The Wheels of Justice

Disclaimer:

Any resemblance of characters in this story to anyone living or dead is probably no coincidence, as this is intended to deliver some long-overdue retribution. The idea for this tale started out in a silly conversation, as I suspect many story ideas do. It was a discussion along the lines of, “If we were in jail, who would be whose bitch?” And though it provoked much amusement, I also knew I had my vehicle for delivering a certain brat’s comeuppance. The tone and setting of this story is a bit rougher than my usual. So if a non-consensual punishment is going to disturb you, I suggest you skip this piece. However rest assured the posting of this was known and accepted by the miscreant in question, and more importantly, it was wholly deserved. *vbg*

by Alyx

“I’ve had it, brat. Now you’re going to get it.”

The threat was spoken in a menacing tone, but not in a raised voice. It was not the scream of someone challenging an opponent to a fight, it was the grim acknowledgement of someone about to deliver on a promise. And though spoken at a low volume, it was soon taken up and passed on down the line.

“Woo-hoo, you hear that? Callie gonna give her bitch a little limbo time!”

“Ooo, bitch, you done push her too far this time! Your ass is grass, girl!”

“Eh honey, come hook up with me! I treat you better than that.”

The hoots and catcalls and laughter echoed around the cells till everyone within hearing range knew that Calyx was about to punish her “bitch” Loki. Most of the inmates at Yountsville Women’s Minimum Security Correctional Facility – known to inmates as “the Bucket” – were not sympathetic to Loki’s plight. It wasn’t that they bore her any ill will. She was a fish, a newbie, but she was no fool. She’d quickly learned the way to gaining protection in the Bucket was to be taken under the wing of someone more powerful.

Unlike most of the other inmates who were in for drug related offences, Loki was in for identity theft. She had no shortage of brain power, but also no biceps to speak of. To avoid being made to serve some gang warlord, Loki decided to pick her own guardian….and she picked Calyx.

Calyx’s parents named her after the sepals of a flower, perhaps hoping this would impart a certain delicacy to their daughter. This often has a way of boomeranging horribly, and such was the case with Calyx. “Delicate” was the last attribute one would think to apply to her, and she switched to the nickname “Callie” as soon as she mastered the power of speech.

Callie was a loner. She had no girlfriend as far as Loki could tell, but she didn’t give the impression of having a boyfriend on the outside either. Loki had a boyfriend waiting for her on the outside, as did most of the women there. But while in prison, many women formed the practical bonds necessary to get by, including taking female lovers.  Callie seemed to spend most of her time reading or working at the iron pile — the free weights available as part of their recreation.

While she was friendly enough with other inmates, Callie seemed to avoid all of the politics associated with prison life. In spite of this, or perhaps because of it, people left her alone. They didn’t hassle her, but she seemed to have influence among the inmates and guards both. Whatever she asked for, she got. Loki spent the first week very carefully observing things, and she decided this valuable ally was the best investment for serving out her two years of incarceration. The trick was getting Callie to think so too.

She knew right away the usual offer of physical companionship would not work. Loki was an attractive woman, well-endowed in all the right places. But if Callie wanted conventional (or what passed for conventional in prison) sex, she could easily have gotten it before this. No, it was going to take some other kind of merchandise to perk her interest.

“You need someone to take care of your laundry,” she said one day, nonchalantly parking herself next to the weight bench where Callie was working out.

Loki couldn’t tell whether the sound Callie made was a snort of disdain, or a grunt caused by lifting weights. “I can do my own laundry,” she said.

“I’ll give you my dessert,” was her next offer. She thought she detected a nearly imperceptible pause in Callie’s barbell curl. Bullseye!  It gave her the patience to wait out the curls and an entire set of squats.

“Don’t like the orange jello,” Callie said at last.

“I’ll give you my roll on those days,” she answered quickly. “But Thursdays? You’d get double chocolate pudding….” Loki dangled the bribe before her like a diamond ring. When your life revolves around a tiny cell and very little else, routine things like meals take on huge importance. Riots have erupted over incidents as minor as burnt crust on a pizza slice.

Callie put down the weights and stretched a bit, looking out over the yard. “What do you want?” she asked at last.

“Your protection. Move me to your cell and look out for me. Keep the others from bothering me.”

Callie gave a rare laugh. “You don’t ask for much, do you, fish? Forget it. Bitches are too much trouble. All the chocolate pudding in the world ain’t worth the extra headache.”

“I can tell you stories.” Loki played her ace. She’d noticed how much Callie liked to read. And she knew the books donated to the prison made for a rather limited library. That did it…the older woman looked over at her now.

“What kind of stories?” Callie’s tone was skeptical, but there was a definite gleam of interest in her eye.

“Whatever you like. I was a writer on the outside, you know.” And this was the truth. Loki was a very good writer. The trouble had come when her creativity extended to taking on new identities for profit.

Callie grunted. She lay down and reached over her head to grasp the bench, anchoring her body for the 200 leg lifts she did every day. “Okay…tell me one now.”

That was unexpected. But Loki was up to the challenge. She took a deep breath and considered carefully. What would catch the attention of one of the most respected convicts in the prison? The obvious choice would be some action/adventure or comedy. But Loki rarely went with the obvious choice. She wove a tale about two women who met at a pool hall…a love story.

When Callie finished her leg lifts she lay there with her eyes closed, breathing hard and sweating. She rested her hands on her midsection and gradually her breathing slowed. Loki couldn’t tell whether she was still listening or if she’d fallen asleep, but she kept talking. Finally the story ended, happily ever after in the best tradition, and still Callie had not moved. Not wanting to awaken her, Loki started to rise. And that’s when Callie spoke.

“You’ll move in with me tomorrow. And Thursdays, I get your pudding.”

“You got it.” Loki hid her desire to cheer behind the biggest grin ever.

And that’s how their partnership began.  It worked well for both of them. Loki got her protection, Callie was entertained whenever she felt like it. She didn’t ask for a story every night. Some nights she read instead, some nights she wrote in a composition notebook she kept under her bunk. Loki assumed it was letters she was writing, because when she was done she would usually tear them out and stuff them into the waistband of her trousers. But at least three times a week she would lay back, close her eyes, and say, “Okay, fish – tell me a story.” And Loki would spin her tales.

In the beginning, Loki would finish the story in one telling, but she soon realized that she would quickly run out of material that way. So she began to tell longer tales, and continue them over several nights.

“What happened then?” Callie asked, the first time that happened. “That’s not the end, is it?”

“Nope…to be continued,” Loki replied with a smile.

Callie frowned slightly, and for a moment Loki wondered if there was going to be insistence on having an ending, and if so, how she was going to stand her ground. But then Callie just shrugged and closed her eyes again. “Installment payments,” she muttered to herself. “Eh…why the hell not?”

As a cellmate, Callie left something to be desired. Not because she was messy – she had few possessions and she always kept them neatly stowed. Not because of her snoring – she did snore but it was soft and compared to the constant noise of the cellblock Loki could barely hear her. Not because of her temper, either. She had a temper, but it usually expressed itself in narrowed eyes and a low growling sound deep in her throat. The few times Loki had seen her lose it, some inmate had gone flying with a warning shove, and that’s all it took for people to back off. Her temper had never been turned against Loki.

Unless, of course, you counted that minor incident with the notebook.

Every evening after dinner, inmates were allowed an hour of freedom before being locked back in their cells. Most of the women preferred to watch television in the recreation room, or spend some of the 300 minutes of phone time they were allotted each month talking to their families. Some visited the commissary to purchase toiletries or detergent, anything better than the prison-issued generic toothpaste or the harsh blue stick of soap which refused to lather.

Callie usually visited the chapel, of all places.

“I…uh…didn’t know you were religious,” Loki said once.

“I’m not,” was the terse reply. “It’s a quiet place to meditate.”

Though Loki didn’t think Callie was the type to meditate either, she wisely decided to drop the subject. But for someone like Loki, who preferred a bit of interaction in her daily routine, bunking with Callie was rather unsatisfying.

One evening, while her cellmate was away, Loki went over to Callie’s bunk and pulled out her notebook. She had been dying of curiosity for weeks, and Loki was not a patient person. But when she finally got a peek in the notebook, she was disappointed to see only blank pages and torn edges of pages – no writing to be found. She stuck it back beneath the mattress with a snort. “Now why am I not surprised?”

The next thing she knew, Loki found herself shoved down onto that very same mattress, face first.

“Hey!” She struggled to rise, but was pinned down by a strong hand at the back of her neck.

“What the hell were you doing?” Callie’s voice was soft, but furious.

“I was just curi—” she got no farther than that when a hard palm cracked sharply against her buttocks – once, twice, three times. “Ow! Cut that out!”

Now she was grabbed by the back of the shirt and pulled upright, then whirled around to face her angry cellmate.

“Don’t you ever touch my things without permission, you hear me?” Callie released Loki, who stepped back and rubbed her bottom resentfully. The prison-issued uniform – bright orange with the same style and thickness as medical scrubs – didn’t provide much protection, and those swats had hurt.

“Okay, okay…geez, you don’t have to HIT! It’s not as if there was anything to see anyway!”

Callie stared at her in disbelief. “You’re very lucky,” she said at last, “that I am a patient person.”

“Yeah, a regular Mother Theresa, that’s you,” Loki muttered under her breath.

Now you would have thought that someone as bright as Loki would’ve learned from this little incident. But most people who end up in prison are there because they don’t make the best choices. Far from being warned off as Callie had intended, Loki found her curiosity piqued.

For one thing, as painful as those swats had been, it was still mild compared to the punishment Callie could’ve doled out. Was everyone wrong about her? Was she really a softie underneath? The thought intrigued Loki no end, and she was determined to find out.

Thursday night’s menu was always some type of pasta, usually spaghetti or macaroni and cheese, salad, a roll, and chocolate pudding for dessert. Normally Loki handed her dessert over to Callie, as per their agreement. This time, however, she ate it.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I must’ve forgotten,” she said, hand over her mouth in apparent remorse, when Callie came by for it later.

The older woman looked at her without speaking, and Loki felt a little twinge of fear. Then Callie shrugged. “Okay, next time.” She walked off, accepting Loki’s explanation without question.

Velda, a woman serving a 10-year sentence for trying to bring a station wagon full of pot across the border and considered by most to be the Bucket’s matriarch, shook her head. She was sitting at Loki’s table, had overheard the exchange, and knew quite clearly that it had been no “accident.”

“Girl, you didn’t ask for my advice….”

“Yes?”

“I wouldn’t cross that one.” She jerked her head in the direction of the departed Callie.

“Who’s crossing her? I just forgot, that’s all.” Then she grinned. “Besides, all those extra desserts aren’t good for her figure. She’s lucky to have me looking out for her.”

“You better be looking out after your own skin, that’s all I got to say,” Velda countered darkly. But she knew there was no sense in pursuing it. Some youngsters never learned about playing with fire until they got burned.

Friday night was fish sticks and green beans and orange jello. According to their agreement, Loki usually gave Callie her dinner roll. That night, she handed it off to Elevator Mary instead. As her name (never said within her hearing) implied, Mary suffered from bi-polar disorder, and would’ve benefitted from proper medication. Loki watched as Elevator Mary’s face lit up, and knew Callie would never try to take the roll away from her. She braced herself as Callie approached her table with a baffled expression on her face.

“What the hell?”

“Oh, sorry! I forgot again,” she said apologetically.

“Did you really?” Callie’s nearly black irises bored into hers.

“You know,” Loki said, avoiding the question, “you really should be watching your calories anyway.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“As you get older your metabolism slows down,” she continued earnestly. “And even weight training can’t prevent a spare tire.” She reached out to pat Callie’s midsection, adding insult to injury.

Loki heard the low rumble start in Callie’s throat as she leaned over Loki in a threatening manner. “Maybe this arrangement ain’t working out,” she said. “Maybe you need to be Elevator Mary’s bitch instead.”

“Well, she’s not as buff as you are,” Loki responded, batting her eyelashes. “But…she probably would love my stories.” She let that statement hang in the air between them. She knew how much Callie had come to rely on her stories, and she was betting her welfare on that. She watched as Callie’s hands curled into fists as she fought to contain her anger, and felt that funny tingle again in her tummy. Would this be the day Callie finally lost it? She braced herself.

After a moment Callie swore softly. “Fish, you are damn lucky I’ve lost my appetite.” She stalked off.

Loki released the breath she had been holding. Her heart was pounding with the surge of adrenaline, but she felt a curious sense of disappointment. Twice now her provoking behavior had been ignored. The only time Callie had really reacted was when Loki had touched her property. Obviously it would take something big to get her attention. Loki was nothing if not imaginative…it only took her three days to drop her bombshell.

Callie felt something weird in the air as she walked to and from meals that day. It seemed to her that women were avoiding looking her in the eye. She usually kept to herself, but wasn’t above exchanging a friendly nod or two with both inmates and guards as she passed them. Today, however, she swore that she even heard snickers of amusement behind her as she passed by. It was Velda who eventually clued her in.

“So… it seems you’re famous,” she drawled, falling into step with Callie as they left the cafeteria after lunch.

“I am?”

“Mm-hm. Your little fish has been telling stories about you.”

“What! When?!”

“Last night in the TV room. No wonder you took her on – she’s talented. People rather listen to her than watch ‘Deal or No Deal,’ at any rate.”

Callie stopped dead in her tracks, a growl starting in her throat. “What the fuck is she saying?”

“Oh, it’s just made-up stories, I reckon. But they’re pretty entertaining. Like the one about you and your stay in the county jail. When you took a liking to one of the cops there and found imaginative uses for his…uh…baton.”

“What!?”

“Apparently you bat for both teams, though. She told a great one about you at a federal camp, where your old lady kept you in line by making you service the other cons. People seemed to enjoy the thought of you rolling over so meekly, for some reason.”

“I’ll bet.” Callie took a deep breath. “I’m going to fucking kill her. I should never have taken a bitch on…I knew they were too much trouble!”

Velda grabbed her arm. “You know she’s just trying to get your attention, right?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Think about it. Why would she screw up such a sweet deal? Who’s going to treat her better than you have?”

“That’s what I don’t understand,” Callie said, running a hand through her short dark hair. She sounded almost hurt, rather than angry. “You know,” she admitted, lowering her voice, “I’m not even fucking her. I know everyone figures she services me, but I haven’t asked her for anything. I don’t even think about her like that….she’s like a kid sister or something.”

“Maybe that’s the trouble.”

Callie was taken aback. “What, you sayin’ she’s interested?”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Velda shook her head. “But you’ve got this…well, almost maternal feeling going on. It’s made you too soft on her.”

Callie frowned. “You think so?”

“Think about it,” Velda patted her shoulder, resuming her walk toward her own cell. “The way she’s acting right now – if that ain’t testing you, then may my own three children call me the biggest fool in history!”

Which brings us, dear readers, to the present moment, and Loki’s impending punishment, which the whole cellblock was now aware of. Loki looked into Callie’s furious face and wondered why she ever thought it would be fun to provoke her.

“Uh…is something wrong?”

“You know exactly what’s wrong, fish. And now you’re about to find out what happens to a bitch who misbehaves.”

At that moment the heavens intervened, and the bell rang for recreation hour. Every day after lunch all the inmates were let outside into the prison yard for an hour. No one was exempt unless she was sick, in which case she was expected to report to the dispensary. The Correctional Officers frequently took that opportunity to inspect cells and check for contraband, but none of the inmates would’ve dreamed of staying in their cells anyway. The one hour outside was the closest thing to freedom they would taste. Loki didn’t know how she was going to make Callie forget about her punishment, but she had sixty minutes to work on it.

Loki watched nervously as Callie headed for the iron pile and picked up her weight belt. The other women gathered in groups to talk or exercise, but all of them kept an eye on the proceedings. Even the guards patrolling the perimeter seemed curiously watchful.

Then she noticed Callie walking away from the iron pile and heading for one of the tables set in the middle of the yard. There were several of these picnic tables, painted industrial green with benches attached, set out for the inmates to gather at. Callie climbed atop a table and sat with her feet planted on the wooden seat. She looked straight at Loki and crooked her finger. Come here.

Loki’s eyes widened. She looked around her. Most of the women were watching expectantly, a few with pity, and few with amusement. No one seemed inclined to come to her aid.

She looked at Callie pleadingly, her hands outstretched to indicate their surroundings. Not here, not now.

Callie’s jaw tightened and she pointed to ground in front of her. Here. Now.

Loki panicked and headed for the fence. Though normally the guards would be the last people she turned to, right now they were her only hope. But she had reckoned without Callie’s sphere of power. Before she had gotten more than a few steps she felt her arms seized and she was being dragged backwards.

“Hey! Stop it!” The two cons holding her were among the biggest, butchest women in the Bucket. Her feet barely touched the ground as they propelled her toward the table where her cellmate waited. Loki craned her head frantically to find the guards behind the fence…they weren’t even looking at her. The person they were looking at was Callie, who was gesturing to reassure them: A brush off her forehead, a slicing motion across her throat, and final thumbs up. Everything’s under control…leave it to me, okay?

The guards settled back to watch. They knew they could trust Callie. She understood very well how things worked. The routine at the Bucket ground everyone down. Sometimes they all – cons and C.O.s both – needed a little entertainment. And thanks to Callie’s recalcitrant little bitch, they were about to be treated to some.

“Little girl, you know why you’re about to get your ass whipped, right?” It was more a statement than a question.

“Please, Callie, I didn’t mean…”

“Too late, little girl. You’ve been pushing it all week. Well, you’re about to get the licking you’ve been asking for.” Callie didn’t even look angry anymore, just unyieldingly stern. She nodded at the two women holding her, and they lifted her easily to a horizontal position. Over Callie’s lap she went, protesting the whole time.

For the first time, Loki got to feel Callie’s strong thighs up close and personal. They were like padded iron beneath her tummy, reminding Loki that the older woman worked out every day. One strong arm against her lower back pinned her very effectively, while the other rested casually across her hips. Loki struggled to break free, but she might as well have been a dinosaur in a tar pit.

“Settle down,” Callie said firmly. “You’re going to be here awhile.”

“Don’t do this, Callie,” Loki said desperately. “Okay, you can punish me, but do it privately.”

The older woman snorted. “I don’t need your permission to punish you, brat. Your punishment is guaranteed. And as for privacy – funny how you didn’t mind the limelight when you were telling those stories about me! From what I understand, you were the life of the party, weren’t you?”

Loki was miserably silent.

“Exactly. What you sow, you reap, little girl. And by the way, be sure to thank your boyfriend for the fancy lingerie he sends, won’t you?” She began loosening the drawstring on Loki’s trousers.

“Noooo!” Loki began fighting like a wildcat…to no avail. Her trousers were peeled off slowly but surely. The crowd that had now gathered weren’t shy about their enjoyment of the spectacle.

“Ooo, nice! Is that Victoria’s Secret?”

“Day-yamn, somebody better tell Vicky there ain’t nothing secret about them drawers!” Laughter erupted.

“Poor fish,” Velda was heard to murmur.”Not much protection in a scrap of silk and lace.”

Loki didn’t have much time to be embarrassed about her exposure, as Callie’s callused palm started striking her barely-covered buttocks.

*SWAT* *SWAT* “You *SWAT* wanted my attention? *SWAT* You’re about to get *SWAT* all the attention *SWAT* you deserve.” *SWAT* *SWAT* *SWAT* She continued the lecture in between firm slaps all over Loki’s bottom and upper thighs.

To Loki’s surprise, Callie wasn’t hitting her as hard as she had feared. It wasn’t as hard as that time she snooped in her notebook, and she had a lot more clothing on then. This fact, combined with the humiliation of being spanked before an audience, turned Loki’s initial fear into anger. And so she lashed out with her most potent weapon – her tongue.

“Talk, slap, talk, slap! What’s with the sound effects?! Do you know how ridiculous and amateurish that is?? If I wrote like that I’d never get anything published!”

Loki had the brief pleasure of seeing the shocked faces of the women watching, and felt Callie’s jerk of surprise as she halted mid-swat. She held her breath.

Callie was torn between anger and amusement. She had had brats cross her before, but Loki’s outrageousness was particularly infuriating. Part of her actually wanted to cheer on the kid’s spirit, but such open defiance could not be tolerated. If she was perceived as showing weakness, things wouldn’t be safe for either of them.

“You’re right, little fish,” Callie said into the silence that had fallen. “No more talking. I’m getting down to business…starting now.” She hooked her thumb into the waistband of Loki’s knickers and pulled them down without any ceremony, ignoring the screech and stream of profanities that erupted.

Then her hand began rising and falling, cracking against the pinkened flesh repeatedly. Still, she was far from using her full strength, and this was quite purposeful. For one thing, it wasn’t necessary. She lifted weights regularly and had always scorned the leather half-gloves other women used to protect their hands. As a consequence, her palms could land with the force of a wooden paddle. But the other reason Callie was holding back was because she intended the spanking to continue for a good long time. Her aim wasn’t to impart a vicious beating. Her aim was to teach the young delinquent a lesson. And for that to happen, Loki needed to feel most unquestionably punished before it was over.

In her life, Callie had spanked a few women. Most of the wallopings were for pleasure, rather than punishment. But in either case, Callie was unsparing in her attention to detail. Many people who have received that kind of attention are familiar with the term “subspace.” What is less talked about is the state a dominant can enter when imparting discipline. Unlike subspace, which is a zoning inward, “top space” is a hyper-alertness of all one’s senses and a focus on the subject at hand.

Callie was enjoying the way the muscles in her arm were moving as smoothly as a windmill, sweeping up from below so that each spank caused Loki’s cheeks to bounce with the impact, only to meet the next stinging whack on the upswing. She observed how red the brat’s bottom was becoming, and took pains to make sure the whole surface, as well as her upper thighs, were evenly colored. Her ears were keenly attuned to how the taunting and swearing had turned into cries and pleading. She exulted in the stinging that was developing in her palm, knowing the repeated forceful smacks were having a much greater painful impact on Loki’s tender flesh.

Callie wasn’t sadistic…she took no pleasure in causing suffering. But she did feel a good deal of grim satisfaction in making sure a naughty girl got her just deserts. So yes, there was a small smile on her face as she watched the wiggling fish over her lap, confident in the knowledge that she was delivering a very thorough thrashing to one who thoroughly deserved it.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” the red-faced girl was now wailing, her legs kicking futilely with each punishing slap.

And Loki was feeling extremely sorry for herself, all right. Since she had reached adulthood, no one had ever laid a hand on her. To find herself bare-bottomed over someone’s lap was galling. Especially since that someone was now spanking her in public, and none of her outrage, apologies or squirming seemed to make any difference. The spanking had gone on and on, and each time Loki had dared to hope it was over turned out to be just a pause for Callie to re-secure her or position her bottom even higher. Each iron-hard slap had built on the ones before till there were exploding red stars behind her eyelids every time that merciless palm landed. She had started out wanting to tell Callie where to go, but the terrible agony in her rear end had reduced her to a repentant little girl, crying out for reprieve.

Callie could tell from Loki’s still-tensed muscles that the fight hadn’t left her completely, but she was clearly near her limit, and since the top had no interest in “breaking” anyone, she decided this was a good time to wind down the spanking.

“I accept your apology,” she said, pausing with her hand resting against Loki’s burning right cheek. “And no more stories about me, you got that?”

Before Loki could reply, Elevator Mary spoke up. “She told a great one about you and a pair of handcuffs,” she put in with relish, obviously loathe for the entertainment to end.

Loki couldn’t believe it. She’d given her roll to this woman! Rage overrode the horrible pain she was in. “You fucking crazy bitch, I’m going to kill you!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. The women gathered around stepped back at the unexpectedness of that.

“Hush!” Callie punctuated that with a sharp spank. “No one will be killing anyone. Mary,” she lasered a look at the woman, “no one likes a snitch. Loki’s been punished for running her mouth, and that’s the end of it.” She raised her head and addressed her audience. “Everyone got that? She’s my bitch, and I took care of it. She’s gonna be nothing but respectful from now on. Right, fish?” Silence fell as they waited for her response.

Loki had a sudden mental picture of the entire scene. She could see herself, dangling over Callie’s lap, white skin and reddened ass on display. She could imagine the looks of amusement on the faces of the other inmates, the lecherous gazes of the guards beyond the fence. How had she ended up this way? So she’d tried to cash a few checks on accounts that weren’t hers, so what? For that she’d ended up in this hellhole? For a few measly bucks she’d traded in her freedom for the miserable confinement of the Bucket? It had been Chuck’s stupid idea to begin with, and now her boyfriend was probably bonking their bouncy, jailbait neighbor while she was stuck here for two years!

Her life was a farce, her future was shit, and her ass was throbbing so bad even the air hurt. And now this bitch wanted to hear how she was going to show her respect from now on??? Below her was the dusty asphalt of the prison yard, and at the edge of her vision, she could see Callie’s scuffed black sneakers planted on the bench as she sat with Loki balanced over her lap. All of Loki’s frustration and resentment focused on the footwear of the woman who had just spanked her so soundly. She took a deep breath.

And spit.

Right onto Callie’s shoe.

There was an audible gasp from the circle around her. Loki regretted her impetuous act immediately and started babbling her remorse. Surprisingly, Callie didn’t react violently. Instead, she gave a long sigh. Somehow that was the scariest sign yet.

“Moniz, Evans,” Callie addressed the two cons who had carried Loki, “take ’em off.” Loki felt her trousers and underwear, which in her struggles had pooled at her ankles, being worked over her own sneakers and removed completely. Suddenly Callie was shifting her over onto one knee, but instead of being bent over it, she was straddling it. She lay along the length of Callie’s left thigh, her mons pressed against Callie’s knee, her legs dangling in air. She was tucked under Callie’s left arm as it wrapped around her waist, holding her snugly. Her head and shoulders were now behind Callie’s back, and she rested her elbows against the wooden tabletop, trying to make sense of this new position. Raising her head, she saw Velda’s widened eyes, heard her quiet “Ohhhhh shiiiiit.”

She craned her neck to see what Velda was looking at and could barely make out a long shape that seemed vaguely familiar. As she watched, Callie lifted it into the air and lowered it slowly. There was a tickling sensation against her smarting cheeks, and then the top repeated her action twice more. Realization came to her with a sudden drop in her tummy: Callie was measuring her swing. And then Loki knew an even more sickening sensation as she figured out what Callie was holding – it was the end of her weight-belt. It was the long, thick tongue of leather that fit into the buckle, which Callie had somehow cut off and was now about to use as a strap. On her ass.

“Oh god, wait, I’m sor—” Her attempted apology ended in a cry of pain as the strap landed vertically on her right cheek. The leather tongue laid a fiery kiss over the entire curve of her buttock, and the evil end of it had curled under to land right where she sat, at the junction of cheek and thigh. A scarlet welt formed immediately.

“Wait, Callie, please….” Callie ignored her completely. Again Loki broke off with a cry as the strap lashed her left cheek. Again the stinging end of it welted the very undercurve of her bottom. The distressed wriggling of Loki’s hips brought to mind her fish nickname, but Callie’s strong arm held her fast.

Then, to Loki’s horror, Callie’s right leg hooked her left one and spread her wide, as the top carefully measured again for her final stroke…right down the center.

Callie’s jaw clenched as she concentrated. This was the harshest punishment she had ever doled out, and one she didn’t want to have to repeat. She wanted to make certain she avoided any delicate bits, but the sensitive inner ass cheeks were fair game. Any brat who dared to spit on her was by damn going to feel leather there, and if the tip of the strap ended up branding her pucker too – well, that was no more than she deserved. Callie raised the belt…and swung.

The shriek that emerged could’ve been heard over to the governor’s mansion, so Callie knew the guards would no longer ignore what was going on. She nodded to Moniz and Evans, who got busy restoring clothing to the now sobbing Loki. She handed the strap to another inmate, where it got passed along till it was shoved down someone’s waistband. By the time Correctional Officer Henderson had walked over to their group, it looked like a normal day in the yard. If one ignored the crying newbie on Callie’s knee, that is.

“Is there a problem here, ladies?” Henderson stood with calm authority, hands hooked over her belt and eyes hidden behind a pair of ubiquitous mirrored Ray-ban sunglasses. She addressed Callie directly. “Lee? Something wrong?”

“No problem, officer. Just a bitch who needed some disciplining, but as you can see that’s been taken care of.”

“How come they send you?” came a question from the crowd. “The other badges have trouble walking with a woody?” Snickers and high-fives all around.

Henderson ignored the remark, though her mouth tightened as if suppressing a grin. It was true, after all. She inclined her head at the limp form over Callie’s knee. “She gonna need the dispensary?”

Callie shook her head. “No, she’ll be fine. I’ll see to her. I might be by for some cold cream later, though.”

C.O. Henderson nodded. “Okay, take her back. The rest of you ladies – go get some exercise.”

Loki was barely aware of Callie half-carrying her back to their cell. She only knew everything hurt. Most of all, her insides hurt. By the end of her punishment Callie had seemed so merciless, it was scary. Deep down inside Loki was aware Callie could’ve been a lot meaner. She probably could’ve even hit her harder, though Loki’s imagination shrank from contemplating what that might be like. But she was so silent. No talking, just punishment. Loki didn’t know why the idea of Callie coldly punishing her was the worst thing about the whole experience, but it was.

Callie lay Loki down carefully on her bed. Loki curled into a ball, still sniffling softly. She paid no attention when Callie began to remove her shoes and socks, but when she moved to the drawstring of her pants, she struggled away with a whimper.

“Easy, easy, I’m just going to make you more comfortable. I’ll cover you with this blanket, okay?” Callie didn’t look mad anymore as she stood there patiently holding up the blanket.

“Make me more comfortable? That’s a laugh.” Loki’s tearful voice was bitter. “You’ve done enough damage…just leave me alone!”

Callie snorted. The brat was too much. “I’ve done enough damage? And what are you, the innocent party?”

“Well, one of us can breathe without hurting, and the other can’t. I’ll let you decide which one of us is the injured party.”

Callie sat down on the edge of Loki’s bed, ignoring the way the other woman scooted back to get as far away as the narrow bunk would allow. “I didn’t say ‘injured,’ I said ‘innocent.’ But since we’re talking about that, what about the way my reputation was injured by your stories?”

Loki closed her eyes and tried to ignore the anguish she was in. It felt like someone had rubbed nettles all over the skin of her butt. “Don’t worry, you’re still the top dog around here…probably even more so after the beating you just administered.”

Callie shook her head. “That wasn’t a beating. That was a spanking. A hard spanking, maybe, but still a spanking.”

“Fine. Whatever. Whipping someone with a belt is just a spanking. You win, okay? Now leave me alone.” She grabbed the blanket from Callie’s hand and covered herself with it, rolling over to face the wall.

Callie sighed. This fish was the most exasperating person she had ever met. It was amazing she still had any bottom left at all. As she pondered how to address the situation, C.O. Henderson walked up to the cell door. Callie stood up to meet her. The guard nodded at the lump on the bed.

“She gonna be okay?”

“Yeah. If I can keep from strangling her before her release date, she’ll be fine.”

Henderson chuckled. “You were a bit harsh on her today.” Her voice was lowered so that only Callie could hear. If it had been any other C.O., Callie would’ve told them to fuck off. But Henderson was different – she treated them like human beings. She cared.

“Only what she needed. Someone had to put a check on the fish, before she got herself hurt. Better she learn from me.” Callie spoke in a lowered tone too.

“You really take care of her, don’t you?” She wasn’t wearing her Raybans now, and Officer Henderson’s expression was approving.

Callie glanced over at the bed and shrugged. “She’s my bitch.” Louder, she asked, “What you got there?”

“Some arnica gel. It’s cool and will help with the bruises.”

“I didn’t know the dispensary had shit like that.” Callie was surprised. “I was gonna ask for some cold cream.”

“It’s not from the dispensary,” Henderson’s tone was lowered again. “It’s mine. I keep it in the fridge, so it should feel good on those welts.”

Well, well. C.O. Henderson had some unexpected depths to her. Callie looked into her brown eyes and detected the merest twinkle. Then the guard straightened up and prepared to head back to her station. “Go take care of your fish.”

Callie turned back to her cellmate. “Okay, little girl, inspection time. Drop ’em and get over my lap.”

Loki lay beneath her blanket and pretended to be asleep, instead of straining to hear the conversation as she had been for the last five minutes. But Callie wasn’t fooled. She swatted Loki’s behind gently.

“Owww! Cut it out!” Loki rolled back over and emerged to glare at her. “I am never placing myself over your lap again, so you might as well beat me up now, because it’s not going to happen!”

Callie regarded her without speaking. Oh yes, it will, little girl, she thought to herself with amusement. You’ll learn to behave one way or another. But that’s probably too much to ask for after a day like today. Aloud she said, “I just want to spread some of this gel on you, sweetie. It will help you feel a lot better.” Her tone was purposely reassuring, and she saw Loki’s eyes widen in surprise at the endearment.

“I can do it myself,” she said. But her tone was much less obstreperous.

“You can’t treat your own ass properly the way another person can,” Callie said logically. “Trust me, I know from experience.” She grinned at Loki’s suspicious look. “It’s true.”

“How do you know? What kind of experience?”

“What – you mean you don’t have a story about that?” Callie pretended shock. She sat down on the edge of Loki’s bed, and such was the brat’s sudden curiosity over Callie’s statement, that she didn’t protest as Callie removed her pants and drew her gently over her lap.

“You know those stories are just made up. But…did that really happen? I mean…did someone actually spank you once?”

“Mm?” Callie inspected her bottom and was satisfied to note that, though painfully rosy and swollen, no skin was broken, and the bruising would probably be bearable. She began to rub the cooling gel over the reddened skin and smiled to herself at Loki’s involuntary sigh of pleasure. “Well, of course someone actually spanked me once. You don’t think I was born this well-mannered, do you?”

Loki’s snort was a fair imitation of her cellmate. “Well-mannered for a convict, maybe.” She held her breath as Callie carefully spread her cheeks to reach all areas with the gel. But the top’s fingers were both gentle and nonintrusive. She finished her ministrations and pulled up Loki’s panties, before easing her back onto the bed and covering her with the blanket. She capped the arnica and stood up.

“Wait,” Loki said, not wanting Callie to leave, even though she was feeling strangely sleepy all of a sudden. “Aren’t you going to tell me the story?”

“You’re the one who tells stories, fish,” was Callie’s reply. She grinned as the younger woman’s pout turned into a jaw-cracking yawn. “Maybe another time. Right now you’re headed for a nap. And remember, I get your tapioca after dinner.”

“Okay, okay,” Loki grumbled sleepily. “But you really should be cutting back on the calories at your age.”

Callie stifled the growl rising in her throat. Typical for the brat to insist on having the last word. After administering the mother of all spankings, Callie’s palm was actually itching again. Lord help her. She’d have to remember to put in a good word for Loki at any evidentiary hearings. Maybe she could help her get released early. Because there was no way Callie was going to survive another two years. Although…chocolate pudding and bedtime stories? Prison could be a lot worse.  

The End

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