The Shame Game

She was not someone who let herself become distracted while driving, but the posters on the sides and back of the bus in front of her would have distracted anyone. On the back, were two outrageously good-looking and instantly recognisable men. Just in case anyone had been under a rock for the last three years, their nicknames: “King Dazzler” and “The Cat” were emblazoned above their heads. The King, as he was known to most, was in his usual white leather, his golden curls, limpid blue eyes and choir-boy face at odds with the impressive muscles his sleeveless vest displayed. He was smiling. Also smiling, but in an altogether more evil way, The Cat, taller and even more muscular, was in black leather that matched his straight, shoulder-length hair, and his green eyes were gleaming as he stared straight at Jessie. Underneath their image, the question: ‘Do you really want to put yourself in our hands?’ was written.

She’d already seen the two pictures on the side when the bus was turning, and had been horrified. Honestly, she couldn’t understand why it was allowed. In one, the King was holding a woman’s hands above her head. Her horrified, pink-cheeked face was in full view, as were her bare shoulders and bare cleavage, the picture cropped a fraction above indecency. The King was smiling and looking down over her shoulders, obviously ogling her naked body. The next photo was, if anything, even worse. All you could see of the victim in this one was her legs. The Cat was holding her ankles wide apart and she was hanging upside down, the photo cropped very high on her long legs. There was absolutely no doubt what The Cat, grinning wickedly, was looking down at. The poster in between the two photographs read: ‘The Name of the Game is Shame’.

It was appalling, Jessie thought. This trend towards public shaming had been around for years, but ‘The Shame Game’ and the Institute it was linked to, was the showpiece. Nude women were humiliated daily for the edification of millions of viewers around the country and the world: and those two men, King Dazzler and The Cat, were national icons, heart-throbs and heroes. It was just wrong as far as she was concerned, and she would have thought so even if her friend Angela hadn’t been one of their victims.

She shook her head, then froze as a motorcyclist came roaring up, just missed the vehicle behind her, then swerved, clipped the side of her car, and was thrown straight across the road and into a guard rail. Her heart in her mouth, Jessie tugged on the wheel as the car careered across the road, and braced herself as a guide post rushed up to meet her.

……………………….

The phone rang once only before he picked it up.

“Governor Miller?

“Speaking,” Jake Miller replied.
”This is Angela Myers. I used to be known as Andie Nugent, and I was in one of your first intakes.” Jake typed the name on his silent keyboard and swivelled his chair to look at the wall screen.

“I remember, Ms Myers,” he said “The investigative journalist, I believe?”
”You have no idea how difficult it is to keep talking when you are, I’m certain, now looking at photographs of me on your computer monitor,” Angela said honestly. Jake smiled to himself.

“I don’t have a computer monitor, Ms Myers,” he replied, just as honestly. He studied the life-size nude photograph that was being displayed on his wall. He wondered how she’d react if he asked if she still had those two little freckles just above her flaming red triangle of pubic hair.

“Whatever,” she said, not falling for it. “Anyway, I’m ringing because someone close to me, a good friend, is about to be sent to you. And she shouldn’t be there. She’s innocent.”
”They all are,” he said. Angela exhaled loudly.

“Everyone says it, but in this case, it’s right,” she said. “I was guilty, every woman I was in there with was guilty, for all I know every single woman who’s been there since has been guilty, but Jessie isn’t. She teaches little kids with learning difficulties, for heaven’s sake. She’s the best person I know!”

“What has she been charged with?” he asked, interested despite himself. The employment category certainly didn’t fit the profile.

“With hitting a motorcyclist,” Angela answered. “He narrowly avoided the car behind her, then bounced off her car, but he’s claimed that she hit him.”
”And the driver of the car behind?”

“Drove off,” Angela said in disgust. “Jessie can describe the car, but didn’t get the plates.”

“There must have been enough evidence to support the claims of the cyclist,” Jake said.

“The cyclist is Wendell Burroughs,” Angela said. “Does the name mean anything to you?”
”Should it?”
”As in Judge Burroughs?” she said. “Judge Shame Burroughs? Wendell’s uncle?” Jake doodled the name on the writing pad in front of him.

“What exactly are you saying, Ms Myers?” he asked.

“You know what I’m saying.”
”And why are you saying it to me?”
”Because the judicial system won’t listen to me,” she said bitterly. “I’m an ex-inmate myself, and all the name changes and alterations to my appearance don’t make a scrap of difference to that. Who’s going to take the word of someone Judge Burroughs sent to your hell-hole over that of Judge Burroughs?”

“No-one of any sense, I would think,” Jake said. There was silence. Angela sighed.

“Just look into it, that’s all I ask,” she said. “I’m not going to pretend I like anything about you or the place you run, but you seem like an intelligent man, maybe a man who is a supporter of justice. If Jessie Porter ends up in the Shame Institute, it will be a gross miscarriage of that justice. Please. Just look into it.”
”Thank you for your call, Ms Myers. I’ll consider it,” he said. And disconnected. He left the photograph of the nude Andie Nugent, hands behind her head, face bright red with embarrassment, up on the wall for some time while he thought about what he should do next.

……………..

The woman was the last of the four to go into the glass tunnel, and she was limping badly. Like the other three, she was wearing insanely high heels, her shoes chained together to prevent her from taking anything other than short steps. Like the others, she wore only those shoes and a grey cotton t-shirt that concealed nothing of her shape and revealed far more than she was comfortable showing. Already, the hundreds of onlookers were in a position to know that she was the only one of the four prisoners whose pubic hair matched the rich brown colour of the shoulder blade length hair on her head.

Also like the others, she was bright red in the face, as much from humiliation as from the awkward jog they’d been forced to make from the vehicle. At that stage, their hands had still been locked behind them in the wrist cuffs, at waist-height, so as not to obscure the view of their buttocks, bouncing in counterpoint to their breasts as they took fast, panicked little trotting steps down the path from the main road. The guards with them had made it clear to them that if they didn’t move, they’d lose their t-shirts right there, right in front of everyone. And even though they all had some idea of what was to come, the threat had been enough to make them run – or at least try to. The t-shirts, or ‘shorties’ as they were known, deliberately designed to be too brief to cover them if they did so much as breathe deeply, had been nevertheless too important for them to risk. Of course, once they reached the glass tunnel – ‘the Chute’ as it was referred to in the press and at the Shame Institute itself, the guards had uncuffed their wrists and then secured them above their heads to the bar that ran the length of the chute. And that had lifted those t-shirts even more, showing bare bottoms and bushes to anyone who cared to look. And those who cared to look were there in droves.

The Shame Campaign had been popular since its inception almost three years before and had gained in momentum and support ever since. The daily, nationally televised ‘Shame Game’ treatments ensured that there was constant interest in what they were doing – and also ensured that even when the women had finished their month-long stay, there was nowhere they could go without being recognised as one of those who’d been stripped, punished and shamed for the satisfaction and pleasure of millions. And for a full twelve months afterwards, they were not permitted to change their names, their address or their place of employment.

Jake Miller watched as the four new victims were made to stand motionless while the cameras went off all around them. It had been a modification one of the judges had approved, that anyone who came along could take photographs. One of the women was twisting and turning, futilely trying to bring her arms down to cover herself. She was Jane Carter, if he remembered correctly, the blonde bank executive who’d helped herself to small amounts of the savings accounts of lots of honest, hard-working citizens. That’s how her crime had been reported in the newspapers, anyway. A well-off, professional woman, attractive, young, unattached and arrogant, she’d been a perfect candidate for the Shame Program. As had Maria Petrina, the redhead in front of her. She’d been a high-ranking public servant who’d been found guilty of malicious bullying of her staff. Maria was struggling now too, he noticed. It was probably something to with the fact that the people around the first two women were jeering at them, zeroing in on their dark pubic hair and snapping off photographs.

Philomena Righteous, (and Jake still had trouble believing that was her real name) was the politician who’d been caught using party funds to go on holidays and purchase all manner of goodies for herself, including a yellow Porsche, to match her hair. Well, to match the hair on her head, he modified. Ms Righteous was getting her share of photographic attention, too, but unlike the two in front of her, she was standing still, her face red, but her jaw set. Even the fact that people were laughing and pointing out a large birthmark in the middle of her right buttock wasn’t getting a reaction from her. Ms Righteous was going to be harder to get to. But they would get to her. They always did.

And finally, Jessica Porter, the little brunette with the grey eyes, pretty face and the hourglass figure. She wasn’t anyone important, but she’d made the mistake of running into someone important – literally. In a display of bad driving and appalling judgement, she’d collided with someone who happened to be related to William Burroughs, one of the most outspoken of the judges who supported the Shame Institute. She’d never stood a chance. And right now, she was having trouble standing at all. Jake signalled to one of the guards.

“Mr Miller?” the guard asked deferentially. The Governor of the Institute was a fair man, always pleasant to his staff, but he was also a powerful man, with a lot of connections. Only a fool would take advantage of his friendly manner and be anything less than formal and polite in their dealings with him.

“What’s wrong with the brunette?” Jake asked. “She’s limping.”
”Apparently she broke her ankle a few months ago,” the guard shrugged. “It’s only been out of plaster two weeks. The high heels are probably hurting her.” He didn’t sound all that concerned. But then, guards at the Shame Institute weren’t selected based on their caring, compassionate manner. Jake thought about it for about as long as it took him to blink. He tended to make up his mind fast.

”Take her out of the Chute and bring her to me in my office,” he said. “And walk her slowly. Let her take her time.”
”Yes sir,” the guard said, and moved to follow the orders immediately. He had to hurry, because the other guards were just starting to move the women on. The brunette, Porter, was wincing as she put her right foot down. It wasn’t hard to read her expression as the guard approached her, spoke to his colleagues and then unhooked her from the bar. In order, Jake saw relief, trepidation and embarrassment on her face as she was led back out of the Chute and through the crowd of onlookers. No-one touched her. They knew they couldn’t do that, or they wouldn’t be allowed back in, and no-one wanted to be barred from the entrance yard of the Shame Institute. It was one of best shows in town.

Jake glanced back down the Chute, to where the three remaining woman were being prodded forward by the guards. Again, they were trotting, this time with their hands held high, their breasts once more bouncing unfettered under the thin t-shirts, their faces reddening still further. After more than three years of managing this place, he still found it interesting seeing them arrive, watching the realisation dawn on the faces of the well-to-do women that their money, their power, their prestige, their names meant nothing here. Here, they were commodities to be sold to a public enraged by the greed of the rich and successful. Here, they were flesh to be flashed, bodies to be exploited and egos to be deflated.

He turned away and walked towards his office, knowing that Porter and the guard were following behind him.

…………………

Her hands were pinned behind her again, and the t-shirt had caught up on one side, exposing the pale skin of one hip. She stood, uncertain and obviously in some pain, in front of his desk. The guard had just left, closing the door behind him.

“You’ve had a broken ankle?” Jake asked, leaning back in his leather chair.
”Yes,” she said quietly. Nice voice, he noted. Pleasant, well-modulated. “I broke it in the accident,” she continued. He nodded.

“Well, this Institute is about shame, not pain,” he said. “So we’ll get those heels off you and get you off your feet until the ankle is better.” He stood up as he spoke and came around the desk. He noted the surprise on her face. “Sit down,” he instructed. Awkwardly, lowering herself with her hands trapped behind her and her ankle throbbing, she did so, truly astonished when the man dropped to his knees in front of her. He was a big man in his late fifties, with dark hair, greying at the temples, dark eyes and the build of an athlete. She’d seen him on television many times, and had marvelled that such a handsome, distinguished-looking man should perform such a horrible job. And that was long before she ever had an inkling that she was going to end up in this terrifying hell-hole.

“Your ankle is swollen,” he commented as he unbuckled the shoe on her right foot. “I’ll have one of the doctors see to that later. But for now…” he undid the other shoe as well, and straightened up again. Jessie lowered her bare feet to the carpet with a sigh of relief. “For now, all of our doctors are busy, so you can just stay here until the admissions procedure is over.” He leaned over his desk, picked up a console and pressed a button, and the full-length curtains that covered two walls slid away. “Lift your feet,” he ordered, stepping behind her. Not knowing why, she did, then gasped as he took hold of the back of her chair and wheeled it over to the floor to ceiling glass that angled out from one wall.

“We’ll watch from here,” he said. “See that first room on the left? Where the women have just arrived?” Jessie looked to the side. They had a very clear view from here. Three rooms shared a wall with this huge office.

“That’s the Holding Room,” he said, without waiting for her to answer. “As the name suggests, the women are held there until it is their turn to proceed into the next room.” As they watched, guards approached each woman and took hold of her t-shirt at the collar, ripping the thin material right down and then off them, the sleeves giving without resistance. Through the open windows and door behind them, the crowd of onlookers roared. Jessie couldn’t hear them, but she could see their faces, their eyes glittering and their mouths open in approval as three pairs of breasts bounced free. She could also see the faces of the three women she’d so recently been grouped with. They looked horrified, mortified and scared. One of them, the redheaded one, was not taking it quietly. Like the audience, her mouth was wide open. The guards were ignoring her, and were busying themselves removing the high heels now, just as the Governor had done for her.

“Can they…” She’d spoken without thinking, and she gulped as the Governor turned to look at her. “May I ask questions?” she asked him.

“You may,” he said. “I want you to understand what’s happening, what would have been happening to you, right now, if not for your ankle.” Jessie suddenly lost any desire to ask questions, but she did it anyway.
”Can they see us?” she finished. He shook his head.

“All they can see is a mirror,” he said. “Which makes the process that much more interesting, don’t you think? Not only are they naked, in a room with six male guards, not only are they aware that they are on show for hundreds of people out there, looking in from outside, but they can actually see themselves, pinned up there, helpless and unable to cover themselves.” She said nothing.

“Porter?” he asked. “I asked you a question.” She rushed to answer.

“Yes,” she replied, not meeting his eyes. “I imagine it makes it a lot more interesting, among other things.” He let that pass.

“You can address me as ‘sir’ from now on,” he said.

“Yes sir,” she said, hating it, but not silly enough to fight unnecessarily.

Guards were approaching each woman now, syringes in their hands.
”That injection stimulates the bladder, because we need a urine sample from each of them,” Jake said. “And because we want to preserve the physical appeal of the body, it will be given to them in the inside of a buttock, where it won’t generally be seen. It’s a very sensitive area, and it can sting a little, although it stings their pride more than anything else. The other guards are there to stop the women from struggling or trying to wriggle away, which might cause the needle to break.” Indeed, each woman was now being held firmly in place by a burly guard, hands firmly fixed on their hips, a uniformed leg wrapped securely around each bare pair of legs. All three women were obviously protesting, but to no avail. One by one, each of them had their buttocks parted and a slim silver needle inserted briefly into the tender skin inside their right cheeks. The redhead looked as if she was abusing the guards. Her mouth was working constantly.

“That’s very unwise,” Jake commented, pointing to her. “They’ll almost certainly leave her until last, now. The crowd will like that. She’s got big breasts, and once that injection kicks in, she’s going to be wriggling around a lot. That makes for good viewing for those people who aren’t able to fit into the Display Yard.” The door between the first and second room swung open.

“That’s the Exercise Room,” Jake said. “That’s where we test heart rate, blood pressure, temperature, basic flexibility and fitness and so on. This month will include vigorous activity, and even though all of the prisoners have already had a court-ordered medical, this will test for capacity to deal with prolonged energetic activity.”

Jessie chewed her lip as she remembered the court-ordered medical. A cold, hard-faced female doctor had checked over every inch of her, clinically and wordlessly, while another woman, a guard, watched. It had been the most embarrassing episode of her life. At least it had been up until the male guards had come into her cell this morning, ordered her to remove every stitch of clothing, and then given her the shoes and the tiny t-shirt to wear. That had been the stuff of nightmares, peeling all of her clothes off under their smirking gaze, trying in vain to cover her breasts, her backside, her private parts, and finding that everywhere she turned, there was another man, watching her closely.

“That one is Jane Carter,” Jake said, talking more to himself than to the prisoner. “The woman they’re bringing into the second room. She’s a bank executive and regular jogger. It’ll be interesting to see how she deals with the treadmill.” Pushed into the room, still naked, the tall blonde woman wasn’t resisting, but the look in her eyes made it clear that she wasn’t either comfortable or happy. One of the guards patted her on the butt a few times and she stepped away from him. He stepped with her, put his hand on her shoulder and held her there, while he had a leisurely grope of her rump. With her hands once more pinned behind her back, there was nothing the former executive could do about it. The door between the rooms closed, leaving Jane Carter isolated with two guards and a man in a white coat – a doctor, Jessie presumed.

”First of all, weight, height and measurements,” Jake intoned. “The cuffs used on her now are lightweight plastic, so they don’t interfere with the weight.” The doctor beckoned, saying something to the prisoner. He was an older man, with thick-rimmed glasses, a thick middle and a tonsure of grey hair. His eyes were sharp and small and he was smiling in a very unpleasant manner. Jessie took an instant dislike to him. It appeared to be shared by Jane Carter, who struggled as she was pushed forward by the guard who’d been groping her. Her mid-sized breasts jiggled as she resisted, and continued to jiggle as she was frogmarched to a large set of scales. Given that she was slim and athletic, Jessie couldn’t imagine that the woman was ashamed of being weighed. She was probably just digging her heels in on principle. She settled down once she was standing on the scales, however, her head down a little, her shoulder-length blonde hair hanging over her face.

The second guard lifted something to his face. Jessie, not wanting to watch what was happening to the nude woman, zeroed in on him. It looked like – but no, surely it couldn’t be?

“That’s a video camera,” the Governor confirmed. “We record every step of the processing for every prisoner. We sell the tapes, too. It’s a nice little earner. As you probably know, we only take attractive women here, so there’s always a market for these tapes.” Disliking him more with every instant, Jessie looked away from the guard with the camera.

The doctor called out the measure, and the first guard pulled the prisoner off the scales and led her to a wall-mounted height measure. When he pushed her back against it firmly, he said something to her. Whatever it was, it made no difference. Jane Carter continued to look down at her feet.

“He’s ordering her to stand up straight,” Jake explained. “And if she doesn’t do it soon, he’ll make her wish she had.” Jessie sent silent messages to the woman to stand up straight. Now was not the time to be sullen and difficult. Then she imagined what it would be like if that was her out there, naked in front of three men, one of them recording every instant of her humiliation. Yes, she’d be looking at her toes, too.

The guard reached out and began fondling the woman’s breasts. Looking up with a start, she tried to move away, but he held her pinned against the wall while he cupped her breasts and then began playing with her nipples. She was protesting, Jessie could see that, but it wasn’t having any effect. Neither did the fact that she straightened up immediately. The guard just kept playing with her, his eyes on hers, a smile on his face. The doctor read the measure while the little game played out, and it was he who put an end to it, instructing the guard to stand aside. He performed a very thorough breast examination, lifting her breasts, pressing his hands all over them. Then he picked up a tape measure.

Now knowing what would happen if she was difficult, the blonde woman made no attempt to avoid the tape measure as it was threaded through under her arms and around her breasts, then her waists, then her hips.

“And now the photographs,” Jake said.

“But surely the tape…” Jessie caught herself in time, but saw he was looking at her questioningly, his eyebrows raised. He smiled, just a half smile, but a smile nevertheless.

“Surely since it’s being videotaped, we don’t need photographs?” he finished for her. She nodded. “Well, you’re probably right, but it’s part of the process, part of the tradition. And it’s so deliciously humiliating to have to stand nude while permanent record photographs are taken of you from every angle, don’t you think?” Jessie nodded. Jane Carter obviously agreed with him too. Her normally pale face was bright red, and she was looking everywhere but at the camera as she was photographed from the front, from the back, and from each side. Then she was ordered to bend over from the hips, and was photographed again. First, she was photographed from behind, her buttocks clenched tightly together, but not tightly enough to completely conceal her sex from the camera’s searching lens. Then, she was again photographed from the front and both sides, each frame capturing the fall and swing of her dangling breasts.

As soon as she’d straightened up, the doctor began placing flat red circles on parts of her body, on her neck, under one of her arms, inside and just under her left breast, and low down on the right of her groin. Her thick patch of dark pubic hair made it difficult for him to make the red circle stick there.

“Shave coming up,” the Governor predicted, and he was right. The guard without the camera pulled a razor and a small bottle out of his pocket, and while the doctor held the woman steady, his hands on her shoulders, the guard bent down, rubbed some of the lotion onto the right side of her pubic mound, and shaved some of the hair off. Then he made a great show of standing back and viewing his work. The prisoner brought her knee up to cover herself, which caused some laughter amongst the men. Then the guard approached her again, pushed her leg down, and did a similar shave on the other side of her pubic hair.

“We don’t want her to look silly, after all,” the Governor said. “And if she were left half-shaved like that, she’d look like a half-groomed poodle. Now she’s got a bikini trim.” The fact that her bush was now narrower made the lush patch of hair stand out even more. But the red circle stuck.

“Those read her heart rate, perspiration rate, breathing rate, blood pressure and so on,” the Governor said. “You’ll see the doctor tuning his apparatus into it now as the guard leads her to the treadmill.” She wasn’t struggling now, Jessie noticed. She was just walking, not even resisting when the man trailed his hand down over her trapped arms and patted her bottom again. She did blanch when the video camera zoomed in on her breasts, but she didn’t try to pull away.

As she was led onto the long, ugly looking silver machine with the black tread, Jessie looked away, back into the first room. The remaining two women were still there, tied up by their hands, the subject of ongoing scrutiny by the people outside the room. To make matters more entertaining, the four guards in the room were taking turns teasing them, running their hands up and down their bare bodies, tickling at their sides, jogging their breasts up and down with their hands and tickling at their pubic patches. The women were straining about on the ceiling-mounted hooks they were cuffed to, but to no avail. They were trapped there, naked, exposed and teasingly tormented for the edification of their captors and their audience.

Jane Carter was on the treadmill now, running awkwardly, her hands still pinned at her back. The machine was picking up pace and she was having to run faster to keep up with it. A guard stood behind her, at the back of the machine, seemingly ready to catch her if she tumbled. The second guard stood at the side of her, capturing for posterity the way her bosoms bounced wildly about on her chest as she ran. Her nipples were a pink blur, her face red and her expression panicky as she continued to pound on the treadmill.

“She’s probably wondering how it came to this,” the Governor said quietly, startling Jessie. He hadn’t spoken in some time, and he’d moved from one side of her to just behind her, looking over her shoulder at the view. “In the past, she’s jogged every morning, probably wearing designer jogging clothes, good support underwear and shoes, probably along scenic routes, enjoying the fresh air and the wind in her hair. And now, here she is, in a hot little institutional grey room, running naked, her arms tied behind her, her bare breasts almost thumping her in the chin, with three men watching and laughing at her.” He was right. They were laughing. Even the camera man had lowered the camera for an instant, grinning appreciatively as the treadmill quickened again and the woman’s breasts, slick with sweat, went into overdrive. Finally the machine slowed down, and the prisoner, her chest heaving, was allowed to step off.

“She’ll be put through some exercises now,” the Governor said. “Mostly for flexibility and agility. She should get her breath back while she’s doing this.” Yes, but definitely not her dignity. Carter’s hands were uncuffed, then she was made to put her arms straight up above her head and bend down to touch her toes twice, then to turn to her right and do it again, and so on, until she’d performed the exercise in every direction. The video camera captured every move. If that wasn’t bad enough, she had to do the circuit again, this time doing three star-jumps in every position, her face grim, her body bouncing.

“She’s just about ready to start fighting,” the Governor predicted. “We’ll listen in.” He pressed a button and all of a sudden they could hear the voices of the guards and the doctor, and the sound of the prisoner huffing as she jumped.

“That’s it, get those legs wide,” the guard with the camera taunted.

“Now sit-ups,” the doctor said. “Just sit down on the floor, right where you are, and – “
”No!” Carter said, her expression defiant. Startled, Jessie looked at the Governor. He’d read the woman like a book.

“No?” asked the first guard, the one who’d patted her backside and played with her breasts. He stepped forward, his craggy face breaking into a smile.

“No,” she repeated, her arms covering herself. “I insist on speaking to whoever is in charge, and I want some clothes first! This is not acceptable.” The second guard, still aiming the camera at her, was laughing. The doctor rolled his eyes as he turned away.

“What isn’t acceptable, Carter?” the craggy-faced guard asked. He looked older than the other guards, probably in his forties or early fifties. He also continued to look entertained.

“Having to do this, to be examined by male guards,” she said. “I know my rights. I am entitled to be have female guards present.”

“Ohhh,” the guard said, shaking his head. “Dear me. How inefficient of us to not realise that. He smacked his forehead with his palm.” Jessie wished he’d made the smack a lot harder, the sarcastic rat. “Well, I guess we should just go now, Dean.”
”And we should definitely cull the crowd out in the Display Yard and make sure only women stay behind, too,” Dean joined in. “And send all of the men out the front home as well.”

“And the dazzlers should probably all be replaced,” the first guard said. “We’d really better hop to it, hadn’t we? Such a lot of work to do.” Jude Carter was looking steely-eyed and unamused.

“Get me some clothes and then get me the Governor,” she said between tight lips. Dean lost it at that, as did the doctor. Both of them laughed.

“I fail to see what is so funny about – “ she began.

“No, you just fail to see,” the older guard said to her. He stepped closer to her. She stood her ground, Jessie noted. The man was toe to toe with her, now. “You, Carter, are a prisoner in the Shame Institute,” he said clearly. “As such, you are not entitled to female guards, which is just as well, really, because we don’t have any on staff. The processes you are going through now are designed to do two things. They assess how able you are to meet the demands of what you’re going to face over the next month. AND they introduce you to the shame and humiliation that’s going to be your life over the next month. Understand?”

“I insist on – “ she tried again.

“You don’t insist on anything,” he interrupted again. “You are not in a position to insist, request or refuse, Carter. You don’t get to complain to the manager here, Carter. Here, you do what you’re told, when you’re told, or you are punished. Here, all of those body parts you’re trying to cover up no longer belong to you. They’re public property. All of your secrets aren’t going to be secrets any more. You’re going to share them all with all of us, not just us here, but all of the guards and dazzlers, all of the thousands of visitors who’ll come along to have a look and a laugh at you, and all of the millions who’ll watch when you end up in the hands of King Dazzler and The Cat.” Carter had paled. “You have no rights,” he continued. “And you will NOT be seeing the Governor. But you can take heart from the fact that he’s probably seeing you. See that mirror?” He pointed right at Jessie. Carter nodded. “One way glass,” he said. “Guess whose office is on the other side.”

“But – “ Carter was lost now, and she knew it. She looked down at the floor.

“I’m letting you have this little outburst for free,” the guard said. “No punishment, Carter, and soon, you’ll realise just how grateful you should be for that. No punishment, as long as this stops now, and you start doing what you’re told without argument or hesitation. Get it?” There was a pause before the woman nodded. The guard reached out, cupped her face in his hand and lifted it up so she was looking at him.

“Get it?” he asked again.

“Yes,” she said, her eyes not meeting his. “Sir.”
”Good girl,” he approved. “Now shift those arms and smile nicely for the camera while you sit down on the floor and show us all you’ve got and what you can do with it.”

Carter sank to the floor, jumping as her bare bottom touched the cool tiles. Knees bent, but together, she lay back, hands behind her head, and began the sit-ups. She survived those, and the push-ups that followed, her breasts pressing into the tiles on every down, swinging free with every up. Dean bent down to make sure he got the best angle with the video camera.

“And now the verticycle,” the Governor said, turning off the sound. Wanting any excuse to look away from the humiliated prisoner, suffering a fate that could have been hers, could still be hers for all she knew, Jessie looked at him.

“We invented it,” he went on. “It’s sold very well in the community, too.” He sounded like a proud businessman, she thought. Which was what he was, she supposed. He’d turned the Shame Institute into a multi-million dollar industry, and turned himself into a very wealthy man. She looked back. The doctor and guard were helping the woman onto a black seat, strapping a belt across her ribs. There was a gap between the back and base of the seat, and her arms cuffed behind her back again, fit into that. As soon as they were satisfied with how she was placed, the two men tilted the seat back between them, right back until her back was parallel with the floor, her legs up in front of her. In that position, if she let her legs part, she’d have been showing all of them everything, and she was obviously aware of this, because she kept her thighs pressed tightly together, the well-toned muscles taut.

They wheeled the seat over to yet another silver machine. The seat hooked into place, and then each man leaned down and lifted one of her bare feet. She had surprisingly small feet for a tall woman, Jessie noted inconsequentially, attempting to distract herself from the fact that the woman was struggling helplessly, trying to prevent them from dragging her legs apart. She failed, and each foot was buckled securely into a pedal that held it high and wide. The bottom part of the seat folded down and away.

“It’s designed to maximise embarrassment and exposure as much as to test exercise potential,” the Governor said. “As you can see, with her arms pulled behind her, even though she’s lying on her back, her breasts are pushed up high. And with her legs almost straight up, and held apart like that, absolutely everything is on show.” He’d summed it up nicely. The guard with the video camera was approaching her now, walking slowly, in what seemed a deliberate move to drag it out as he approached the part of her body that the prisoner had been trying so desperately to keep hidden. Inexorably the camera came closer and the zoom lens slid out, recording every detail of Jane Carter’s previously private parts for the paying public.

“Now the machine starts,” the Governor went on. “Slowly at first, but then it gets faster, and if she doesn’t use her muscles and start pushing it herself, it will start to hurt. The doctor is telling her that now.” Initially, obviously both shocked and mortified at the position she was in, the prisoner was refusing to cooperate, and her legs were simply being dragged around, but eventually the truth of what the Governor had said hit home to her, and her thigh and calf muscles tensed as she began to absorb the movement and control it herself. Again, her breasts moved about as she strained to match the speed of the machine, and the cameraman made sure to capture their jiggles as well as the constant movement of her exposed sex.

Finding it impossibly difficult to keep watching, Jessie turned away from the window.

“No,” the Governor said firmly. He put his hand on the back of her head and gently turned it back. “You watch,” he said. “This is only the second room. There’s another one to go. And you’re going to watch every stage of the process, imagining yourself down there. Can you imagine it, Porter? Can you imagine what she must be feeling like down there, splayed open and pumping her legs like that, knowing that everything she’s got is out there for everyone to see?” He moved around to look at her set face as he asked. “Can you?”

“Far too well,” she conceded. He nodded.

“Good,” he said. “But I’ll make it a bit more realistic for you, just to make sure.” With that, he reached down and tugged the silly excuse for a t-shirt up and over her head, baring her body completely. He tore it easily down the back and dropped it on the floor. The material of the shorties was obviously designed for ease of removal. Jessie looked resolutely forward as the Governor made a murmur of approval.

“What a curvy little thing you are,” he said. “Big breasts, too. I bet you don’t go around without some serious structural support normally, do you?” Jessie was sitting motionless. With her own hands tied behind her back, her breasts, like those of the woman in the exercise room, were thrust out further than normal. She jumped as his fingertips settled on the upper curve of her right breast.

“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer,” he said, walking his fingers down the slope. She tried to remember what the question was. Something about structural support.

“No,” she said. “I mean yes, I always wear good bras.” His fingers moved lower.

“Small nipples,” he approved. “And very hard.” His fingertip circled, not quite touching it. She tried to concentrate on breathing, on not thinking about the fact that she was sitting nude, her hands tied, unable to run, to protect herself or to call for help. Besides, who would she call to? She was a prisoner, and this man was the boss of the whole show.

“Seems a pity to cover all of this beauty up,” he said, and his fingertips shifted from her breast to her groin, just touching the soft curls there. She couldn’t help herself from squirming then. He didn’t seem to mind.

“There,” he said, removing his hand. “Now you’ve got more of a feel, as it were, for some of the sensations she’s experiencing. Although it’s considerably more extreme in her case.” It certainly was. The woman was being helped off the verticycle now, and led to a square-shaped depression in a corner of the room.

“They’ll wash her before they take her to the third room,” Jake said. “They’ll wash every inch of her except her hair.” The cycle had knocked the fight out of the prisoner, and she was still breathing heavily. She didn’t even struggle when they moved her legs apart and one of the guards aimed a shower hose at her and thoroughly drenched her body. She tried to take a step back when he began to soap up his hands, and the smile on his face was distinctly unpleasant. It was more of a leer than a smile. The doctor guided her back into position and stood there, talking to her and blocking any attempts at escape, as the guard began to rub his hands over her body. Again, the cameraman recorded every part of the wash, every stroke, every smoothing of soap over wobbling flesh, every squirm, every protest. It seemed to take forever before the guard hosed the soap off her again and led her, dripping wet, to the connecting door.

“And that’s the exercise room done,” Jake said. Conscious of her own nudity, of her own shame, Jessie managed to nod in response. That wasn’t a question. She didn’t have to answer, so he didn’t have any excuse to touch her again. Not that he needed an excuse of course. She found herself longing for him to pull the t-shirt back over her, to give her the scant cover it had provided. And then she looked down at the woman being led into the third room, and back at the two squirming women in the first room, and knew that she was lucky by comparison.

“Impressions so far?” he asked her, almost sounding interested. Jessie’s tongue had a tendency to work before she thought sometimes.

“I’m wondering how many breaches of the Geneva Convention I’ve just witnessed,” she said. To her surprise, he smiled.

“None at all,” he said. “Because it applies principally to Prisoners of War, to civilians and to sick and wounded in times of war, and to cultural property. There are, however, a number of policies and guidelines surrounding the treatment of civil and criminal prisoners, and you’ll be pleased to know, counsellor, that we haven’t breached any of them.” His teasing tone gave her permission to continue, although she was watching him warily.

“But the enforced nudity can’t be right,” she said, forcing herself not to glance down at her own. He didn’t glance down either.

“Traditional prisons require nudity at some stage of their admission procedures too,” he said. “Mostly for security and hygiene reasons, but also to demoralise the prisoners. And most of the civil rights and strip search provisions that normally apply to prisoners are waived in the case of the Shame Institute. Provisions such as same-sex guards, for example. This is an experiment, Porter, but nothing illegal occurs here, I can assure you.”

He looked back at the scene in front of them. Scenes from hell, as far as Jessie was concerned.

“The cavity search is performed in the next room,” he said. “So we call it the Examination Room. In fact, we make it more than just a prison cavity search. Because of the contraceptive and anti-menstruation injection you’re all given, we like to have a doctor do a full pelvic exam to ensure that there’s no physical reaction.” It sounded as if he was talking to himself, but he looked at Jessie as he finished. She wondered if she was supposed to be impressed or embarrassed. Given that she was desperately conscious of her state of undress in front of a man old enough to be her father, she went with the latter.

“That’s the head doctor there,” he went on. “He’s a welcoming committee all on his own.” A small, rotund man with pursed lips and a full head of snowy-white hair was standing just inside the door. As Jane Carter was escorted in, having been towelled off thoroughly, he stretched out his arms, put his hands on her waist, and drew her further into the room, his eyes firmly fixed on her breasts.

The Governor scanned the other rooms, then pressed a button on his console.

“Righteous is going into the Exercise Room now,” he said, and Jessie glanced down to see the yellow-haired woman being half led, half pushed through the door. “But it looks like there’s some fun going on in the Holding Room. We’ll listen in here for a while.” There was a roar of noise from the crowd, and he adjusted the volume, fiddling with the buttons until that was background noise and they could clearly hear the guards and prisoner.

The woman, the redhead, kept until last as the Governor had predicted, was shaking her head.

“No,” she was saying. “Come on, leave me some tiny little modicum of dignity, you bastard. Some of those people work for me. Can’t you just leave me alone? Haven’t you done enough?”
”Nowhere near, Petrina,” one of the guards was laughing. He was tall and well-built, with dark brown hair and a very young-looking face.

“That’s Carlos,” the Governor said. Jessie wondered why he bothered, but chose not to ask. “I’m considering him for the next dazzler vacancy. He’s good at his job and he likes his work.” It showed. The man was flashing a lady-killer grin. She tried to distract herself.

“How did the inner sanctum guards get the name “dazzlers”?” she asked. The Governor smiled.

“Patrick and Daniel,” he said. “When we started the ‘Shame Game’ show not long after the Institute opened, any number of people referred to them as ‘dazzlingly handsome’, and a couple of journalists shortened it and called them ‘the dazzlers’. So we played on that, and made sure that all of the Institute guards were good looking.” An image flashed into Jessie’s mind of the bus she’d been following the day her world had ended, the one with King Dazzler and The Cat on it. Dear God. It had never occurred to her that she might one day actually have to meet them.

“Come on,” Carlos was saying. “We already know you’re not a natural redhead. Now we want a good look at the rest of your secrets.”
”No,” she tried yet again to move away from his teasing fingers, but they skimmed up and down her side again, making her squirm and laugh helplessly and without mirth.

“Or so you like being tickled?” he asked. “You’ve got at least another ten minutes yet, Petrina. And there are so many places for me to tickle.” His fingers circled her breasts again.

“Not there!” she insisted.

“Do her nipples again!” someone yelled from outside, and there were cheers as the guard’s fingertips began dancing over the woman’s obviously very sensitive tips. She abused him between gasps of involuntary laughter, dancing about as much as her ties would let her.

“Last chance, Petrina,” the guard said. “Either you spread those legs and lift one of them right up high so we can see all your goodies, or I’m going to tickle the piss out of you for the next ten minutes. And I do mean that literally.” The woman made a sound of fury, closed her eyes tight, and moved her feet apart.

“Further,” he said. “We want to be able to see everything, after all.”

Jessie turned away, skimming over the sight of Philomena Righteous, motionless as photographs were taken of her, and into the third room, gasping as she saw the first woman, Carter, lying on an examination table. Her legs were spread as wide as possible by long metal stirrups that held her ankles apart and one of the guards was resting his hands on her shoulders, holding her down on her back. In addition to the other guard, the one with the video camera, there was a doctor and two other guards. In all, five men were looking with apparent fascination at her widely gaping body. As the first guard had said, she had no secrets now.

As Jessie watched, the doctor said something to the prone, restrained Carter, raised one hand and held his index finger up. Then, grinning broadly, he lowered his hand and touched her, right in the middle of her most inner lips. She jumped and Jessie felt everything she had between her legs tighten in sympathy. To be held so wide, so open, to be touched there and not have any way of stopping it was a horrible thought. She shuddered. Swallowing hard, she mused that if Petrina knew what was in store for her, she probably wouldn’t have bothered fighting so hard to retain her last remaining little slice of dignity and privacy.

“Open your legs,” Jake said to her. She turned to him, eyes wide, ready to protest, and realised that he’d been watching where she was looking.

“Don’t make me say it again,” he warned. Her breath caught in her throat, she turned away from him and looked straight ahead, eyes forward, as she pried her knees apart. It was no surprise when he made her move them wider still, but she was surprised when he didn’t touch her, or even move to get a clearer look.

“Petrina is cooperating now,” he commented, for all the world as if Jessie wasn’t now sitting beside him, displaying every part of herself. Tying to take her mind off that fact (fat chance!), she looked back to the holding room, where the prisoner did indeed have her legs now wide apart as well. The guard had dropped to his knees and was having a good, close look.

“Very nice,” he commented. “Looks like it hasn’t had too much use either, Petrina. Now let’s have this leg bent at the knee and lifted up, nice and high, so our friends outside can see it all.” He did it himself, bending her knee and lifting the leg, swivelling her around a bit to give the best possible view to the onlookers. Camera flashes went off and several whistles sounded. The woman struggled, trying to free her leg from the guard’s grasp.

“Too late now,” he said. “We’re all having a look at your privates. In fact, I’d say they’re publics now, wouldn’t you? There’ll be pictures all over the net of these. That’s Maria Anna Petrina, by the way, people, in case you want to make sure you have all the details accurate. Petrina used to bully her staff, bad girl that she was. But she’s not a bully now, is she? Now she’s just a wicked girl who’s showing all of her naughty bits to as many people as possible. Look at you, Petrina! Have you no shame? These people can see everything, woman!” The prisoner continued to struggle, but he held her firmly in place. He signalled the other guard with a movement of his head.

“Let a few other people through to the front,” he called out to the crowd. “We want to make sure that as many folk as possible get a good, clear view and some photo opportunities here.” As he spoke, the second guard leaned down, grabbed the woman’s other knee and lifted it. And then, as she protested and struggled, he and his colleague moved her legs further and further apart, until she too, like the prisoner in the examination room, was splayed wide and open. Except in her case, there were several hundred people having a look between her legs.

“Smile, Maria!” a man yelled out from the front of the crowd, and the prisoner struggled even more.

“Several of her staff members came along today,” the Governor said. “I suspect that’s one of them, given how hard she’s trying to get away now.” Poor woman, Jessie was thinking. To go from being a senior manager, ruling over her people, to being held, naked and open, for them to mock and take photographs of. There was no doubt she’d been a difficult person to work for, but surely that didn’t justify this?

It seemed that the Governor thought it did. He ensured that Jessie saw at least part of every woman’s ordeal, leaving the sound on so she could hear the crowd jeering at Maria Petrina even while Philomena Righteous jogged, cold-eyed and red-faced, on the treadmill, even as the small, rotund doctor made Jude Carter give a urine sample with all of the guards watching.

“Why is that necessary?” Jessie asked, finally losing her battle to keep her temper under control. “I don’t mean the urine sample, but why does the poor woman have to do it in front of them? I mean, it’s not as if she has anywhere to hide another sample to substitute for it, is it?” Her voice had risen, and so had the Governor’s eyebrows.

“Be careful, Porter,” he cautioned mildly. “And open those knees again.” She did it, already regretting her outburst. It didn’t seem to have bothered him, though, because he answered her.

“It’s not necessary for security purposes,” he said simply. “It is part of the overall shaming process.”

“The dehumanising process,” she added, without thinking, her temper already stewing in her belly again. The Governor turned to her and grinned, blue eyes crinkling at the edges. He looked like a mischievous grandfather, one who had been extraordinarily good-looking in his youth, she would imagine.

“That temper is going to get you into a lot of trouble in the Institute, Porter,” he said. “I’m going to enjoy seeing the results.” Ah well, she thought. In for a penny, in for a pound.
”Do you hate women that much?” she asked. That shook the grin. But he was obviously considering it.

“I don’t hate women at all,” he said, having weighed his words. “And neither do any of the dazzlers. I can’t vouch for all of the guards, but we are very careful to make sure that any of the men who have anything major to do with the prisoners are not woman-haters, or sufferers from any sort of psychopathology.”
”So how can you do all of this?” she asked. He glanced down at her open legs.

“You’re a brave young woman, Porter,” he said. “I can do all of this because I loathe prisons, but I have a strong sense of justice. The women who come through here are almost always ones who have been very lucky in their lives, either in terms of their talents, their intelligence or their background. To a woman, they are all attractive physically, some more than others. And yet, in the face of all of that munificence, they have chosen to commit crimes. Left to the old justice system, they’d have been incarcerated in prison, some of them for up to five years. Here, they are punished, but only for a month – perhaps a little longer if they don’t make enough points during their stay. And here, instead of forcing them into hard labour or conditions in which they will be preyed upon by more violent prisoners, we punish them by taking away their dignity, their pride and their right to their own bodies.”

“And you don’t feel any guilt over that?” she asked, amazed not only at the way he justified it all, but also at his fluency in expressing himself. He frowned.

“Why should I feel guilty?” he asked. “I’m not the one who committed the crime. They are. And, I’ll remind you Porter, you are.” She didn’t bother to argue. She’d been arguing her case for more than two months now, and no-one except Angela had believed her. She couldn’t imagine why Jake Miller, Governor of the Shame Institute, would even care.

While Philomena Righteous and Maria Petrina were still being put through the degradations of the last two rooms, Jane Carter was taken out of the Examination Room and led to the small foyer that opened into the Display Yard. The Governor explained this to Jessie, although he didn’t say anything more about the yard itself. It wasn’t necessary. She’d heard about it – not only from the newspapers and magazines that often referred to it, but also from Angela, who’d been through it. She’d heard it described as the “descent into shame hell”, and when the Governor turned her chair around and clicked the console at a large wall screen, bringing the yard itself into view, she could see why.

The Display Yard was an exercise in exposure and public shaming. It formed the conduit between the arrival hall and the Institute itself and was made up of a state- of-the-art glass and perspex tube. This tube, perfectly transparent, snaked around, and was lined on all sides by people. On any given intake day, there was upwards of a thousand onlookers in the display yard, and the sale of tickets for that alone reaped enough money to pay for the salary of almost all of the staff.

“They were three deep the day Sienna Mallow came through,” the Governor said.

“I’m not surprised,” Jessie replied, not wanting to risk a reprimand for not acknowledging his comment.

“Did you watch that series?” he asked.

“No,” she replied. “I used to watch her when she was anchoring the current affairs program, but I didn’t watch the series that was filmed here. I liked her. I still can’t believe that she planted witnesses and tampered with stories.” He smiled, shaking his head at her.

“She did it,” he assured her. “And a person was falsely accused and went to jail because of her. It was one of fate’s little ironies that she interviewed Patrick and Daniel only a week before she was caught,” he said. “Did you see that program?”

”Yes,” Jessie admitted. Like almost everyone else in the country, she had watched it, the first time King Dazzler and The Cat had appeared on any television program other than their own. Most people had done so out of a fascination with the two men who were the faces and personalities of the Shame Institute. She’d watched it because of their connection to Angela. She’d been astounded, not only at their undeniably astounding good looks, but also at their easy charm and friendliness with each other and with Sienna Mallow herself. Daniel, the dark haired one known as “The Cat”, had been enigmatic, answering many questions with grins or oblique answers, but Patrick, “King Dazzler” had been open, flirtatious and chatty.

“It caused all sorts of logistical challenges for us when the Judge ordered that her entire experience here be videotaped in detail and presented as a series on her station,” Jake said. “Our little video tapes are only intended for limited, small group viewing. We had to bring several of her cameramen in here and make room for them, every step of the way.”

“Her own cameramen?” Jessie asked. He nodded, still smiling in memory.

“And her production crew,” he said. “And it became very evident, very fast, that she wasn’t popular with all of the people who worked for her. They didn’t miss an opportunity to record her shame for her previously adoring public. There was one show alone devoted to her processing in the intake hall. It finished off with her run through the exercise yard. She had to do it twice, because she tried to cover her breasts when she had to run up and down the stairs. Lots of good footage there, particularly since we allowed them to install a camera run under some of the obstacles she had to straddle while she was running.” Jessie’s knees instinctively moved together.

“Here we go,” he said, pointing at the large screen in front of them. “Carter is about to go through. The guard is explaining to her that if she deliberately covers herself, she’ll have to start over, just like poor Sienna. It’ll take her about ten minutes to work her way through the yard. We can watch from here.” Jessie had looked away. “We WILL watch from here, Porter,” he said, his voice firm again. Jessie looked back, but she made sure she didn’t look directly. She didn’t want to watch as the poor woman set out down a slight decline, running to make the experience shorter. People on both sides of the tube were already cheering and laughing at her.

”Humans weren’t designed to run around in the nude,” the Governor commented.
”No,” she said. Or to crawl around. Jane Carter had reached the first obstacle, where she had to get down on her hands and knees and proceed in that manner through a clear tunnel. There was a ridge in the middle of the floor, leaving her no choice but to part her knees as she went, and the tunnel curved around, ensuring that a lot of people scored a view of what she was unwillingly revealing. Then she was up and running again, up and down the sloped floor, arms away from her body in an attempt to ensure that she didn’t have to run this hell again. Cameras flashed everywhere, recording every bounce of breast, every bob of buttocks, and the constant flush on her face.

“Tomorrow, I’ll show you some of the other games, challenges and punishments we have here,” the Governor said, surprising her. He was going to keep her with him for another day yet? “We made sure Sienna Mallow was put through almost all of them.”
”Almost?” Jessie asked. He smiled at her.

“All of the interesting ones,” he said. “In fact, the producers specifically asked us to put her through the worst of them, and to record everything. We even recorded the nightly visits to her room by the dazzlers.” Jessie caught her breath at that. Angela had told her that dazzlers had come to her at night, offering her points if she pleased them. She’d also admitted that she’d agreed on more than one occasion. Scoring those points had been all important.

“Patrick visited her the night after she was on ‘The Shame Game’,” the Governor continued, seemingly determined to detail the whole series, since she was apparently one of the two percent of adults in the country who hadn’t watched it. “Of course, she’d done her best to talk him and Daniel into going easy with her on the show. After all, she’d interviewed them. She’d even had lunch with them afterwards and they’d been very chummy with her.”
”Did they?” Jessie asked. “Go easy on her, I mean?” The Governor laughed.

“If anything, they were worse than usual,” he said. “And her cameramen recorded every minute of her trying to bargain with them, trying to talk them out of it. The Cat in particular drew out every second of his part of the punishment.”

“Did she throw him out when he visited her that night?” Jessie asked, outraged.
”It was Patrick who visited her – King Dazzler,” the Governor said, shaking his head again. “You may be the only person in the country who could get them confused. And no, she didn’t throw him out. Some of the best footage on that series was of her straddling him, bouncing up and down naked on his lap and trying to show him how good she could be while he sat there, almost fully dressed, managing to look totally bored. He’s a real showman, our Patrick.” And a real bastard, by the sound of it, Jessie thought to herself. She didn’t say it, though. The Governor sounded very proud of his head dazzler.

“The Cat went to her in her last week, but only because she begged him to,” he said.

“She begged him?” He nodded.

“As she was leaving the common room, after providing some entertainment for the late night crowds, she approached him and pleaded with him to come to her. For some reason, he did.”
”Let me guess what the reason was,” Jessie said sarcastically.

“I’ve already warned you once to watch your tone, Porter,” the Governor said. Obviously criticism of his star performers was not allowed. “And your guess would be wrong. She wanted him, because of that idiot Carlton. He has a standing offer that any inmate who scores all twenty of the dazzlers gets an automatic interview on his show. She wanted a chance to tell her side of the story, and that was going to be her only chance.”

“He interviews ALL of the inmates?” Jessie asked, incredulous. She’d only watched the Carlton Show a couple of times, too. It was a midday program that was second only to ‘The Shame Game’ in popularity, and was aimed at the same demographic.

“No,” the Governor said. “Only two inmates have ever scored the full twenty, and the first one was a mistake. Patrick didn’t realise Daniel had already been with her. We introduced more stringent checks on the recording systems after that. Sienna Mallow wasn’t a mistake, though. Daniel made a very calculated decision there. He agreed, as long as she paid thirty of the points she already had.”

“He made her pay?” Jessie was astounded. The Governor chuckled.

“Here, let me see if I can call up that part of the series,” he said. “It makes good viewing. You watch Carter going through the yard while I find it.” He skimmed through some buttons on the controller he was holding while Jessie obediently looked in the general direction of the screen. Jane Carter was running up and down a series of stairs now, every mobile part of her body moving in different directions. She finished it and paused to catch her breath. The crowd noise around her obviously spurred her to keep going, to end the humiliation as fast as possible. The next segment was going to require her to grasp an overhead bar with both hands and walk a rope, carefully and slowly placing her feet. If she fell, she was going to have to do it again. Despite herself, Jessie found herself watching as the woman, face set and determined, placed her first foot on the rope.

“Here,” the Governor said. “We’ll leave Carter to her naked contortions for now.” There were more than enough people to watch them, after all. The image flickered, then clarified, showing a woman Jessie vaguely recognised as Sienna Mallow sitting on the edge of a simple, white bed in a plain room, the sides of which were painted white, the back wall of which was a mirror, and the front wall of which was glass. Leaning against the open, sliding glass door in that wall was Daniel, otherwise known as “The Cat”.

“Why would I do that?” he asked, his voice deep and amused.
”For old time’s sake?” she responded, her own voice melodious and cultivated. It was at odds with the rest of her. She was wearing only the short grey t-shirt, her hair was pushed back from her face, which was devoid of makeup, and she looked much smaller and less important than she had when sitting in the anchor chair for her own nightly television program.

“What old times?” Daniel asked. He, on the other hand, looked glossy, handsome and huge.

“My show. The lunch we had,” she said, obviously trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. “Daniel, you flirted with me.” He straightened up and she realised her mistake. “I’m sorry. Sir, you flirted with me.” The dark haired man shrugged.

“He should have punished her for calling him by name,” the Governor said. “But he and Patrick have a lot more leeway than the other dazzlers.”

“Sir, I need this,” the woman on the screen said. “Please? I’ll make sure you enjoy it.” Daniel wasn’t looking at her.
”You need to get on Carlton’s program,” he said simply.

“Yes,” she replied, just as simply.

“And what’s in it for me?” he countered. The woman looked stunned for an instant.

“Me,” she responded, with a flicker of pride in her voice. He looked at her then, up and down, from untidy hair to bare feet and back. Jessie wanted to reach out and slap him just for that look. Then his expression softened just a fraction.

“Okay,” he said. “But it’ll cost you thirty points.” The Governor was smiling broadly.
”I have to pay thirty points for you?” Sienna Mallow was outraged. She dug her fingers into the side of her bunk.

“No sheets, see?” the Governor pointed. “The bunks are covered with a special material that sponges down rather than requiring sheets. That way prisoners can’t use them to cover themselves.” Or hang themselves, Jessie added in her mind.

“You want me, you pay,” The Cat said. “Good night, Mallow. Sleep well.” You could see the calculation in the woman’s eyes. Thirty points in her last week meant that she was going to have to work hard, accept more humiliations in order to earn more to keep herself out of forced labour afterwards. But a perfect dazzler score was going to net her an opportunity to revive her crashed career.

“Alright,” she said. Daniel, who’d been looking away from her, rolled his eyes up to look at the ceiling.

“Desperate woman,” he said, turning back. “Strip and display, Mallow.” He moved into the room as he spoke, and the glass door slid shut behind him. The woman stood up, removed the t-shirt and stood naked in front of him, her hands clasped behind her neck. His back to the camera, Daniel reached into his pocket and pulled out a console like the one the Governor was holding.

“And this was very bad of him,” the Governor said, sounding stern, as the lights in Mallow’s room went out. “For some reason, he didn’t want to be recorded having sex with her. But it made a nice finish to the show, I have to say.” What they were watching was the program that had aired to the public. A clock appeared on the screen and the hands moved in a blur to almost exactly forty minutes later. The lights went on in Mallow’s room and Daniel opened the sliding glass door and went out.
”I feel so cheap,” he deadpanned to the camera, and walked away, laughter from the cameraman following him. Jessie looked away, shaking her head. The Governor noticed.

“Once you get in there, you’ll find out that what he just did is unusual in many ways,” he said. “The dazzlers don’t turn the lights off – ever, and when they visit a woman, they generally spend about ten minutes with her. Obviously Daniel took some time and made sure she enjoyed it as well.”
”How do you know that?” she asked, her outrage overcoming her caution. He let it pass, but only because he wanted to prove his point.

“Look at her,” he pointed to the screen. In the room, Sienna Mallow lay naked and asleep on her bunk, her lips curved in a smile.

He pressed a button and the screen flickered again and then zeroed in on Carter, still in the tube.

“She’s at Heartbreak Hill,” the Governor said. “That’s the last incline before the entrance.” Jessie had overheard people using all of these terms, things like ‘Heartbreak Hill’ and ‘Spread and Crawl’ and ‘Splay Slide’. She’d just never watched before. She wished she wasn’t watching now. The woman was trying to crawl up a steep, slippery slope, and was sliding backwards every few feet. The Governor tutted.

“You need to take it at a run,” he said.

“She looks exhausted,” Jessie pointed out. Carter was at the bottom of the slide again, gasping.

At the top, way up, on a flat platform, a door opened and two men walked out, wearing black jeans and black t-shirts. Only a quick glance at them was enough for Jessie to tell that they were dazzlers. They were both young, handsome and built like athletes. The Governor saw where she was looking.

“Robert is on the left, the one with the long hair, and the other one is John. He’s our newest dazzler, an ex jeans model with the right IQ and temperament for the job. The crowd likes him.” They were indeed cheering wildly. The Governor pressed a button and the uproar came through the speakers. “They like all the dazzlers, but they have their favourites,” he said. “Oh dear me. Carter has made a big mistake there.” The woman had rolled onto her side, her arms folded over her.

“She covered herself!” someone in the crowd noticed. “She has to do it over!” The mob around him picked up the call. “Do over! Do over!” Jessie’s heart went out to the woman even more. She had to do it again? When she was so close? The Governor glanced at Jessie and read her expression easily. His own face was impassive.

“One of the four seniors will come out,” he said. “Probably Russ. He’ll decide whether she has to do it again.” As he spoke, the door opened again, and there was a roar from the crowd as a tall, dark-haired man stepped through. Since he’d just been on the screen a couple of minutes before, Jessie would have had no trouble in recognising him, even if he hadn’t been one of the most celebrated heart-throbs in the country.

The Governor smiled. “They’ll like that,” he approved, again sounding proud. “The Cat doesn’t put in an appearance very often.” With a flair for the dramatic, the man spread his arms and bowed to the crowd before sliding gracefully down the slope to the woman. He bent to her. Thanks to the sound system the Governor had activated, they could hear him.

“Can you stand up, Carter?” he asked. The woman, gasping for breath, shook her head.

“Here, take my hand,” he said, holding it out to her. The crowd was yelling “Do over!” again, as The Cat helped her to her feet.

“Deep breath,” he ordered, his one hand on her shoulder, the other under her chin, tilting her face up to his.

“I can’t,” she gasped.

“Yes you can,” he insisted, his face expressionless, but his tone sympathetic. “Come on, from the bottom of your lungs, one deep breath in. That’s it. Good. Keep breathing. Okay, I’m not sending you back.” He shook his head at the crowd. A couple booed, but he ignored them as he bent down and picked the nude woman up in his arms. The boos were good-natured but loud, and he swung around in a full circle, baring his teeth and growling like the big cat he was named after. Then, with a laugh, he took three quick steps and ran easily up the slope, his fitness and strength supplemented by the traction on his shoes. The crowd was cheering again by the time he reached the top, where he put Jane Carter on her feet, turned around, and bowed again. Then he went through the door, the woman behind him, and the other two dazzlers followed. The door closed.

“In a minute, we’ll have Righteous,” the Governor said. “And Petrina will be moving through to the third room, too. But I think you’ve seen enough for now.” He stood up. “I’ll copy Daniel’s move and carry you down to the doctor now,” he added, and before she had time to even process that, he tugged her out of her chair, spun her round and undid the cuffs from her wrists. Then, while she was still enjoying the freedom of movement, he turned her again and picked her up, tipping her over his shoulder. Jessie folded an arm back, trying to cover the parts of her she knew had to be exposed by this position.

He was stronger than she would have expected, and he carried her effortlessly down the corridor, through one door, and then out through another, which he unlocked first and then locked behind him. Looking around from her awkward position, Jessie could see that she was in the second room – the exercise room. The small, rotund man with the full head of white hair and white coat was packing up equipment in the corner. He was the doctor who had been in the third room before, so it seemed that they had swapped. Perhaps it was hard work performing pelvic examinations in front of an audience, Jessie thought cynically. She kept the thought to herself.

“Ah, here’s our other little girlie,” the doctor said, his voice high and cloyingly sweet. “I wondered where she’d got to.” Jessie squirmed, and the Governor put her down.

“I need you to have a look at her ankle, Frank,” he said. “And you might as well give her a physical while she’s here – but no exercise.”

“Of course not,” said the man, the doctor, he seemed to be. “We can’t have her injuring herself, now. Can you walk over here, cherub?” Cringing inwardly, both at the man’s tone and his silly endearment, Jessie limped over to him.

“Yes, you have hurt that, haven’t you?” he said, patting her cheek. “I’ll look at that later. But first, let’s have a good look at your titties. Shift that arm.” At first, Jessie thought she’d misheard, not the intent, but the choice of words. Then she saw the smirk on his face and knew she hadn’t. She shifted her hands and stood still, her arms at her side, conscious not only of the doctor, but of the Governor, who was standing beside her. The doctor made very unprofessional noises of approval.

“Oh, very pretty,” he said. “I do like big titties on a small-framed girl. And those hard little nipples are such a sweet colour, too. And look! Someone whose carpet matches the drapes! Wonders will never cease. Mark that one down in the record books, Jake.”

“Get on with it, Frank,” the Governor said. The doctor smiled a tight little smile that pursed his rather full lips together.

“You’re no fun,” he said. “Weight first. Walk over here, sweet cheeks. Take your time. With this sort of a view, we don’t mind waiting.” He went through the procedure with her, weighing her, measuring her height and then taking her bodily dimensions with the tape measure, his pudgy fingers lingering in all the wrong places. Since he had no assistant, he had to record everything himself, which meant she had to stand waiting for much longer than the other women had.

“Now no treadmill or cycle, which is a pity,” he said. “Because I would have loved to see those puppies bouncing about, but still. Hands up above your head, lovely. That’s it.” He proceeded to examine her breasts thoroughly, pressing, probing and circling in to the nipples, each of which he gave a few tweaks to. “Mmmmhmmm,” he approved again, bouncing both of her breasts in his hands. Then he reached behind her and patted her rear.

“Turn around and let me see your spine,” he ordered. He chuckled unpleasantly as she turned. “Well, the boys are going to love working on that cute, plump little butt, aren’t they?” The cute, plump little butt in question tightened at his taunt, and tightened still further as he ran his hand up and down Jessie’s spine. He patted her on the backside again. “I’m going to call you ‘CPB’, for ‘cute plump little butt’. He gave it yet another friendly pat. “Now, the last girl should be in the foyer by now,” he said. “And even if she isn’t, we can wait in there while Neville finishes up with her.” He opened the door to the mercifully empty Examination Room. Petrina was either in the foyer or on her way through the Yard by now, and the guards and doctor had left by the side doors.

Jessie, resigned, started to walk towards the room, but winced as her right foot hit the ground. Again, the Governor picked her up.

“We forgot the photos!” the doctor exclaimed, spinning around. “Where’s my brain? Put her down again, Jake.”
”We’ll do them after the pelvic exam,” the Governor said. “And after you’ve bandaged her ankle.”
”You’re the boss,” the doctor said. He led the way, the Governor following, Jessie, naked and uncomfortable, folded over his shoulder, very conscious of the view she was presenting.

The table was as unpleasant as it had looked from the office, and even though there were no guards to hold her hands above her head, she still felt incredibly vulnerable and exposed and cold.

“We’ll just adjust these to fit your knees instead of your ankles,” the doctor said. He smiled broadly at the way she was lying, arms at her sides, legs together. “Don’t you love how they clamp everything up?” he asked Jake. “They all do it. Even though they know we’re going to have those leggy-weggies wide open very soon.” She was revolted by his baby talk as much as the expression on his face, but she had no option but to lie there and put up with it. It was a small consolation to see the look of distaste flit across the Governor’s face, but the knowledge that he was standing there, fully dressed, while she lay naked on the table in front of him, took away any collegiate spirit she may have felt towards him.

“There we go, now they’ll fit your little knees,” he said. “Let’s have a good look at you. That’s it, up we go, and nice and wide, and look at all of those shiny little pink bits! I think she’s enjoying this, Jake.” Trying hard not to squirm (and failing), Jessie looked up at the ceiling as he chuckled. She heard the snap of rubber gloves going on, then the touch of his fingers between her legs.

“No problems of a menstrual nature?” he asked inspecting all of her parts in turn. Jessie’s body tried to tighten everything up, but with her legs held wide apart, it wasn’t possible.

“No,” she said, her voice tight to make up for it.

“Or of a sexual nature?” He tickled at her clitoris, making her jolt.

“No,” she said, her voice sounding strangled now.

“Good,” he said. She felt his finger positioned at the entrance to her body and stiffened every muscle.

“Use lubricant,” the Governor spoke. The doctor stopped.

“She’ll juice up quickly enough,” he said.

“Use it,” the Governor insisted. “No pain, Frank. Ever. I want you to use it for all of them. I noticed you didn’t with Carter.” The doctor sighed and turned away. An instant later, Jessie felt something cold and wet at the same point, then the unmistakable feeling of his finger sliding inside her.

Several uncomfortable, poking, prodding moments later, while he pressed down on her belly from the outside and explored her from the inside, the finger was removed and the rubber glove thrown away.

“Enema?” he suggested hopefully.

“No,” the Governor said. “But search her there, too. Just in case. Don’t bother flipping her over, just do it here.”

“Now Jake, you’re spoiling all my fun,” the doctor said. Jessie remembered seeing Jane Carter on her hands and knees, legs apart, breasts dangling, back arched and bottom presented high, and she silently thanked the Governor. Then she heard another rubber glove snap into place and decided she didn’t feel all that thankful after all.

Red-faced, she sat up unaided once the stirrups were unclipped, and stayed there, sitting on the table as the doctor examined her ankle. Surprisingly gentle now, he carefully manipulated her foot, checking for pain and stiffness. He sniffed as he finished.

“Annoying,” he said. “She needs to rest this for at least a week,” he said. “I’ll strap it up, and she’ll need to keep it elevated for a couple of hours. Think about using ice on it a few times a day, too. Wrap the ice up in a cloth and hold it on it to keep the swelling down. I suppose that means she can’t go through to the Institute today?”

“Not unless she’s going to crawl through the entire Display Yard,” the Governor said. “Strap it up, Frank. I have to get back to work.”
”I’ll bring her through when I’m done, if you like,” the doctor said. “No trouble at all.” Jessie did not like the look in his eyes as he said that. She didn’t like his eyes at all. They were small and piggy, very intelligent and very hard. And they were looking straight at her nipples.

“No, I’ll wait,” the Governor said. A few minutes later, a very neat bandage was supporting her ankle, making it feel much better.

“I think I can walk with this on,” she said, as she slid off the table.

“I’d rather you didn’t injure it further,” the Governor said, scooping her up over his shoulder yet again.

“Besides, it’s a nice angle,” the doctor added, reaching out to give her upturned backside a light smack, his fingers lingering on the sensitive parts he’s just been poking around in. “Photos, Jake?”

As the Governor had said before, there was something extremely humiliating about being forced to pose for nude photographs, knowing they would be kept as a permanent file record, having to stand there, hands behind her head and body completely exposed, while the doctor recorded her from every angle, then made her bend down for more pictures.

“Look at those titties swing,” he chuckled. “Can’t wait for the boys to get her into the BB game. I’ll make sure I get a tape of that. And there’s just a hint of her privates between those round little buttocks. That’s a nice photo. I’ll have a print of that one, too.” He let her straighten up. “I have quite a collection,” he informed her. “All of the pretty ones, all of their titties and their private parts, up on my walls where I can look at them whenever I want to.” What a sick man, Jessie thought, and her opinion must have been conveyed in her eyes, because his face tightened into a scowl.

“And you’re a criminal, girlie,” he said. “So there’s not a thing you can do about it.”

“Come on, Porter,” the Governor said. Her position over his shoulder was no more comfortable than it had been, but at least it meant that he was taking her away from the doctor. Her pleasure at that faded when it became apparent that he was carrying her out through the Holding Room. He didn’t go to the Chute; instead, he we went to the side of the room, unlocked a door and walked outside. Jessie made a quiet noise of protest as she felt the sunshine on her skin.

“Not that I need to reassure you, but everyone is in the Display Yard,” he said, sounding amused again. “And it’s only a short walk. Which is just as well. You’re only a little thing, but you’re getting heavy.”