Prison Transfer

MM/F
Watersports      ws
Exhibitionism    exhib

PRISON TRANSFER

By Francine

 
Marcie Hamilton was not happy to be where she was. She was a
forty five year old divorcee, decent looking, not especially
pretty, but not overweight.  She felt her ex-boyfriend had
betrayed her, her lawyer had let her down, that she was unfairly
treated by the judge.  She had a lot of company. In fact, more
company than there should have been.  She found herself in the
Women's' Correctional Unit serving a one year sentence for check
fraud. She spent her time complaining about why she was there,
why she detested the place, but most of all, the governmental
bureaucracy which, she felt, frustrated her every move with
delays, mishandlings, lost files, and procedures she simply could
never fathom. There were entirely too many inmates, it seemed,
and to reduce to the legal capacity, a number were being moved to
a new facility several hundred miles away.  She was, she had been
told, to be one of those.

In midmorning, a guard approached the cell Marcie shared with
three other women.  Her name was called. "Marcie- that you? 
Yeah, your number checks.  Look, Marcie, the time has come for
your transfer. It'll probably be later today. I need to get you
ready."

"Ready to leave this stinking place?  Gladly!  What do I do?"

"I want all your personal belongings in a plastic bag, here, this
one.  I'll be back for it in twenty minutes.  Everything goes in
it except the uniform you're wearing.  Everything - you are not
allowed to carry anything with you.  You wearing your own
underclothes?"

"Yes, I am. What of it?" Marcie replied, a bit of antagonism
showing.  "Take 'em off. They go in the bag.  Or else you won't
have them when you get there.  The bag with your stuff goes to
your new home separately - you'll get it back when you arrive. 
I'll seal it and you sign the seal, so no one touches it.  But
anything not in the bag stays here - got that?  That means
hairpins, shoes, everything.  Until you leave, you go barefoot
and braless - understand?"  The female guard was clear and firm.
Marcie understood.  She put all of the things she had in the bag,
including her underwear and shoes.  As instructed, she had it
ready for pickup when the guard returned.

Having disposed of her rather simple belongings, Marcie was left
in prison uniform - pants and a jacket, lettered with the
institutional name.  Her feet were bare, and under the prison
suit she wore nothing.  She waited. And waited.

At lunch, she received the usual prison fare.  It was summer, and
warm.  The trip would be long, four or five hours was the guess,
as the prison vans were known to travel back roads and at
unpredictable times to frustrate attempts at interceptions and
possible escapes.  She fortified herself with extra glasses of
fluid, anticipating a hot trip.

Afternoon came and went.  Evening approached.  Marcie waited.  No
one came for her, there was no message, nothing.  "Figures", she
reasoned aloud, "everything they do is screwed up.  No one knows
what they're doing around here.  Probably took the wrongperson!"

Dinner time. Another guard came for Marcie, to tell her the van
for that day had been filled.  They couldn't take another inmate.
 She would go the next day.   "What about my stuff?" Marcie
fumed, I don't even have a toothbrush!"

"Your stuff went without you.  You'll get it back when you
arrive.  You'll make do with what you have for the night. 
Tomorrow you're going anyway."  "When tomorrow?" Marcie inquired.
 "You should know the procedures - you'll get fifteen minutes
notice.  We don't announce departure times in advance."  "Great!"
Marcie answered, then thought a bit, "I don't even need fifteen
minutes - I haven't even got a hairpin to pack."

The next day, Marcie went to breakfast in anticipation.  She
really looked forward to a new location, and while the ride
wouldn't be any luxury trip, at least it would be several hours
on  the outside. That would be a relief in itself.

At ten thirty Marcie received the summons, and ten minutes later
a guard arrived to escort her to the transfer station.  First she
was taken to a room, where she was told to strip before two
female guards. It didn't take long, she had nothing on but the
prison jacket and pants.  She was quickly inspected, and
pronounced ready to go.  She assumed that meant no contraband had
been found. Her escort inquired, somewhat kindly, if she would
like a drink, pointing out that the ride would be long and hot. 
"This is your last chance, Marcie.  I can't promise you will even
get lunch." She was taken briefly by the lunch room. It was not
meal time, but an assortment of fruit juices were available,
along with a pitcher of tea.  Warned that she might have to skip
lunch, Marcie appreciated the offer, and drank several glasses of
what was offered.  "At least", she commented, "if I don't eat, I
won't have an empty stomach."

She waited a few minutes, and was taken to a room from which an
outside door could be seen, well locked.  Two uniformed male
officers were waiting in chairs.  A stern-faced female clerk sat
behind a counter.  Marcie was told to stand while paperwork
formalities were handled.

The two men, she perceived, were those who operated the prison
system van.  They had come from the new institution (dubbed Unit
#4) to pick her up.  The clerk yawned as she plodded through a
pile of paperwork.  Errors were found.  Phone calls were
necessary.   Time dragged on. The clock on the wall showed twelve
thirty.

The clerk was impatient.  "It's almost my lunch hour - I want to
get her out of here and you guys on your way.  All right, I think
we've got everything cleared up.  Now let's see the uniform you
brought for her!"

"Uniform?" the first officer inquired. "They didn't give us any
uniform."

The second officer intervened.  "She was supposed to go on the
van yesterday. That crew had the uniform for her. Didn't they
leave it?"

"I got no uniform for her" the clerk insisted.  "Rules are, when
you pick up a prisoner, you bring a uniform for them."

"Well", the first officer replied, "we don't have one. If the
crew yesterday didn't leave one, then I guess she has to go in
what she's wearing".

"Oh, no, she doesn't!" the clerk stated emphatically.  "That
uniform she's got on is marked for Unit #1, which is us.  That
uniform is ours, it's charged to us!  We've got no uniforms to
give away - we're overcrowded and short of everything, including
uniforms.  When we transfer a prisoner, the new institution has
to provide the uniform, and she puts it on here.  What you bring
for her has to be a prison uniform, marked for your place.  That
uniform she's wearing doesn't leave here!"

They argued back and forth.  Phone calls were again made.  Voices
rose.  Marcie waited, still standing.  The clock showed well past
one.  The clerk was increasingly irritated as this was going into
her lunch time.  The two officers were anxious to get going. 
Marcie was tired standing, and now, after all the liquid she had
drunk, was feeling a need to relieve herself.  She interrupted,
"Please, it's getting late.  May I please use the bathroom?  I
need to, before we go!"

The clerk looked at her without sympathy.  "Look, sister,
legally, you have left here.  You've been turned over to unit #4,
which is these two officers here.  You cannot go back through
that door.  As far as I am concerned, you are gone already.  All
we are discussing is that uniform you have on!"

She turned back to the two men, leaving Marcie standing. "Well,
what do you propose to do? She's yours to take, but the uniform
stays here!"

The men looked at each other.  "I guess she has to go in her
underwear.  We've got nothing to give her, and she has to leave
the uniform here.  Look, we've got to get going!" 

The Clerk interrupted.  "In case you unobservent types can't
tell, she's not wearing any underwear.  What she had went with
her personal stuff yesterday.  Look, I don't care what you do -
take her naked if you want to, but she has to leave the uniform
here; and I want to get you guys out of here!"

The two men looked at each other and shrugged.  The clerk looked
at Marcie.  "Let's have the uniform", she demanded, "and then
you're on your way."  She reached out her hand.

Marcie was dumfounded.  She was tired of standing, her full
bladder was uncomfortable, and now she was being ordered to take
off the only clothes she had on in front of the clerk and two
men.  She started to protest, then thought better of it.  This
was going nowhere, and the longer the argument went on, the more
uncomfortable she would be.  Gingerly, turning her back to the
men, she unfastened the jacket, slipped it off, and placed it in
the extended hand of the clerk.  

The clerk pointed to the pants.  Slowly, still with her back to
the men, she unfastened them and let them drop.  She stepped out
of them, and handed the pants to the clerk.  She stood, barefoot
and stark naked, trying to keep her back to the men, holding one
hand across her breasts and trying to cover her pubic area with
the other.

"OK, she's yours.  Take her away!" the clerk demanded
impatiently.

The men spun her around, not too roughly.  "Hands behind your
back" she was instructed.  Plastic cuffs were fastened to her
wrists behind her back, ending the use of her hands to retain the
last vestige of her modesty.  She blushed furiously, and trembled
a bit.

Quickly they ushered her toward the door. "Please," she pleaded,
"before we go, I need to go to the bathroom - pretty badly. 
Please let me - "

"Not here, sister!" said the clerk with a note of finality.

With one officer on each side of her, Marcie was walked, nude,
through the opened door and to the van a few feet away.  She
glanced about, noting that at least there were no other persons
nearby.

The men opened the door of the van, and guided her up the steps.
Inside, there was a long bench on each side.  There were windows,
covered with heavy wire mesh.  A screen of heavy wire mesh
separated the area for the passengers from  the drivers area in
front.  Marcie realized she was the only passenger.

The senior of the two men addressed her, as he locked the door
behind her.  "Look, Miss Hamilton, or Marcie, or whatever you
want to be called.  We're just doing our job, but we've got to
follow the rules.     Fortunately for you it's warm, so you won't
catch cold.  I wish we had a uniform for you, but we don't, and
we're not allowed to provide you any clothing other than a
uniform, so you're going to be like you are for the next four or
five hours. I have no lunch for you, but you'll get fed when you
get there.  We do have some ice water, so you can have a drink if
you get thirsty."

"No, thanks.  I don't need any water. I've got too much in me
now.  Please, I'm very uncomfortable.  Isn't there some way you
can let me go to the bathroom?"

The men looked at each other.  The first one went on.  "Not here.
That's already been discussed. Usually we make a bathroom stop
after the first couple of hours, if we can find a gas station
with a secure women's restroom.  Then we let the prisoners use it
while we stand guard.  I don't know what we're going to do with
you, though, because you're not dressed to be taken outside.  And
the cuffs have to stay on, even in the van. That's the rules.  If
you want a drink, we'll get you a cup and a straw, and hold it
for you.  But, as you say, your problem right now isn't a lack of
water!"

"Please", Marcie begged, as they started the van, "I 've got to
go!  No way can I hold for four or five hours - I'm not sure I
can hold for thirty minutes! I drank an awful lot of liquid back
there, and after all the time we waited, I'm ....  well, I'm full
up ... down there.  If you make me wait too long, I'm going to
leak, and it'll be in the van!"

The second officer chimed in sternly, "You'd better not leak.
We'd have to write that up as a discipline infraction, and you'd
get penalty time for it.   Now, for a while, just hold it.  We'll
see if we can think of something."

Marcie sat, squirming a bit, on the hard wooden bench.  She was
glad she was facing the center of the van, so her back was toward
the window.  Anyone looking in, though, would see her naked back
and know she was bare in front, too.  With her hands bound behind
her, she couldn't even attempt to cover her breasts, which could
now be viewed easily through the opposite window.

Again she pleaded.  "Can't you at least cuff my hands in front,
so I could use them at least a little cover?  It's bright
daylight, and people are going to be able to see me! Can't I have
any modesty at all?"

"Rules say," she was firmly told, "hands to be cuffed behind. 
Try pulling your knees up in front of you.  We don't want to
create any traffic jams, either."

She did it.  She slid down a bit, put her feet on the bench, her
knees in front of her.  The position was uncomfortable with her
cuffed hands.  She squirmed a bit more, feeling the increasing
discomfort of her gradually stretching bladder.   

The van rolled on, through side streets and small towns. Several
times it stopped at stop signs or traffic lights, and several
people spotted Marcie in the back.  She thought of lying on the
floor, but the best she could do was try to cover up by using the
position of her legs.  Her arms were a bit cramped from being
continually held behind her.  But her most gnawing concern was
the increasing load in her bladder.  It had gone beyond just
discomfort, and was now hurting her noticeably.  She bit her lip
and gritted her teeth, trying to hold on, her pelvic muscles
clenching ever tighter.

Again she pleaded with her guards.  "Please, please; let me go to
the bathroom.  I have to pee so bad it hurts!  I'm trying hard to
hold it, but I just won't be able to much longer! Please?"  She
was asking as nicely as possible.  She heard the two men
discussing together, but she couldn't make out what they were
saying..

"When did you last go?" officer number two asked.  "Not since
about eight this morning, and I drank at least a quart of juice
and tea because they told me I wouldn't get any lunch! Please, it
hurts so bad!"   "Eight this morning? Well, it's two thirty now,
and we've got at least four hours to go. You've lasted over six
hours - I suppose it's only fair we give you a break.  Tell you
what - sit up and stop covering yourself for the next thirty
minutes and we'll let you have some relief!"

"Another half hour?" Marcie moaned, feeling her pain increasing.
"I'll try, but why do you need me to sit up?"   

"Look, lady, this wasn't our idea.  But you're putting on a show,
whether you like it or not, and we'd sort of like to see some the
reactions in this little town we're coming up to.  We're going to
stop there for a few minutes!  If you're lucky, we'll sneak you a
sandwich!"

"I don't need a sandwich - I need a bathroom!  Please, please,
let me pee!"

"Told you the rules.  Play along and you'll get a bit of relief."
 She sensed that the two men were rather enjoying thissituation.

Shortly, they stopped in front of a convenience store with a
small crowd around it.  Anxious to alleviate her torture, Marcie
sat up, erect, as she had been told. Her bare breasts were
clearly exposed in the bright sunlight coming  through the
windows.  She held her legs tightly together. She looked down at
herself; with her legs pressed together, only a tuft of pubic
hair could be seen in her crotch. 

One of her guards spoke to the other, "Joe, you go in first.  You
can get a couple of sandwiches, including something for our
passenger, here.  I think it would be nice if you got her a big
drink, too - one of those sodas that comes in the extra large
cup.  Take your time - there's a mens' room to the left, if you
want to take a leak, first.  I'll stay and watch our cargo!"

Joe left, going to do as suggested.  Marcie fumed.   "You guys
are torturing me!  You know I can't afford to drink a drop.  I
hope some day you have to hurt like this!  Please, please, have a
little mercy!   You get to go to the bathroom when you want -
just let me go!  Please" .  She was  quivering in her pain, her
legs squeezed together, her breasts prominently displayed as she
sat erect in front of the window, her hands cuffed securely
behind her back.  Her guard smiled a bit.  "You'll get your
chance if you go along with us.  He's getting the means of your
relief, but you'll have to be patient.  Oh, look, I think you're
getting an appreciative audience!"  

Several teenagers had spotted the van and Marcie inside.  They
came running over, peering in the windows.  There were about six
boys and a couple of girls.  One of the girls put her hands to
her face and shrieked.  The boys just stared, then began an
agitated conversation among themselves. Marcie wanted to sink
into the floor, but remembered her instructions.  She sat rigidly
erect, biting her lip in her agony, as she tried to remain a
still as possible.  The boys looked her over thoroughly. Soon,
others joined them.  A crowd was assembling around the van. 
Marcie reflected just a moment on her appearance.  Apart from her
nakedness, she considered herself a bit of a mess.  Her hair was
uncombed and she hadn't been able to even smooth it with her
hands.  She had no make-up.  She was perspiring a bit, and since
she had no deodorant she suspected she was developing a bit of
body odor.  She wasn't overweight, but she knew her breasts
sagged a bit and jiggled noticeably whenever !
 she moved.

Marcie sat in agonized distress for what seemed an eternity. 
Finally, Joe came back, carrying a bag evidently containing his
purchases.  He entered the van.  "Here we are, Lou - everything
we wanted.  Hope I didn't make you wait too long.  You want a
rest stop, yourself, before we pull off?"

Lou nodded. "Yeah, I guess I'll make a quick run for a leak. 
It's going to be a long trip. You take care of our lady, here."
With that, he exited the van and leisurely walked to the
restroom.

Joe opened the door in the screen to the rear of the van.  He
held out to Marcie a large cup of cold soda, a size probably
holding a pint, with a straw in the top of it.  Also, he had a
sandwich in his hand, unwrapped.  "OK, here you are.  And here's
the deal.  I'll hold this, and you drink it through the straw. 
You get it all down and eat the sandwich.  I'll hold 'em for you
while we drive.  If you drain this cup, we'll let you use it.  We
can't take you out with no clothes on, but we'll try to stop and
you empty yourself of as much as the cup will hold.  That ought
to let you feel a little better!"

Marcie grasped the idea.  She was in no position to negotiate. 
"You mean you want me to pee into the cup, after I drink the soda
out of it?  I don't know how I can - my hands are tied; I
couldn't even hold it.  And the way I feel I could probably fill
it a couple of times over - it may overflow-"

"Oh, no, it won't."  Joe instructed her.  "You get to pee one cup
after you drink it empty.  One cup in, one cup out- get it?  You
get it right, and maybe in an hour or so we'll find a place where
we can take you for a walk, like you do a doggy.  If you don't
like doing it that way, we'll just let you squirm!"

The eyes of the crowd continued to peer in at her.  Her internal
torture was making her quiver and sweat.  She just wanted to get
going, and any amount of relief she could get was better than
this. She took the straw in her lips, leaning forward, and sucked
in the cool liquid.

Shortly Lou returned, expressed satisfaction at his own relief,
and they were on their way, leaving the gaping crowd behind.  Joe
drove, leaving Lou to hold the soda out to Marcie.  After she had
drawn several long draughts into her, he withdrew the cup and
held out the sandwich.  She took a bite.  He alternated the soda
and the sandwich.  She continued to fidget and squirm in her
torment as she consumed her meal, eagerly awaiting the promised
relief.

At length she had finished the sandwich and the plastic soda cup
was empty.  Her stomach felt filled, but her bladder felt as
though it was a basketball protruding out of her pelvis.  She
couldn't touch it, but she knew she was hard and swollen.  Again
she begged, "Please- you promised!! I finished the drink. 
Please, let me pee. Don't you two care?  I'm in pain, and it's
getting worse! I just can't keep holding it!"

As they drive along a stretch of rural road, Joe brought the van
to a stop on the roadside. "Lou, why don't you take care of her
now - maybe it'll stop her fussin' for a while!"

Lou came around the van and opened the rear entrance door.  He
was holding the large cup she had emptied. "Come here," he
commanded her.  "Stay inside the door, and squat - spread your
knees as far as you can.  And you'd better be neat, or we'll just
forget all about it." With that, he placed the cup under her
pubic slit, holding it just a couple of inches from her body. 
"You can let out as much as the cup will hold, but keep it tidy -
I don't want any mess!"

"With you holding it?" she asked quizzically.  "You can't hold
it, can you?" he answered.  She had to agree.  She tried to relax
her clenched pelvic muscles to release her bladder.  To her
dismay, they wouldn't work.  She couldn't let go.  She tried
pushing, relaxing, nothing happened.  Lou got tired of waiting. 
"Thought you were yelling you had to go so bad.  Looks like you
don't need to go at all.  Well, either do it, or give up."  
Marcie was sweating profusely.  The pain in her bladder was
severe, but she couldn't relax enough.  Maybe it was because Lou
was looking directly at her genitals, and occasionally taking in
the rest of her exposed nakedness.  Maybe it was because the
internal pressure was so great it took time to relax.  Marcie
continued to plead.  "Please - just give me a minute.  It's so
full, and I've been holding so long, it's hard to relax enough to
let it start - please, just a little patience with me!"  In a
moment she was rewarded.  Lou commented, some!
 what wryly, "Well, look at that!  She really does have some pee
in her!  I was beginning to think you were just faking it!"   At
first a few drops left her, falling into the cup.  Quickly this
became a thin stream, then a strong one.  Marcie relaxed a bit,
feeling a touch of blessed relief.  It was short-lived.

"OK, that's it.  Stop it - now!  That's all you get for now!"  
She clenched hard to stop the flow, finding it even more painful
to stop than it had been to hold.  Somehow she managed.

Lou withdrew a cup brimming with foamy yellow urine.  He
inspected it briefly, then dumped it on the ground.  He again
locked the door, and returned to the front seat of the van.  They
started up.

Marcie was only slightly relieved.  She was still very
uncomfortable with the distention of her bladder, but it was not
quite as bad as before.   She wished there had been some way to
wipe herself, as she could feel the wetness of urine clinging to
her genitals and pubic hair, but she was glad for any form of
relief.  She was afraid to complain, for fear that they would
deny her another opportunity.

After a few minutes, she dared to ask, "Will you give me another
chance to use the cup?  I really still  need to go badly!
Please?"

Joe replied.  "Marcie, we gave you a good chance.  We threw out
that cup - you smelled it up too bad for us to keep it inside. 
But you be a good girl, and in an hour or so we'll see if we can
find a place to take you for a doggy walk."

Marcie knew argument was fruitless.  She sat, squirming a bit,
trying to hold on.  She figured that the cup she had let out was
probably a pint, and she was trying to imagine how much had been
in her.  The relief had been far from complete, and she had been
compelled to drink a pint of soda to get it.  Her bladder was
still uncomfortably distended, and the aching pain was beginning
to come back.

She closed her eyes, fidgeting with her bound hands, anything to
distract herself from her internal distress. Nothing really
worked.  Oh, how she just wanted to get it over!

Suddenly she felt the van come to a stop.  Her eyes opened.  They
were on a narrow, unpaved side road that appeared to have
branched off the highway.  There was nothing around but trees and
bushes.  Lou turned to her, "Ready for a doggy walk?" he
inquired.

Eager for relief, but a bit suspicious, Marcie answered softly,
"You bet! Can I get out?"

"Right here, and right now - but you only get a few minutes, so
you better take care of your problem now - it's the last chance
you'll get on this trip!"

The two guards opened the back door.  She was instructed to turn
around, presenting her back to them.  They reached for her hands.
 Marcie hoped they were going to take off the handcuffs. She
quickly found she was wrong.  One of the men had a length of
rope, which he quickly tied to her cuffed hands. Once this was
secure, she was allowed to step down from the van.

Gingerly, she stood on the rocky road in her bare feet.  The
rocks were sharp, and they hurt when she put her weight on them.
The two men positioned themselves on each side of her, one
holding each arm.  Joe fastened the opposite end of the rope to
his belt, thus insuring that she could move only a few feet from
them.

They walked her around to the front of the van, then a few feet
down the road.  "Think you can pee here?" Lou asked her.  She
nodded, adding an emphatic "Yes!  Anywhere will do!" She started
to squat.  Lou pulled her up.

"You stay standing.  I want no funny stuff.  Just spread your
legs and let go while we hold you. If you can't do it that way,
you go back in the van! OK - now do it!"

She tried to obey.  She spread her legs, standing erect.  Joe
moved away from her by the length of the rope, standing where he
could watch her from the front.  "Do you have to watch me?" she
asked.  "Do you just want to go back in the van?" Joe replied.

She found it a bit easier to release this time.  She felt herself
blushing as her urine started to pour from her, Joe watching with
interest from in front of her, Lou bending over to watch as her
held her arm from the side.

Oh, the wonderful feeling of relief, she thought.  Here she was,
standing nude on an isolated road, cuffed and linked a rope,
urinating while standing up with two men watching.  She couldn't
imagine such a situation before.  It was horribly humiliating,
but maybe just a little arousing.

The stream poured and poured.  Joe seemed irritated.  "Hurry it
up, or we'll just make you shut it off and go back in the van" he
addressed her, rather roughly.  She pushed, trying to make the
strong stream even stronger.  It seemed it was going as hard as
she could make it, falling between and just a bit in front of her
legs.   A big puddle was accumulating.  Her feet were standing in
it, and she felt the warm water all over them.  She was spraying
all over her legs, and could feel the wetness on her thighs.  The
stream seemed like it would never stop, but her bladder ache had
ceased.  Gradually the stream slowed and then stopped.   Joe said
one word, "Through?"   She nodded.

They led her back to the van, admonishing her to wipe her wet
feet on the grass at the edge of the road.  She climbed in,
feeling a bit relaxed for the first time since the ride began. 
They untied her rope leash, and she sat on the bench again. The
van started up.

Now that her bladder problem was relieved, her attention focused
on her nudity.  While the men gave her occasional glances, she
was more concerned with those outside who continue to glance and
then stare when they realized a naked woman was inside.  While
she had little escape, as she could only change her position to
escape the gazes, she felt the stares as though they were
physical intrusions, and was always glad when the van moved away
from them.  At times there were cars which tried to keep pace
with the van, so as to keep its passenger in view, but they were
never able to do so for long.  She was thankful that the van had
no rear window, for that would have encouraged pursuers.

At length they reached their destination, the new Women's
Correctional Unit; and they stopped at the gate.  Immediately two
guards approached the van, looking inside.  An exclamation
escaped them, as they saw Marcie.  "Look at this!  Our new
inmate, and she's bare naked!  When did they start bringing them
in like this?"

An exchange between the guards bringing her and the ones at the
gate ensued.  The van proceeded through two gates and into a
courtyard area.  Word of Marcie's condition had evidently
preceded her arrival, as a fair sized group of guards and staff
had assembled in the courtyard.  The rear door was opened, and
Marcie was led out.  She was made to stand outside, waiting,
while paperwork was shuffled among the guards and prison
officials.  The others standing by, a mix of men and women, had
their eyes fixed firmly on the naked prisoner standing before
them.  It was indeed a show to which they had not been previously
treated.

Marcie was made to stand and wait for over half an hour, before
being ushered into a room inside. She was sure the process had
been  prolonged to assure that everyone present got a good view
of her. Inside, she was made to stand before a desk while further
details were handled.  No one offered her any form of cover.

At long last, a guard took her into another room and spoke to
her.  "I'm supposed to strip search you, but in this case it
looks like that would be superfluous.  Let's get you some
clothes!"

END

Review This Story || Email Author: Francine

MORE BDSM STORIES @ SEX STORIES POST