“Don’t eat it pig, you silly fuckwit. It’s the only friend you are going to have for a long time. Don’t you dare wipe your face pig. If you don’t appreciate my gift I will be deeply offended and I just might lose my sunny disposition.”

With that parting threat the stocky guard walked away, leaving Emily standing in the centre of her cell, weeping silently. The shocked girl collapsed onto her pallet once the sadistic guard was out of sight, curling up into a ball, careful to keep the right side of her face upturned. She could feel the guard’s spit lying on her cheek and lips and was appalled by what she was being made to do. She lay there silently, disgusted and humiliated. Ashamed of what had been done to her and angry that she had forced the confrontation through her stupidity and poor behaviour. Her first day was at an end and she had learned a great deal, all of which she prayed she could forget.