October 17

Dear Diary...

You showed up in my first care package, and since I'm not doing anything else, I might as well write in you. =)

Lemme tell you a bit about myself.  I'm Casey, Casey Shepherd.  I'm, 19, really tall...5 foot 11 to be exact (yay tall me!), weigh about 150 lbs, slender and toned from playing volleyball and softball, straight blonde hair, blue eyes, freckles, 38c, size 10 feet.  In the winter I like to go snowboarding.  If you haven't figured already, I'm a big tomboy. 

All this trouble started about 4 months ago.  I had just finished finals and it was the start of Summer Break.  I had been efficient over the previous week, and had all my dorm furniture shipped home, so all I had to do was dump clothes and other things in the back of my car and get the hell outta there.  My parents had bought me a new car midway through Senior year of high school as being accepted into University on a softball scholarship.  Can I tell you how much I love my car?  It's a Cherry Red Volkswagen Jetta, and my dad had splurged on the sport version, since in his words "I didn't have to pay for your school, so I had to spend your college savings somewhere!"  Isn't Dad so cool?

Anyways, I was driving home.  I didn't take the highway this time because my roommate had told me about this shortcut.  She said it would take 3 hours off my travel time since I wouldn't have to sit in traffic getting out of the city.  The shortcut was mostly this long, straight, country road.  I double-checked with the GPS in my car and it checked out, so off I went!

Long story short, I go down this country road, get pulled over for speeding, and then arrested for resisting arrest!!!!  I'll admit, I gave the cop a bit of attitude, mostly out of frustration at myself.  But come on, a couple sarcastic comments and jokes about Sarah Palin is worthy of arrest?!??!  It all happened so fast too!  One minute, I'm sitting in my car.  Next minute, I'm yanked out and cuffs are squeezing my wrists as I'm shoved up against the side of my car.  I cussed like a sailor, which probably didn't help my case, as he kicked my feet apart and started his patdown search.  It was a hot day, so I was wearing summer clothes.  A pair of knee-length khaki cargo shorts and a white cotton t-shirt, a white bra and a pair of pink boyshorts.  Shoes were a pair of black Converse Chuck Taylor sneakers and white ankle socks.

The cop gave me a quick, rough patdown search, I don't think he was worried about me having anything dangerous on me.  "I don't like people who get snotty, you're under arrest for resisting arrest.  And I'm still gonna ticket you for speeding."  Resisting arrest!!!  Holy shit!!!

A sudden jerk backward pulled me off my car and I led by a firm hand on my bicep, leading me to the back of the idling police car.  The door was opened, and a shove down on the back of my head forced me to bend at the waist, lowering my head enough so I didn't bang it getting into the car.  Another shove forced me into the car, and I settled in the cramped rear bench seat, my butt getting sore from the hard plastic.  I twisted my hands in the cuffs, but a sharp pain forced me to wince and gasp as the steel bracelets of the tightly-locked cuffs bit into my skin.  A slam of the door left me alone to my thoughts, only the police radio breaking the silence.

I sat there for about a half-hour, while Mr. Dick Cop did a slow, thorough search of my car, I'm a good girl so he didn't find anything.  About 20 minutes in another cop car pulled up, coming through to check things out.  I gave both officers a nervous stare as they glanced over at me, obviously enjoying a funny joke or story since they were both laughing pretty hard.  I leaned back, resting on my cuffed arms as I sighed, just wanting to get this over with.

Officer Prick finally finished dicking around and came back, opening the door and climbing into the driver's seat.  He let out a chuckle as he put the car in gear and got back on the road, saying over his shoulder at me.  "You're in luck.  You might be able to take care of this today, Judge Carter's heard about your little situation and decided to keep court in session a bit late."  He turns over his shoulder and grins.  "Bad news is he doesn't like city folks with attitude problems."  I stayed quiet, a sinking feeling in my tummy foreshadowing what happened next.

20 minutes later we pull up to this building that is the jail, sheriff's office, and courthouse all in one.  Prick pulls the car into a sally port and waits for both doors to close before I'm jerked out of the car and taken for processing.  Nothing special here, fingerprints, mugshot, random paperwork.  Since I was to be immediately arraigned, they didn't bother making me put on a jail uniform.  They just replaced the officer's cuffs with ones the jail used, heavy hinged ones, and locked a pair of 3-foot legirons around my ankles.  I was then led into the courtroom.

Judge Carter is EVIL!!  He's this angry old guy with crazy white hair.  I stood there, looking up at him glaring down at me, as he rants about what he feels is wrong with young people.  While he ranted, a guy ran in, up the aisle, and stood next to me.  He whispered in my ear that he was my Public Defender, and he'd worked out a quick deal that I'd plead guilty to Misdemeanor Resisting Arrest, in exchange for being sentenced to time served (which was really nothing).  So basically, I'd plead guilty and walk out.  Score!!  I quickly agreed, and as soon as the arraignment was read my lawyer announced the deal, which the Prosecutor quickly agreed to.

Judge Carter glares down at me, and asks me if I plead guilty.  I eagerly nod, answering "Yes, yes your Honor."  He asks me a couple more questions, then had the plea agreement entered into the record.  It was official...I'm outta here!!

Or so I thought.  Judge Carter just keeps glaring down at me, then extends a scraggly finger and points, bitterly spitting down at me.  "Young people like you have no respect.  No respect for the law, no respect for elders, no respect at all."  If I wasn't so nervous I'd probably be stifling giggles at the awesome Rodney Dangerfield impression.  He paused, took a sip of water, and continued.  "What both Counselors seem to have forgotten, is that I decide sentencing."  He retracts his finger, then picks up his gavel.  "Maximum sentence as allowed per state law.  6-months, North Haven Correctional."  He bangs the gavel and stands up, looking down at me as I stand there, mouth wide open in shock, as the bailiffs come to escort me away.  "Hopefully some time away will rid you of your attitude problem."

The next 4  hours was a complete blur.  I was prepared for transport, a heavy waist chain slipped around my waist, my wrists locked to the chain, another chain running down from the small of my back to the center of the hobble chain on my legirons.  I was locked inside a transport van, the type where prisoners sit in the back, basically locked in a cage, no windows or anything.  I could only sit there and cry as I heard the van start up and felt it jump forward, heading off for parts unknown.

A while later, I had settled into a fitful nap, which I was suddenly jolted out of as the van came to a stop.  The only ventilation in the back was a couple of air vents allowing the hot, muggy air to circulate.  There was no light shining through the air vents, so I figured it was really early in the morning.  I heard a muffled voice exchange, then felt the van jerk forward again, driving slowly on what sounded to be gravel.  The van stopped, engine shut off, and I looked toward the rear doors as they were opened, revealing a couple guards.  "Welcome to North Haven," they said.  "Step out and onto the yellow line."

I was thoroughly scared at this point, so all I did was nod my head up and down and slide along the metal bench seat toward the rear opening, chains clattering and scraping against the metal floor and bench.  I feel a grab on my bicep to steady me as I slowly step out, having to be careful or the legirons will pull taut.  I stand up straight, swinging my head around, finding myself inside another sally port, unable to see any outside environment.

The two guards, one from the county jail, one from the prison, peer at me as I stand up straight.  I don't like being stared at, so I gave them a sneer and said "Take a picture, it'll last longer."  Why...oh why, did I say that?

The prison guard, his name tag said 'GARNER', just laughed at my comment.  He turns to his counterpart and asks "Carter really loves sending the uppity snotty ones here, doesn't he?"  The other guy just nods his head up and down, still looking me over.  Garner looks back at me and smiles, then gets in close to my face and half-whispers, "You fucked up little girl, you'll realize that."  He pulls his head back, then grabs my bicep and gives it a tug, jerking me along toward a door, stenciled painted letters reading 'PROCESSING.'

And that, dear Diary, is how I came to end up here at North Haven Correctional Facility.

Alright, it's a couple minutes to lights-out, so I think I'll wrap this up for now.  I'll write again, diary.  But I hope you liked my first entry.

Casey the Jailbird

------

October 18

Hey Diary,

You know what the one advantage is of being here?  Whole ton of free time.  If I was able to study I'd probably graduate by the time I get out of here!  Does get boring though.  I can't even see the Sun, the sorry excuse I have for a window is scratched-up plexiglass so I can't make anything out.

Anyways, on with my story.  So, I was handcuffed with a waist chain and legirons, stumbling into the Processing room.  I have long legs, so I was having all sorts of trouble walking being hobbled.  But I luckily made it without falling, because I really don't think that Officer Garner would have held me up if I fell, and the concrete floors here are HARD!!

Back to Processing.  Nothing special, just a long counter, separated with partitions, a painted yellow line on the floor about 3 feet in front of the counter.  Another guard was sitting at one of the terminals on her side, looking me over and giving me all sorts of stink-eye.  She points to the floor in front of the counter and snaps "Toes on the line!"  I nod, shuffling forward, sliding the toes of my sneakers right up to the yellow line.  A clatter of keyboard clicks as she, a bitchy-looking woman, her nametag showing her name as 'WALLACE', starts to bark questions at me.

"Name?!?!?"

"Casey Shepherd."

"Age?!??!"

"19."

"Occupation?!?!?"

"Student."

A glance up, and a snap.  "That's not an occupation!! Do you work?!?!"

A slight hesitation, then I shrug.  "Well...going to school's work in my opinion.  But technically, no."

She goes back to her typing, giving me an obnoxious little sneer as she shoots back.  "Oh I'm sorry honey, I didn't realize that being a college girl was a real job."

Another slight pause, and I give another indifferent shrug "Sorry, don't be all mad at me that you weren't able to go to college.  Bad grades?"  Once again, I'll admit it.  I have an attitude problem.

The clatter of keys stops and she looks up from the computer screen, shifting around and resting her arms on the counter, leaning forward at me and smiling.  The two other male guards are standing on their side of the counter, grabbing mugs of coffee from the machine and listening in intently.  "Nobody told you about North Haven, did they?"  A shake of my head confirms her belief.  "I thought so.  Look college girl, the state has specially sanctioned this prison for more...strict policies."  She grins.  "I won't get your hopes up, you'll find out what I mean soon enough."  She turns back to the computer, finishing up and finalizing the intake file quickly.

I wince as I twist my hands again nervously in the cuffs, wondering what's so special about this place.  It didn't look at all special.  Boy...was I wrong.  Officer Wallace stepped around the counter and grabbed me roughly on my bicep, giving me another rough jerk, spinning me around.  She walks me to the rear brick wall of the room, and I let out a grunt as the side of my face and my upper body is shoved against the cinder-block wall.  "Feet away from the wall!!  Spread your legs!!"  she commands.

I let out a little whimper, my cheek sore from being pushed hard against the wall.  I slide my sneakered feet away from the wall and slowly side them apart, my butt thrust outward, my long legs spread.  I let out a surprised gasp as I feel her hands roughly paw and grope over my body, giving me a more thorough patdown search.  The quick click of locks signifies that my cuffs and chains are being removed, confirmed as the handcuff bracelets are slipped off my hands, my wrists quickly grabbed and pulled upward, my hands pressed to the back of my head.  "Lace your fingers inmate!!  And don't move!"

I guess that's when it became official.  I was an inmate...

Anyways, I quickly laced my fingers together tightly as my legirons were unlocked and pulled off, and a rough yank on my hands pulls my face away from the wall.  I hear another snapped command "Strip inmate!!"

I heard Officer Wallace walk away, boots clunking on the concrete floor as she retreats.  I sniffle softly, wiping a tear from my right cheek.  I use my feet to slide my sneakers off, sliding them away with my foot as I pull my t-shirt up over my head, dropping the shirt down on top of my shoes.  I unbutton and unzip my cargo shorts, sliding them down my legs and stepping out of them, sliding them over to the pile.  I reach behind my back, my trembling fingers fumbling to undo the bra clasp.  I finally undo it, sliding the straps down off my shoulders, happy that I'm facing the wall as my breasts bounce free of my chest.  The bra joins the pile as I bend down, picking up my feet one at a time and pulling the socks off.  I hesitate, then hook my thumbs into the waistband of my boyshorts, pulling them down my legs and into the pile, standing completely naked, my back to them.  I clasp my hands behind my head again, my cheeks burning red.

Officer Wallace walks back, chuckling with her two male buddies as she pushes forward on my hands, pushing my forehead against the wall.  She's put on some latex gloves, and starts to run them over my naked form.  I whine and whimper, scrunching my eyes shut and start to chew on my bottom lip, my toes curling into the concrete floor.  I yelp and jerk, going stiff as I feel her fingers slide into my smooth, totally shaven pussy, wriggling my hips as her fingers explore my insides.  I relax slightly as I feel the fingers slide out, letting out a howl in pain as she shoves them up my rear, completing the cavity search.  I feel the fingers slide out and hear the snap of the glove being removed, then hear another command.  "Turn around inmate, your new uniform is on the ground."

I nod again, sniffling and fighting the urge to cry.  I slowly turn around, lowering my head, my eyes widening as I see the prison uniform, a baggy, bright orange jumpsuit, the fabric threadbare and cheap.  A pair of matching bright orange boxers and bright orange sports bra lay next to the jumpsuit.  I pick up the boxers, whimpering softly as I slide my feet into them, pulling them up my legs as I hear a laugh as Officer Wallace says "I noticed you like to wear boy's underwear, so I thought that you'd like those."  I'm too embarassed and scared to answer as I pull the boxers up over my pussy and bottom, then pull the sports bra up over my head, slipping my arms into it and pulling it down over my breasts.  I pick up the jumpsuit, running my fingers over the rough, scratchy material.  I pull the front zipper down, noticing that my name and a set of numbers have already been stenciled onto the fabric.

After inspecting this hideous piece of clothing for a second, I start to put it on, first by sliding my legs into the legs of the jumpsuit.  I pull it up, then slide my long arms into the sleeves.  I frown as I zip up the jumpsuit, the jumpsuit at least a size too big, the arms a couple inches too long and covering my hands, the legs half-covering my bare feet.  I look up at the guards, who all burst out laughing.  Officer Wallace, who's apparently the one in charge, is the first to speak.  "That looks freaking ridiculous!!!  We'll have to take precautions so she doesn't trip."  The other prison guard, Garner was his name, just nods in confirmation, then bends down, unlocking and opening a cupboard underneath the counter, and starts to pull out a number of steel restraints, pairs of hinged handcuffs, shackles, many lengths of chain, and heavy steel padlocks are dropped onto the table as I look on, eyes widening as the pile grows.

Officer Wallace lets out a demeaning little "awwwwwwwww" as she walks back over to me, reaching up to give my hair a humiliating ruffle.  "You see, those tough-on-crime politicians up at the Statehouse needed a new program that appeared even more tough on crime than the past.  So, about 3 months ago they developed a new policy to be tested here.  Discipline through restraint."  She grins as she stares right into my wide-open, frightened eyes.  "Apparently they think that severe restriction of any activity will motivate an inmate to be good."  She reaches up, giving my freckled cheek a couple soft pats.  "And since you decided to be Little Miss Attitude, you get to be our first Level 1 inmate."

I gasp, starting to shake my head, my mind frantically trying to figure out a way I can weasel my way out of this.  Seeing no way to escape, I try a more verbal method.  "NO!!  That's horrible!!!  This is so totally illegal!!  I haven't even gotten a phone call!!!  I want my phone call!!!  I want my lawyer!!!  This is cruel and unusual punishment, and I SHOULD NOT be subjected to this!!!!"

Officer Wallace just stands there for a moment, stoically watching and listening to me yell and protest.  She soon tires of it (concrete has such bad acoustics), and casually pulls her taser from her belt, stepping back a couple feet and pointing it at me, commanding in a loud, harsh voice "Inmate Shepherd!!  You will CALM DOWN and you will GET ON YOUR KNEES WITH YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD!!  If you do not comply there WILL be consequences.  Your family will be contacted by prison personnel."

Now I've seen people being tazed, and it doesn't look fun at all.  I decide that becoming the Energizer Bunny isn't worth it, and quickly raise my hands up in the universal sign of surrender as I frantically call out "Alright!  Okay!!  Just don't taze me..."  I slowly lower myself down onto my knees, sitting my butt down on my heels as I bring my hands down and behind my head, clasping them behind my head.  As soon as I settle down in position, Officer Garner strides up, a couple pairs of hinged handcuffs in hand.  He drops one set on the floor, and snaps the other around my right wrist.  He squeezes the bracelet tight, then yanks both arms down behind my back roughly, snapping the other cuff around my left wrist.  He squeezes both tight and double-locks them, my hands tightly locked together behind my back.  I kneel there silently, trying to get used to being cuffed again, and emit a yelp in pain as I feel him pushing my elbows closer together.  I feel the cold embrace of more steel locking around my right bicep, just above the elbow, then feel my left arm being locked the same way.  I tug and groan, my arms tightly cuffed at the wrist and elbow, shoulders pulling back in their sockets.

Officer Wallace was rummaging through another cupboard on their side of the counter, and now comes striding up to me.  I lift my head and look up at You, wincing and gasping as steel cuff bites into my wrists and arms, pinching my skin painfully.  She looks down at me and smiles "Nothing in the Constitution specifically says that we cannot disallow you a phone call, nor does it say that ANY treatment is 'Cruel and Unusual Punishment."  She ruffles my blonde hair again and grins, "So don't worry, we're not violating your civil rights.  And if you think that those meddlers in Washington are going to do anything about it, it's gonna take at least another year for the Supreme Court to make a ruling."  She gives me another obnoxious sneer, "So who's the dumb one now college girl?"

The whole time I had been wondering what this nasty bitch had been hiding behind her back, and as she finished her little speech she revealed her secret.  It was like nothing I had ever seen, it was some sort of leather harness, a series of thick leather straps, dyed or stained bright orange to match the rest of the uniform.  Attached to this network of straps was a black rubber piece, large, and shaped like a pair.  The narrow end was set into a curved leather panel.  I stare at the bright orange strap harness, eyes going as wide as saucers as Officer Wallace decides to explain what it is "This, inmate, is a state-approved oral restriction and punishment device.  In other words, it's a gag for that smart mouth of yours."  She positions the harness straps, the bulbous end of the pear-plug placed right against my lips, my eyes crossing as I stare down my nose at it.  "Open up inmate.  If you don't you WILL get the taser."

I whimper softly as I get the command to open my mouth, wriggling my hips as Officer Garner continues with my restraints.  He slips a length of heavy steel chain around my waist, pulling it tight around my hips and locking it in front of me with a padlock, the chain locked tight so it doesn't slip down.  He locks my wrist cuffs to the waist chain, using a short length of chain to keep my arms fully extended, but my hands locked against my body. 

At the same time, Officer Wallace has roughly and unceremoniously shoved the pear-plug into my open mouth, the bulbous end forcing my jaws to spread open painfully wide as it's worked past my teeth.  She keeps pushing, pressing against the back of my head for more leverage, the bulb popping past my teeth, allowing my jaws to relax somewhat as the plug is pushed into my mouth.  I fight back the urge to gag, emitting a series of muffled gurgles as the gag is pushed in, the solid rubber mass plugging my mouth.  I whine and mmph softly as the guard starts to buckle the harness straps, first pulling a pair behind my head and yanking it tight, the thick straps digging into my freckled cheeks as the plug seats itself deeper.  I chew on the hard gag, letting out another soft mmph as I lift my eyes, peering at this cruel female guard as she brings the head harness up, making sure my nose is centered in the leather triangle formed by the face straps.  She pulls the straps up over my head, yanking the two sets of buckles tight, straps digging into my face and head, ball forced upward as well as in.  She smiles as she takes the chin straps in her hands, threading it under my chin, YANKING the straps tight.  I gag, mmphing in pain as the strap forces me to bite down hard on the plug.  Officer Wallace grins as she takes the final buckle and YANKS it tight, tightening down the curved piece, which I have now figured out is a super-severe mouthplate, specially constructed of a curved panel of steel encased in a layer of bright orange leather.

I lift my eyes and emit a soft, pathetic little whine as Officer Wallace stands back up.  She smiles over at her partner Officer Garner, who has taken a break from cuff and chain duty to watch the gagging.  I peer up at Wallace, my eyes widening in horror as I hear from behind me, "What? You can't get it tighter?"  Officer Garner laughs, obviously having a bit of workplace fun with his partner.  "I thought you said you were one of the boys!!"    

I shake my head frantically, whining and mewing into my gag, my sounds muffled by the plug and the mouthplate, any noise from my mouth deadened to a mere fraction of my normal voice.  Officer Wallace takes no heed of my soft pleas, giving Garner a punch on the shoulder.  "Oh yeah!  Well check this you lazy fuck!"  She grins, bending back down, starting to go through each buckle once again.  She unbuckles the strap, then gives the strap a YANK!!!, then re-buckles the strap.  She goes in sequence through each strap on the harness, each strap being tightened down at least one notch further.  I scrunch my eyes shut and start to cry, tears running down, dripping over the mouthplate sealing super-tightly over my lips and cheeks.  Officer Wallace stands up straight again, looking at Garner "That good enough for you, chauvinist bastard?"

I whimper, barely able to be heard.  I twist my head around and look over my shoulder, peering at Officer Garner as he inspects the gag.  He tugs at each strap, finding all of them stretched around my head.  He nods and shrugs "Good enough if you're my 95-year old grandma."  He laughs again, grabbing my elbow cuffs, giving them an upward yank to pull my butt off my heels.  I scrunch my eyes shut, air hissing sharply in and out of my flaring nostrils from the sharp pain shooting through my arms.  I feel the cuffs of my jumpsuit's pantlegs being tugged upward a bit, then feel the cold bite of a pair of thick heavy steel legirons, much more heavy and strict than normal legirons.  I hear the clatter of a long piece of steel chain, hearing the click of a padlock as one end is locked to the middle of the heavy hobble chain.  The other end of the chain is locked to the junction where my wrist cuffs are locked to my waist chain, the chain long enough to allow me to stand, but just there to add more weight to the restraints and exert another level of control.

Apparently, this new state program pulls out all the stops.  I watch helplessly as Officer Wallace walks back up again, this time holding a thick band of bright orange leather in her hand, a sturdy lockable buckle on one end.  I lower my eyes, looking at this new surprise in her hand.  She doesn't even bother explaining what it is, I only figure out what it is as she slips it around my neck.  My eyes widen, feeling the thick collar press against my neck and throat as Officer Wallace tightens the buckle and secures it, using a small brass padlock over the buckle to secure it.  I feel the squeeze of the collar of my neck, the collar still allowing my head to twist and tilt, but allowing for another anchor point with it's four rings, two each in the front and back, the other two anchored to either side of the collar.

I continue to kneel there as both guards walk away, my knees sore from being on the hard thick concrete, feeling the squeeze all over my form.  I steal a peek at them as they walk onto their side of the counter again, Officer Garner grabbing yet something else, Wallace checking something on her computer.  She looks up and gives me a grin.  "Almost done inmate, then we'll take you to the Level 1 section."  She shakes her head as she prints something out, placing it in my file.  "You picked the wrong day to be a problem...you know how long it takes to get off Level 1?   Oh, and Judge Carter will probably increase your sentence, Level 1s are allowed punishment beyond the state maximum."

I shake my head as I listen, my eyes wide, absolutely terrified.  I couldn't believe what was happening.  I was going home!!!  For summer vacation!!!  For three months all I was gonna do was sit around and be lazy and hang out with my friends!!!  How'd I end up here, locked in steel, with this torture-gag strapped into my mouth.  I start to squirm and fight against my restraints, hearing the clinking and jingling of all the locks and chain and cuffs, but naturally nothing gives even an inch.  As a final insult, Officer Garner walks back over with a final length of chain, crouching down behind me.  He locks one end to the ring at the back of my collar, then lets it drop down behind my back.  He locks my elbow cuffs to where they meet this new chain, locks my wrists to it where they meet, and finally lock the end to the waist chain.  He stands up, walking back over to his side of the counter, taking a sip of his coffee.  "You know the one thing I don't like about this new program?  Too much goddamn work!"  Both guards share a laugh as they work on the final paperwork.

It was done.  I was completely helpless.  I was locked in a network of steel, all extremely tight, the immense weight of all the steel locked onto me acting as both an extra security measure and a reminder of how severely I was restrained.  I sniffle softly, my whimpers and whines barely audible, coming out sounding like a muffled squeal.  Officer Garner comes back, picking up my clothes and placing them in a bag, locking them away so I can retrieve them when my time is up.  Officer Wallace walks up at the same time, holding a length of chain in her hand, a snap clip in one hand, a leather loop riveted to the other.  She clips the leash to the ring on the front of my collar and gives it a tug, "Stand up inmate!!"  I whine softly at the command, rising up off my heels, lifting one foot and placing it flat on the floor.  I grunt into my gag as I struggle to lift myself using just one leg, wobbling as I try to keep my balance.  I emit a groan as I slowly rise to my feet, all the chains clinking.  I lower my head, eyes widening as I stare at my bare feet, locked together with just a 6-inch hobble chain between my shackles!!

Both guards laugh as they hear my panicked whines.  Garner pipes in, "Get used to going slow inmate, those'll be on for a while."  I shudder and squirm, looking down at my bare feet, sliding the toes of one foot over the top of the other, repeating the process as I stand there nervously.

Officer Wallace looks me up and down, then gives the leash a jerk.  It serves a dual purpose, forcing me to stumble forward on my strictly-hobbled legs, and forcing me to bend down at the waist, shoulders slumped forward in a humiliating, submissive position.  "We've got a batch coming in right now inmate, we'll keep you here and get you settled after we finish the others."  She gives my head another ruffle, "You can be the perfect example to the new girls to keep them from misbehaving."  She gives the leash another tug and starts to walk forward, forcing me to hobble and shuffle along behind her.  She leads me a few feet to the wall, placing me in front of a series of height marks.  She picks up a digital camera and takes a quick picture, uploading it to the computer, she inspects the final picture and grins, "Awwww, you look so good in that gag inmate.  You don't have that attitude anymore, do you?"

I whine and shake my head, having totally regretted every single decision I made today.  Officer Wallace takes the leash in her hand again, giving it a tug.  I stumble forward again awkwardly, steel clinking noisily as she leads me toward a corner of the Processing room.  "We need you out of the way," she says as she gives the leash a firm downward tug, forcing my knees to buckle.  I yelp into my gag as my knees bang heavily on the floor, sniffling again as a tear runs down my cheek.  Officer Wallace unclips the leash, and locks the front ring on a collar to a ring set into the wall.  She walks away, leaving me there, chained, gagged, kneeling, sitting on my heels, facing the corner.  I try to turn, but I wince as I'm jerked to a stop, the lock on my collar preventing me from pulling my head away from the wall, or allowing me to rise off my heels, locking me in position.  I whimper softly, leaning forward and resting my forehead on the wall corner as I hear a door open, noise filling the room as both guards and new intakes enter, the intake process starting in earnest.

I really couldn't tell you how long I was kept like that, but I have since learned that two batches are processed a day.  The morning batch, of which I was the first, is processed and held throughout the morning until lunchtime at 1:30, at which time the first batch is led off to their new cells.  The afternoon batch continues through until at least midnight the next day.  So, that being said, I had to kneel there FOREVER.  I never figured out what time I arrived, but I'd estimate that I was locked there at least 6 hours.  The whole time I felt the stares of the other new girls on me, too humiliated to even lift my head as I listened to their hushed whispers, all of them wondering, what I did to get locked up like this.  The last new inmate finally processed, and none of them in the same situation I'm in, all the guards line them up, having cuffed, waist chained and shackled each one of them, 3-foot lengths of thin chain running from the back of one girl to the front of another.  I lift my head as Officer Wallace unlocks my collar from the ring, clipping her leash to it and giving it a tug.  I grunt as I rise back up to my feet, groaning as I wobble, my legs weak from being folded for so long.

Another tug on the leash gets me stumbling forward, as I'm led to the front of the room, right in front of the counter.  My tall stature makes me fully visible to the entire room, all the other new girls staring at me.  Officer Wallace climbs up onto the counter, starting a stern speech about how girls how have attitude problems are dealt with, and that I'm an example of what happens.  My cheeks burn a bright red under the mouthplate crushing my lips and cheeks as the guard continues her lecture, again reminding all the new girls that they don't want to end up like me.  The guard climbs down, tugging me along again, leading me to the back of this long line of new girls, locking the leash to the back of the girl's waist chain.  I whine softly, forced to bend at the waist.  I keep my head lowered, lifting my eyes every so often to peek at the girl in front of me, looking over her shoulder, staring at my predicament.

I hear the jingle of chains and the shuffle of prison sneakers as the line is slowly led out of Processing into the main prison.  The line of girls winds like a snake inside the Processing room, and I only start moving a few minutes after the procession starts.  I stumble forward, forced to hobble along with just 6 inches of movement allowed between my feet.  I struggle to keep up, sweat rolling down my forehead as my nostrils flare.  I make the turn into the main cellblock, a roar of laugher erupting as everybody gets a good look at me, hobbling along pathetically, clad in the bright orange ridiculously-sized jumpsuit, locked up to where i can barely move.  I keep my head bowed and scrunch my eyes shut, trying to shut the sounds of the laughter out as I continue my hobble, bare feet sliding on the smooth concrete floor.

The process of getting the new girls in their cells takes a while, because the entire line has to be stopped, the new girl unlocked from the line, and put into her cell.  Yeah, this new state policy requires that all the other girls have their wrists cuffed and ankles shackled, but nobody's restrained nearly as severely as I am.  I make my way through the prison, hobbling through each of the cellblocks as the line of new girls is led in, stopped, and inmates assigned to the block are moved to their cells.  It ends up with just me and my tormentor Officer Wallace again.  She grabs underneath my chin and pulls my head up, forcing me to stare at her as she says. "As punishment for your continued insubordination and repeated disrespectful acts earlier, you've been sentenced to solitary confinement for 3 days."  She chuckles, giving the leash another tug, leading me along.

Solitary confinement?!??!  3 days?!?!?  I won't be able to even see anyone for 3 days?!?!  I panic for a second, but then re-think my situation.  Solitary confinement...that's not THAT bad, right?  At least I won't have the other inmates laughing and taunting me all the time, and it's only 3 days, right?  Power of positive thinking, that always works.

Soooo, wrong.  So very very wrong.  I continued my slow, tiring hobble as Officer Wallace leads me to a section in the far corner of the prison, then through a thick solid metal door, which leads to a set of concrete stairs descending into darkness.  I hesitate at the top step, whining softly into my gag before another harsh tug forces me to step down gingerly, carefully stepping down on hobbled ankles as I descend the 30 steps or so, bottoming out in a narrow hallway, dim lightbulbs the only source of light, the sound of water dripping into puddles on the floor echoing through the hallway.  I look around, chains jingling as I shiver, the air in this dark, well-insulated, deeply-buried space a frigid 50 degrees or so.  Officer Wallace smiles at me, "Welcome to solitary inmate.  Be lucky it's only 3 days, I could have said a week."

I shiver in the cold air, the thin cheap jumpsuit fabric doing nothing to protect me from the cold.  I rub my bare feet together in an attempt to keep them warm, grunting as yet another strict tug forces me to follow, hobbling through the narrow dim hallway, chains jingling, my bare feet making splashing noises as i step into puddles of freezing-cold water dripping from the pipes above.  I'm led to the very last cell in the hallway, the door creaking open on rusty hinges.  I look inside, and wail into my gag as I see my new accommodations, a tiny, 5-foot by 5-foot cell, not even big enough to let me lie down fully in.  A dim, yellow light bulb flickers in a corner, set high up close to the ceiling.  No trace of a bunk, pillow or even a blanket, the freezing cold, wet concrete floor the only sleeping surface.  A disgusting, foul-smelling toilet is in a corner, whether it even works is up for debate.

Officer Wallace tugs me into the tiny cell as I make my wide-eyed inspection, unclipping the leash from the collar.  She reaches up again, giving me a demeaning pat on my cheek as she says, "Don't worry.  Someone will feed you once a day, and a trustee will help you go to the bathroom at that time.  And someone will let you out in three days, unless you piss someone else off, cuz then it can be another week."  She grins, walking out of the cell, pushing the door closed, the lock slamming down loudly.  I listen to the fading footsteps as the guard makes her way back down the hallway and up the stairs, leaving me alone, completely helpless, locked securely in my web of steel, the gag exerting complete control over my mouth.  I hobble around the small cell for a minute or two, scrunching my nose as I take in the disgusting scent of the toilet as I near it.  I hop and hobble to a corner of the cell, dropping onto my butt, curling up into a tight ball in a futile attempt to keep warm in my freezing cell, knowing that I'm in for a miserable 3 days.

Welp...that's it for right now too Diary.  If you're wondering how I'm able to write in you, I just got upgraded from Level 1 a week ago!!  All the other girls get some time out of their cuffs to do stuff, Level 1s just get to dream about not being cuffed.

Anyways, catch you later!!

Jailbird Casey

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