Chapter Two

It was, as he said, only a short walk to the small house just over the track that led to the main gates of the Institute. The house was white stucco, and was surrounded by dark green bushes and flowering gardens. He paused to unlock the green front door before opening it and carrying her inside.

“You’ll be staying here until I’ve decided what to do with you,” he said. “Don’t abuse my hospitality, Porter.” Nude, her arms folding over her body, Jessie wondered what “abusing hospitality” constituted. Would, for example, asking for something to wear be considered abuse? The need for clothes was becoming more pressing, because in addition to being helplessly embarrassed, she was cold. The inside of the house was quite cool, and the wooden floors and curtained windows didn’t help.

Apart from the temperature, the house was very pleasant, with plush furnishings, high tech equipment and clever use of space. The living room flowed into a small dining area slotted into a bay window that curved into the garden. Off the dining area was a neat, efficient-looking kitchen. Jessie could see only two doors coming from the living area, and presumed they were bedrooms.
”This is my residence when I’m living on site,” the Governor said. “It’s small, but it has everything I need, including eyes into the Institute.” He indicated the far wall of the living room. Looking closely, Jessie could see that it was, in fact, made up of many small monitor screens. It seemed her enforced viewing of what lay ahead of her was not over yet.

“Sit down,” he said, indicating the chairs in the living room. She limped over and sat, feeling immeasurably better that at least one part of her was now covered. “I’ll have someone bring another shortie over for you,” he said, pressing yet another button on the console. Surprised and utterly confused, Jessie gave into temptation and curled up in the chair, covering her body as well as she could, and resting her head on the cushioned material. Why was he keeping her here? What did he have in mind for her? And why was she even bothering to wonder, when she had no say in her own destiny anyway?

……………………

She received no answers to that. For the rest of the day, she sat, foot up on a footstool, ice packed around her ankle, and read a book, left to her own devices by the Governor, who spent most of his time behind the door of one of the rooms. It did occur to her to make a run for it, but she dismissed the idea quickly. One, she had nowhere to run to; two, she was wearing an excuse for a t-shirt that barely covered the essentials; and three, she’d be making a limp for it, courtesy of her weak ankle. Despite the functioning kitchen, lunch was delivered by a guard, who said nothing to her as he wheeled a trolley in, set two plates on the table, and then walked over to knock on the door the Governor was behind. He did direct a look at her, though, and the curiosity in his expression confused Jessie even more. The Governor keeping a prisoner in his residence was obviously not the norm.

It wasn’t until evening that the Governor came out and turned on the viewing screens.

“Watch,” he instructed her. “The women are fed in their cells unless they’re serving food to the dazzlers, in which case they eat in the dining hall. They’re fed early, so they can get to the night’s activities.” One screen showed a long room, painted blue, in which a group of men sat, eating. Two naked women were carrying trays to and from the table. While Jessie watched, one of the men stood up and took a tray from one of the women, saying something to her before carrying it over to the servery. Jessie focused on the man. She couldn’t be sure with the small screen, but it looked like it might be the golden-haired one, the one they called King Dazzler.

“Why did he do that?” she asked. The Governor looked at her. He’d been looking at other screens.

“What?” he asked.

“The man there, in the bottom left hand screen,” she said. “He took the tray from her and carried it over for her.”
”He must have thought she was carrying too much,” he answered simply. “Apart from exercise, we don’t let the women exert themselves too much. We don’t want pulled muscles or injuries, after all.” He looked pointedly at her foot, still propped up on the footstool. “And Patrick is more careful about that sort of thing than most.” So it was King Dazzler. Jessie returned her attention to the screen, but he’d sat down again, his back to the camera.

On the next screen along, a woman was showering, in a clear glass cubicle with a mirror at the back. A dazzler stood beside it, watching, and in the very next screen, Jessie could see a group of people standing outside the building watching the woman showering on a large projection screen.

“All of the showers are shown outside,” the Governor said. “And the dazzler is there to make sure that she washes behind her ears thoroughly and doesn’t try to cover up.” The woman was naked in a clear shower. How much covering up could she do?

“There’s Carter again,” the Governor said. “Top line, three in from the right.” Jessie turned to look. The blonde woman whose progress through the admission procedures she’d unwillingly witnessed was in a room just like the one Sienna Mallow had occupied. There was no privacy; it was all mirror and glass and white walls. She was not alone, however. There was a large man with her, a large man wearing a red and black checked flannel shirt and grey trousers that had seen better days. He was balding and overweight, and beside him, Jane Carter looked small and decidedly underdressed in her little t-shirt. Her shortie, Jessie corrected herself.

“We’ll blow this one up,” the Governor said. “She gave in early. Most of the time, the prisoners hold out for a few days before they ask to build up points. This man will be someone from her past, someone who lodged a request to be part of her punishment. You know about the points system?” Jessie shook her head, even though she did know some of it. She wanted to hear it from him.

“No, I don’t,” she said.

“I can’t believe your ignorance on this subject,” he said. “It‘s almost wilful, Porter.” There was just a hint of humour in his tone, but she chose to ignore it. This was not a safe man to relax with. “This is one of the unique features of the Shame Institute experience,” he said, slipping into lecture mode. Jake Miller had been interviewed many, many times about his creation, and he could talk at length on any aspect of it. He continued. “When a woman is chosen for here, once she’s been cleared through our selection process, we post her name in all of the major media outlets.” Jessie nodded. She remembered the humiliation of seeing her own name in the black bordered “Shame Institute” section, knowing that her students, their parents and the school officials would all have seen it too.

“And we invite anyone who has suffered at the hands of the prisoner to contact us, making a case as to why they should be included in the punishment,” he said. “We get a few cranks. We got one in your case, incidentally. He wrote to us saying that he’d been jilted by a woman named Jessica, so he wanted to help punish you.” The Governor didn’t mention that there had only been one other to contact them in Jessie’s case. She didn’t need to know that, or to know that it was one of the reasons why he’d been relieved to have the excuse of her ankle to pull her out of the Chute while he made some decisions about her.

“Did you agree to it?” she asked. He raised his eyebrows at her.

“What do you think?” he asked, sarcasm in his tone. “We accept only those who have a real grievance against the prisoner. Often we have hundreds of people contact us about a single prisoner. Carter was very popular: she had nearly ninety respondents. She’s lucky we only chose three.”
”Am I allowed to ask what those three people are used for?” Jessie said. He nodded.

“You are. Obviously they’re all used to increase the shame factor in some way. This man, for example.” He scanned the screen of his console, pressed some buttons and read the details. “Ralph Grimshaw, his name is, dated Jane Carter for two years while they were at high school. He was the star footballer, and went on to play college football as well. He intended to marry Carter straight after college, but she ditched him.”

”And that’s a crime?” Jessie asked.

“No, but it’s definitely a grievance,” the Governor responded. “Particularly since she refused to sleep with him during the entire time they were dating, protesting that she wanted to wait until they were married. He thought she was old-fashioned but sweet. He didn’t find out until after they’d broken up that she’d been doing half of the football team and laughing at him behind his back.”

“But…why would she do that?” Jessie didn’t understand at all. She didn’t understand the look the Governor gave her when she asked that, either.

“Some women don’t need a reason,” he said. “In this case, Ralph was the school hero, which must have added to Carter’s popularity. Basically, she used him. So now, he gets to use her in return. I’ll turn the volume up so we can hear what’s going on, and I’ll expand this screen.” At the touch of some buttons, the small square took over seven of the others around it, turning into something approaching a movie screen. The speakers clicked into life.

“…to love watching you dance,” Grimshaw was saying. “Your tits weren’t as big then, but hell, they were plenty big enough to move. And when you danced, they sure moved. Every boy in the place used to be looking right at them. And at your sweet little ass when you swung it around. Of course, they were seeing a lot more of them than I was, weren’t they, Janey?” He walked to the one chair in the room, sat down and crossed his arms. “Take that damned shirt off and let me have a good look now, girl,” he said.

“Ralph, I’d like to explain,” Jane Carter said, standing awkwardly, tugging at the hem of the shortie, trying to keep it within the bounds of decency. The big man shook his head.

“Not interested, Janey,” he said. “Now, do you want to make them fifty points or not?”

“Yes, I do, but…”
”No buts about it,” he said. “’Cept the butt I’m about to see, of course. Take that shirt off and dance for me now, Janey. Swing it and shake it, just like you used to, and let me see all that good stuff you never let me see before.”

“Each woman needs to build up three hundred points before she leaves here,” the Governor explained. “They’re told that by the dazzlers when they arrive in the Institute. They can build up points by working in the kitchen, in the laundry, on work detail and so on. They can also build them up by letting the dazzlers use them at night.” Jessie shook her head without thinking.

“In a prison, they’d be being used by butch dykes for nothing,” he said crudely. “So don’t get too prissy about it, Porter. The dazzlers, for all that the sex is fast and basic, all know how to make sure a woman is aroused enough to not be hurt and to not hate it. There are never any complaints about that part of the point scoring, let me assure you.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she said bravely.
”You’ll probably be in a position to give me your own first-hand opinion of it, soon,” he responded, silencing her. “The people who are selected to assist in the experience, people like Ralph here, they’re worth fifty points. That’s why we only allow three of them to be part of it. Can’t have it being too easy, after all.”

“And if they don’t make the three hundred points?” Jessie asked.

“Then they have to serve another month as a maid in the house of one of the people they wronged in committing whatever crime put them here,” he said. “Which is usually a humiliating experience in itself; especially considering that they spend most of that month totally naked.”

“I can see why Sienna Mallow was so annoyed at having to give up thirty points for The Cat,” Jessie said. The Governor gave a short burst of laughter.

“Women all over the country would give up a hell of a lot more than thirty points to get The Cat into their beds,” he said.

“Well?” Ralph Grimshaw demanded loudly, drawing their attention. “What’s it to be?”

Her head down, Carter considered her options for a few seconds. Then, blushing, she lifted the shortie up and over her head, throwing it onto the bed.

“Woohoo!” Grimshaw beamed. “Would you look at that? No, don’t you cover nothing, girl. You just get it all swinging and bouncing for me to look at.”

“This is awful,” Jessie said quietly.

“Welcome to the Shame Institute,” the Governor said sardonically. “Look around the other screens, Porter.” She did. On screen after screen, women were standing naked in front of men, sitting on their laps, lying on beds with them. In two cases, the men appeared to be dazzlers; they were wearing the black t-shirt and trousers that was the uniform. In the others, the men weren’t handsome like the dazzlers. They were ordinary mortals like Ralph Grimshaw, extracting their pound of flesh for past wrongs. Jessie’s gaze skimmed quickly over the embarrassment of all of those women and focused on the few cells in which women were doing other things, in the dining room, in another big room – and then she looked away quickly from those, too. They appeared to be providing entertainment for the crowds outside.

“Not a bad dancer,” the Governor said. “I should have thought to send some music in for him.” Jessie looked back to the big screen. Jane Carter, her face still bright red, was indeed swinging everything she had for Grimshaw, moving gracefully but uncomfortably, her nude body swaying, bouncing and moving for his edification. Finally, he allowed her to stop. Unfortunately, it seemed that her ordeal was only just beginning.

“Now you come on over here and sit down on my lap so we can get all close and personal,” he said.

“I’m all sweaty.” Carter was clearly trying to think of something that would dissuade him.

“Hell, so am I,” he said. “Watching you shimmy around in your birthday suit has got me all hot and bothered. Come on over and set that bare butt right down here.” As she did it, his huge arms came round her immediately, trapping her even more.

“That’s it,” he said. “Now put those hands behind your neck. Oh baby, I do like how that pushes your titties up and out.” While Jessie watched, squirming in sympathy, the man ran one sweaty palm over the woman’s nipples, back and forth, while she trembled with the effort of staying where she was. “Now lean right back against the arm of the chair and let me get to know these lovelies,” he said. As she moved back, he lowered his head to her, and by the time she was braced against the arm of the chair, his tongue was licking sloppily at her, tickling and soaking her nipple with each lap.

“Oh yuck,” Jessie said, turning away. The Governor grinned at the expression on her face.

“Think of it as a porn movie, Porter,” he said. “Without the bad acting.”

“I’ve never seen a porn movie,” she responded.

“Well this can be a first for you,” he said, noting that down in his head as well.

Grimshaw licked all over his captive’s breasts, under them, in the crease where they sprang out from her chest, down under her arms, where they were currently plumped out by the position she was in, and then back up again, always returning to torment and tickle at her nipples.

“You should have let me do this back then,” he said, looking up at her with a nasty smile playing over his mouth. “I didn’t have half as much imagination back then.” He put his face back down again and began audibly sucking at her, drawing each hardened nipple well into his mouth and holding it there for a while, tugging on it wetly. The woman was having trouble breathing at this point, obviously concentrating every effort on keeping still, on getting through this. And then it got worse, as he spread her thighs with one hand and began to slide that hand up between them.

“No,” Carter protested automatically, reaching down to try to push his hand away. He brushed her defence away as if it were a fly.

“You got no choice, sugar,” he gloated. “You just shut up and let me feel you up, the way you should have let me all those years ago. Now open those legs up wide for me.” His fat fingers moved like slugs between her legs, prodding, poking, shifting and touching everything he wanted to. When he slid one of those fingers inside her and moved it around, she lifted her bottom up in protest and Jessie looked away.

“Set that fanny back down right now,” Grimshaw ordered. “And open wider still. A lot more than one finger’s going up there, sugar.”

“Please,” Jessie said. “Can I look away?”

“Alright,” the Governor gave in. “One of the dazzlers is watching anyway. We always maintain a watch to make sure that the prisoners aren’t hurt.” He flicked the sound off, too, and reduced the screen to its normal size.

…………………

Their loss of some of his audience made no difference to Ralph Grimshaw. It was the night of his life, and he enjoyed every minute of it, repaying the woman who’d dumped him and shamed him, the one he hadn’t been able to have. Well, he had her now. He had her every way he wanted and every way she didn’t want. He took his time, too, spending a good half hour just playing with her bare rump, while she lay, humiliated and uncomfortable, over his lap. He made her lie on her back on the bed and hold her knees up, while he inspected all of the folds and crevices between her legs.

And he took lots of photographs to record his triumph. Hours later, having more than made up for all the times she’d told him no while they were at high school, he squeezed her tender breasts together and roughly licked each nipple for about the three-hundredth time before sliding once more into her, his big, half-naked body all but squashing hers. And while she was lying there, trying to breath through all the weight and flesh pressing down on her, he punctuated his gasping thrusts with the words “dreams do come true, don’t they?” For Jane Carter, it seemed like they did – but in her case it was a nightmare.

…………………….

At about the same time as that thought was occurring to the unfortunate woman, Jessie was lying naked in the Governor’s big, soft bed, having eaten dinner and showered in a huge, luxurious bathroom. Her foot was propped up on a pillow and her head was resting on two more. She was confused by her current situation and she was worried. Was he planning to sleep with her? Surely he must be. Why would he have ordered her into his bed if he wasn’t? So why was he out there, still working, while she lay in his bed, worrying?

It occurred to her that all over the prison, women were suffering state-sanctioned rape. All over the prison, women were feeling this squirmy, panicked sensation, knowing that there was not only nowhere to run, but also hardly anyone who cared what was happening to her. Because as far as the citizens were concerned, every one of those women deserved the dehumanising shaming she was receiving.

………………………….

Long after Jessie had gone to sleep, Jake Miller sat in his home office and looked at the four images on the computer screen in front of him. Jane Carter, Philomena Righteous, Maria Petrina and Jessica Porter, all of them facing the camera, nude. Their images were cropped at the waist, but their bare breasts were completely visible, along with their blushing faces. Even the previously impassive Righteous had pink cheeks in her photograph. She had, he now knew, caused a ruckus when she’d finished her run through the Display Yard, and had slapped one of the dazzlers across the face when he pinched her backside. Ms Righteous was going to be regretting that temper tantrum for some time to come.

Shaking his head and smiling at the silliness of the woman, he looked back at the photos. It was the usual practice, on the night after prisoners were admitted, to load what had become known as “Titillators” – these shots, onto the Shame Institute website. Then, if anyone wanted to see the other photographs, the rest of the posed shots, along with video caps from the admission procedures and trips through the Display Yard, they could become a member for a small fee. If they became a Gold Member, they could see archived photographs of any of the previous inmates. It was another big money earner for the Shame Institute. And this, the release of the “Titillators” was usually a mere formality. But not this time. It was a pity, because Jessica Porter was by far the most attractive of the four women, not just in terms of her lovely face, but also because of her high, full breasts. Maria Petrina’s were bigger, but not as well shaped, Jane Carter’s were firm but not large, and Philomena Righteous’ were starting to sag a little.

Jake had given considerably more thought to the problem he was considering than he gave to most. He was a decisive man, one who wasted no time on trivialities. He leaned back in his chair, looking at the four images, his fingertips pressed together. Then he leaned forward, highlighted the image of Jessica Porter and deleted it. The other three could go out, but he was holding that one back for now. Having decided, he shut the screen down, stood up and stretched, then made his way to the bedroom. At fifty-eight, he was still a fit man, more than capable of staying up all night working if he had to. But he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed not having to sometimes. He opened the bedroom door and went in. He looked at the small, pretty face on the pillows and shook his head.

“What am I going to do with you, Jessica Porter?” he asked. Well, what he knew he wasn’t going to do was get into bed naked with her. That lovely little body was far too tempting, and he wasn’t a man who gave into his baser instincts too often these days. He walked to the dresser under the window, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out the maroon silk pyjamas his eldest son had given him as a joke one birthday. On the front pocket was embroidered the initials “SI”, in the famous Institute logo. On the back was written “Daddy Dazzler”. Smiling ruefully, Jake stripped and put them on before climbing into bed beside the sleeping woman.

……………………..

When Jessie woke the next day, she was disoriented for some time. That was unusual for her, because she usually woke alert and ready for action. But this was an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. Sunlight was streaming through two sets of windows, and she was naked. She sat up, wincing as her ankle woke up as well, and clutched the bedclothes to her, remembering where she was. This room belonged to the Governor, Jake Miller, and it reflected his tastes. The bedspread was a dark maroon and the walls were cream, with a glossy black trim top and bottom. The floor was polished wood, and there was a very expensive-looking rug in the middle of it. The door opened while she was still looking around.

“Ah, you’re awake,” the Governor said. He was dressed as he had been the day before, in dark trousers, a tailored white shirt and glossy black shoes. “How’s the ankle?” She moved it under the covers and winced.
”Sore,” she admitted.

“They often are in the mornings,” he said. “My sons always said their sports injuries ached more the next day.”
”You have sons?” she asked, feeling silly to be discussing something so ordinary while sitting naked in his bed. He nodded.

“Two of them,” he said. “Both grown now. See if you can walk on that foot, Porter. Stand up.” From the amused look in his eyes, she knew that he was well aware of how difficult she found it to push the covers back and stand up nude. So she set her jaw and did it without complaint. Damn him. She took one wary step.

“It’s holding me,” she said, her arms holding all of the bits she most wanted to cover.

“Good,” he nodded. “Go to the bathroom, then put your shortie on and come out for some breakfast. I want to show you some of the activities in the Institute, and they start early.”

She had worried that he meant to show her in person, and was relieved to find that he was referring only to the screens. That said, the viewing there was bad enough. As soon as they’d consumed the scrambled eggs and toast that had been brought to the door, the Governor neatly stacked the plates in the dishwasher and led her over to the living room chairs. He combined a number of screens to focus on one scene.

“This is the work detail,” he explained. “They go out every morning.”

There were two dazzlers and a long line of nude women standing inside the Display Yard tube, facing one side of it. Each woman stood in the display position, her elbows almost touching those of the woman beside her, her feet apart. On the other side of the glass wall was a crowd of onlookers, obviously here for just this reason. They were cheering and hooting and hollering as the women stood there, exposed and quivering with embarrassment. To Jessie, the screen seemed to be filled with nipples and pubic hair of different colours, sizes and shapes.

The Governor hit the controller for the sound. Jessie immediately wished he hadn’t.

“…those tits! Geez, Dana, if your nips were any longer, they’d be hitting the glass.”

“Oh yeah, take another deep breath, Cherie. Get those boobs bouncing again!”

“Still haven’t trimmed the fuzz, Maureen? You could hide an army in that bush.” Each comment caused laughter from the people in the crowd, and a tightening in the expressions of individual women.

“Quite often, the people in the audience at this stage know the women. They make a point of coming back day after day to heckle them. We post a list every afternoon of who will be on the work detail so they know when to come along,” the Governor said. “That man there, the one who’s crouching down? He works for the brunette he’s in front of. He’s very good at getting to her, too.” The man was thin, balding and wiry, with a big, knowing grin. He called out.

“Hey Julie. I’m going to get my camera out and take some more piccies of you for the website. I’ve got a great zoom lens, too.” The woman, a tall brunette with a set, fixed look on her face, edged her feet just slightly together.
”Get those feet apart!” called one of the dazzlers. “Now, Williams!” The woman shifted them back.

“Wider,” the dazzler ordered. Lips tight, she complied. The tormenter on the other side of the glass laughed and turned his head to get a better look at what she was showing him even more of now. He raised his camera to his face and snapped off a few shots. The woman waited until the dazzler moved away.

“You’re a stupid little man,” she hissed, unaware that her words were being picked up by the microphone, or, indeed, that there was another dazzler walking silently up behind her. “An impotent, ignorant little fool who can only make himself feel important by mocking his betters.”
“Betters?” said the dazzler right behind her. She started, then her face set into hard lines. “What makes you better, Williams? He’s a free man, a citizen. You, on the other hand, are a convicted, naked criminal, here to be shamed and displayed to anyone who wants to have a look at you and witness you being brought down a few pegs. What do you think, John? A couple of hours in the Display Case?”

“What a good idea,” the other dazzler, who looked vaguely familiar to Jessie, walked back down towards them. “And I really do think we should invite this gentleman to sample Williams’ delights tonight. Would that suit you, sir?”

“No!” the woman protested. The dazzler brought his hand down in a stinging slap on her bare bottom and she stopped talking.

“He didn’t ask you, Williams,” the first dazzler said. “Sir? Would you be available tonight?” The man stammered his agreement. Yes, he would most certainly be available.

“And for that little outburst, you’ll spend another hour in the Display Case,” the second dazzler said to the woman. “But we’ll wait until the crowds have really built up. You can do work detail first.”

“That onlooker obviously pushes buttons with her,” the Governor said. “He’s made her bring her hands down and try to cover herself twice, but that’s the first time she’s actually insulted him. In the past, the dazzlers have just made her assume a number of very explicit poses. And the man has been invited to take as many photographs as he liked, of course.” Jessie exhaled loudly. The Governor turned to look at her.

“The name of the game is shame, remember?” he said.

“And forced sex, it seems,” she said. “Given that he’s been invited into the Institute for the night. He shook his head.

“She’ll have a choice,” he said. “Fifty points. Of course, if she doesn’t go along with it, she’ll lose points, which means she’ll probably end up having to work out that extra month. And I can almost guarantee that he’ll feature in that month somewhere as well.” The man had recovered and was laughing now, gloating as the woman blushed and squirmed while his camera clicked again and again.

“What’s the Display Case?” Jessie asked. He pressed a button, called up a screen, and Jessie saw a large, clear box with some sort of mechanism inside it. He zoomed in on it.

“The woman is strapped naked into that,” he said. “There’s a clear harness that takes her weight without obscuring any of her body, and her arms and legs are held wide apart. Onlookers can move the levers outside and change her position in any way they like. Upside down, knees drawn up, bent over, there are even some shaking functions to get all of her body parts moving about. There are also some interesting fittings that go inside her vagina and rectum, and they can be stimulated by the onlookers as well. A guard makes sure she isn’t hurt, but it’s probably one of the more physical and uncomfortable punishments we offer at the Institute.”

“Where is that set up?” Jessie asked, trying not to focus on his words.

“In the main entrance,” the Governor said. “Where every person who comes in and goes out can see it. It isn’t used often, but it’s an extremely popular attraction when it’s occupied. And onlookers can have their photograph taken with the occupant, in any position they wish, for a small fee.” Jessie decided not to ask any more questions. She didn’t like the answers.

“Now they’ll count them,” the Governor said, drawing her attention make to the main screen. He smiled. “It’s not necessary, but it’s part of the show. Watch.” She watched, wishing she didn’t have to. One of the dazzlers strolled up to the end of the line of naked women and looked down it, to all of the bare breasts of varying sizes and heights, all of the patches of pubic hair, all of the exposed skin on display. Then he grinned and started walking down, lightly flicking each nipple with the fingertips of one hand as he went. The crowd counted with him, chuckling at every breast he left jiggling behind him, but when he reached the mid-teens, they started calling out the wrong numbers.

“They try to confuse him so he’ll start again,” the Governor said. “Sometimes he lets them do it, but they’re running a bit late this morning, so it’s unlikely that he will.” The dazzlers paused at one woman. Jessie could see that she had a prominent mole just beside one nipple.

“Hmm,” the dazzler said. “Two or three?” He bounced her breast up and down in his hand for a few seconds. Then, having added exponentially to her humiliation, he moved on. He reached the end, counting “thirty-nine and forty”. Twenty women. He looked down the line of quivering bodies again. “Turn around!” he called. Every woman turned, with some clashing of elbows, and assumed the position again, this time exposing their bare buttocks. With their legs spread wide, many of them were showing quite a lot more than that, too.

“And bend right over,” he said. There was a loud cheer from the crowd as the prisoners complied, breasts bobbing into view through the wide open legs, and a veritable smorgasbord of genitalia on display. The second dazzler began to walk down the line, lightly slapping each upturned set of buttocks, letting his hands move down, linger, fingers tickling as he counted. He reached the end.

“What do you know?” he said to his colleague, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “There are exactly half as many butts as there are tits. What a coincidence.” There was a burst of laughter at that.

“He’s going to work out just fine,” the Governor approved, and Jessie remembered where she’d seen that particular brute. He was the new dazzler the Governor had pointed out the day before.

“Straighten up!” the first dazzler called. “And turn around.” The women did it, faces flushed. “And get your buckets and start working!” With that, the naked women broke their positions, turned back to pick up buckets of water, and began cleaning the glass that separated them from their audience, several of whom stayed to ogle them.

“It’s their job to keep the surface of the Display tube and the Chute clean,” the Governor said. “I like the irony of it, that they have to work to keep that glass completely transparent, so that the crowds can see them as clearly as possible.”

“Who cleans the outside of it?” Jessie asked, as much to force words through her tight throat as anything.

“Commercial cleaners,” he said. “We have no shortage of applicants for the job either. They’re often there cleaning at the same time as the prisoners are on the inside cleaning. I’m always a bit concerned the commercial cleaners are going to get distracted and fall off. It hasn’t happened yet, though.” He minimised the screen and looked through the others.

“Most of the activities occur outside,” he explained. “And there are several covered areas in case it rains. But some of them occur indoors. Thanks to the wonders of technology, we can relay them to screens on the outside for the paying public. On any given day, we have upwards of three thousand people through here. Some of them come back again and again, particularly if they know one of the prisoners, and we make a point of trying to involve them whenever possible.” He zeroed in on one of the middle screens and enlarged it.

“This is one of the equipment rooms,” he said. “The dazzlers use it to set up some of the punishments, and I saw a prisoner going in there before. I could go to the camera in there, but she should be out any minute now. Well, how’s that for timing?” He congratulated himself as the door opened and a woman came out.

She was blonde and beautiful. Her legs, exposed by the shortie she wore, were long and golden, and her hair was that white-blonde colour, a mass of curls around a perfect face.

“Kristy Mansfield,” the Governor said, consulting his console. “She used to run a modelling school, and she’s an ex-model herself. That didn’t stop her from stuffing under-aged models full of drugs to keep them doped and malleable.” Even knowing that didn’t stem Jessie’s automatic sympathy for the woman, because she was locked in what looked like an old-fashioned yoke that enclosed her neck and held her hands up beside her shoulders. The grey shortie skimmed just long enough at the front, but as she walked down the hallway, it could be seen that the lower curves of her bottom were on show.

“How long does she have to stay in that?” Jessie asked, thinking of how sore the woman’s arms would become.
”Not more than a few hours,” the Governor said dismissively. He smiled as a man in black came down the hallway towards the woman. “Now it gets more interesting for her,” he said. The man – a dazzler with pale blonde hair and chiselled cheekbones, made the woman stop where she was. Then, slowly and with a smile on his lips, he drew her t-shirt up, right up, and hooked it over the yoke, front and back, leaving her naked from the neck down. The woman protested, and the dazzler laughed, patted her on her bared backside and walked past her and away.

“She has to stay like that?” Jessie asked, looking away as the woman struggled to free her hands from the yoke.

“No,” Jake replied. “She can try to free the t-shirt. Look, she’s trying now.” Thinking she was alone, the woman was shaking vigorously, rocking the yoke and herself. Her high breasts were thumping about wildly as she jumped and shook and wriggled. The back part of the t-shirt relinquished its hold on the yoke first, falling down to the small of her back, and with some more squirming and jumping that had her nipples spinning around madly, she managed to get the front of the shirt free too. A bit more wriggling, and she was as covered as she’d been before. Until she turned the corner in the corridor, into the viewing range of the next camera, and a second dazzler caught her and hooked the t-shirt up again, this time spending a couple of minutes tickling her nude, unprotected body while she futilely flailed about.

“They’ll send her into the common room, probably,” the Governor said. “It has lots of cameras that feed to the outside screens, so everyone can watch. The dazzlers will make sure she knows that, too. They’ll point out the feed so she can see that she’s providing entertainment.” Jessie said nothing. It was his Institute. Continually criticising the creation of the only person who seemed inclined to help her had to be both pointless and silly.

”Ah, one of our most popular spectator sports,” he said, indicating some screens to his right. “Have a look at this, Porter. With your body, it’s almost certain you’ll end up on this detail if you make it into the Institute.” Jessie kept her face impassive.

“This is the BB show,” he said. “Breasts and butts, or boobs and bums, to be crude. The general idea is that the three women there – see them?” Jessie nodded. Three nude women were standing in a huddle in one of the outside arenas, a crowd of people on the other side of the clear barricade watching them. To the right of the women were three wood-framed screens, each one with a thick glass pane running from shoulder height to knee height. There were buckets placed on stands at hip height to the left of each screen, and buckets on the ground.

“Answer me out loud, Porter,” he said, watching her reaction.
”Yes, sir,” she said quickly. “I see them.”
”Those women will have their hands behind their necks, and they’ll be allowed to either dip their breasts or their buttocks into the soapy water, and they each then have to wash the entire screen – both sides. The first one to finish gets to retire, and another contender is brought up to compete. The dazzler decides who wins, of course.” Another tall, Scandinavian looking blonde man was running this show.

“I see,” she said, feeling that she should reply.

“Only big breasted women are used for this detail,” he continued. “To provide as much entertainment as possible, obviously. It looks like they’re ready to go. Yes, Eric is getting them to display, and he’ll introduce each one of them to the crowd, to make sure they know their full names, where they live and what they’re being punished for.”

One at a time, the blushing women were brought forward, turned around slowly so their nude bodies were displayed fully to the crowd, identified clearly, and then sent to stand in front of a screen.

“Let’s see if I can get the other camera angle,” the Governor said, fiddling with numbers. “Because they’ll start with this side, I suspect. Yes, there it is.” He pressed some buttons and the image changed. All three women now stood framed, hands behind their necks, breasts almost pressed to the glass already. Eric raised his hand and dropped it, and all three women bent down immediately, dipping into the buckets of soapy water, then straightening back up and frantically rubbing their breasts against the glass. The Governor pressed another button and the sound came through, the squeaky rubbing of flesh against wet glass, the jeers and cheers and laughter from the crowd as breasts flattened and circled before their eyes. One of the women was jumping up and down in an effort to get to the higher parts of the glass, and she in particular was scoring lots of pointing fingers and raucous laughter.

“She was the mayor of a town,” Jake said. “The upper limit in age for our intake, and very full of her own importance. She arranged for the council to buy some property she owned, at ten times the market value.” The woman’s face was set and determined, red from the exertion as much as from the humiliation of being turned into a bouncing human sponge for the edification of the big audience. Like the other two, she continued to bob down and up, again and again, soapy water dripping off her breasts as she turned back to the glass.

“The dark-haired one was an accountant,” he continued. “The one who’s sitting in the lower bucket. She embezzled some funds. I’ll bet she’s regretting it now.” Bending over from the waist, the woman was rubbing her buttocks against the glass, legs apart, displaying a lot more than just her determination to win this degrading competition. She was the first to make it round to the other side, where, closer to the audience, she then had to endure their comments as she bent over in front of them to soak her breasts again.

The ultimate winner was the tallest of the three women, whose slightly droopy breasts swung around a lot as she splashed them against the glass.

“A church minister,” the Governor said. “Who fleeced her flock. Several of her congregation have showed up every day she’s been here. They’ve been seeing a lot of her.” Chests heaving, the two losers were led back to the side and towelled down. The winner was taken off in the other direction, some of the crowd going with her. As she left, another nude woman was brought out into the arena by a guard. Despite the fact that she was doing her best to cover herself with her arms, it was obvious that she was just as big-breasted as the other contestants.

“What happens to the winner now?” Jessie asked. He pointed to another screen.

“She’s taken to the shed,” he said. The shed was open-sided, so everyone could still see in. On the monitor, Jessie watched as the tall blonde dazzler the Governor had called Eric settled the woman into what looked like a cross between a chair and a bath. It was made of silver metal, and once the woman slid over the side into it, her legs were guided apart into separate channels. Eric strapped her ankles in with plastic belts, and strapped her arms over her head with more of the little belts. Then he turned away and adjusted some taps. Turning back, he had a little shower hose, which he directed at her body, washing her from neck to knees with what looked to be cold water, if the way she yelped and the hardening of her nipples was any indication.

“The chair allows him access to her backside, too,” the Governor pointed out. “We designed it. It supports her lower back and legs, so she can’t slide out of it, but it keeps her butt and all of the front of her bare.”

Hosed down, under the eyes of what had to be at least a hundred people, the women looked warily as Eric turned away and back again, this time smoothing something over her nipples.

“That removes the last traces of soap,” the Governor said, with a wry twist to his lips. “Unfortunately for her, it also leaves an itching sensation.” Eric rubbed the same cream between her widely splayed legs, making sure he opened up all of her folds as he did so. And then, with a wave of his fingers, he walked away, leaving her lying there, exposed and about to become very uncomfortable.

Feeling uncomfortable herself, Jessie looked away, back at the main screen, which showed the woman in the yoke, bent over in what she assumed was the common room, trying to unhook her t-shirt with the help of the edge of one of the low tables. This put her bottom up in the air, and one of the dazzlers was complicating the situation by tickling between her legs – a move the people who were watching on the screens outside, shown on the next monitor, were approving of. The woman managed to manoeuvre the shirt free and stood up, dancing away from his fingers, backing into the arms of another dazzler, who immediately tugged the t-shirt straight back up again. Red-faced, furious, frustrated and clearly dreadfully embarrassed at her nudity, the woman spun back to the table, where the tickling fingers awaited her again.

On the monitors on the right, the three women stood trembling, poised to dive for the buckets. On the screen above those, the winner of that competition was writhing and twisting, providing endless entertainment for her onlookers as she attempted to find relief from the tickling itch on her most intimate parts. And Jessie dropped her face into her hands and pressed her fingers against her eyes, trying to fight back tears.

“It’s not a holiday camp,” Jake said unnecessarily, standing up. “Come over this way now, Porter. This is what we call side-show alley.” More monitors. He waited while she limped over, away from the chairs, then dragged over a stool for her to sit on. It was high – no doubt designed for one of the tall dazzlers, and she had no hope of making the climb. Without ceremony or comment, he put his hands around the waist and boosted her up. He stood beside her. “Now, see here?” he asked, pointing at a monitor. “Those eight women are lined up behind a screen, so they can only be seen from the hips up. The row of eight men – drawn from the crowd by a lucky number competition, get to look at them for ten minutes. They can’t take photographs, although others in the crowd can, but they can look as closely as they want to. No touching.” The men in question just about had their noses on the nipples of the women who were standing, scarlet-faced and bare-breasted, shoulder to shoulder. On the screen in front of each of them was printed their full name, along with a photograph of them in their former lives, fully-dressed and in control.

”Once the ten minutes is up, a screen comes down, the women are shifted around, and they are put into a special screen where only their breasts are shown. The men then have to guess who owns each pair. The first man to guess correctly gets to choose which breasts he wants to play with, and he gets ten minutes to do so.” Jessie made a shocked noise.

“He’s not allowed to get rough,” the Governor assured her, as if that made all the difference. “He can fondle and play and lick and suck, that sort of thing, but no hard pinching or pain. Just shame. Then another woman is brought up, and the game begins again.” He fiddled with his console again. “We might come back to that one. What else have we got going? Oh, yes. A similar game, but it doesn’t run as long.” The image changed to one that had Jessie at first squinting to identify what she was looking at, then looking away, shocked.

“Same principle,” he said. “But, as you can see, the eight women are bending over, legs apart, and the men this time are trying to memorise their genitalia.” Each woman’s ankle was tied to the ankle of the woman beside her. In order for any of them to close their legs even a fraction, they had to pull the legs of their companions wider apart. Much tugging and fighting was occurring, to the amusement of the crowd. “Their pubic hair has been slicked up in front, and they’ve been shaved between the legs, so as to not make the task too easy,” he continued. “When the screens are put in place, the contestants will only be able to see the target area, no faces or breasts.” Both were currently on view, dangling and upside down, faces bright red.

“Among those women, we have two politicians…let’s see, an economist, a scientist, two executives, a school principal and a lawyer. What a good use of their talents.” He flicked the keyboard again, just in time to see the screens changed on the previous game. He changed the angle, and they saw what the contestants saw, eight pairs of framed bare breasts, quivering, vulnerable, and anonymous.

“The other one was just about ready to go too,” he muttered. “We can’t hold them in that position for long, because it strains their backs. Let’s see….yes. There we go.” Jessie looked away as the women were being framed up in that game as well. She wondered what the winner of that game got as his prize.

The Governor didn’t say anything, but he took pity on her, blanking those screens and searching through others. In one, a familiar-looking room was shown.

“Are others being admitted today?” Jessie asked, because that was surely the Examination Room on that screen, with the white-haired doctor in the white coat.

“No,” the Governor replied. “Looks like Frank is taking more photographs for his book.” There was a hint of a smile on his handsome face.
”His book?” Jessie asked. There was a nude woman standing in the room, hands holding her hair up on top of her head, facing the doctor who was, sure enough, holding a camera.

“He is apparently writing the comprehensive text on the female anatomy,” the Governor said. “But based on the number of photographs he’s taken over the last three years, I can’t imagine that there’s going to be room for any words at all.”
”The prisoners volunteer for this?” Jessie asked. The woman was up on her tip-toes now, holding the previous pose and looking distinctly uneasy.

“No,” the Governor said. “Frank chooses the subjects he wants. They all seem to have very similar body shapes, which seems a little incongruent for a book that purports to be for all women, but I’m not a doctor, what would I know?” She could definitely hear humour in his tone now. He looked at her. “But they score five points for every photographic session.” A telephone rang in his office and he stood up. “Here, you can listen in while I take that call,” he said, pressing the sound button. Manners almost had Jessie saying thanks, but she suppressed the instinct.

“…nipples sticking out more,” the doctor was saying. He put the camera down. “Hold the pose, hold the pose. I’ll do it.” He tickled the woman’s nipples for a few seconds, then bounced her breasts up and down for good measure. “There, that’ll hold them for a few more frames, Bouncy.” Based on her ample proportions, the woman would have been a fine candidate for the horrible BB Game Jessie had witnessed, and from the look on her face, would have preferred to be there, to be anywhere other than where she was, with the creepy doctor Frank.

“Now jump up and down,” he said. “Higher than that. Really get them going. Come on. Show me how you earned the nickname I gave you, Bouncy. Good. That’s it. Keep going.” Jessie looked away. The other live screens didn’t provide any relief, so she stared pointedly at the floor for a while.

“Good, now we’ll move onto the more intimate shots,” the doctor’s voice came though, sounding as if he were promising a treat of some sort. Well, it clearly was a treat for him, based on the tone of his voice. Jessie looked back as the woman climbed up onto the examination table.

“Now lift those tootsies up here,” the doctor said, fitting each of her feet into the stirrups. “Nice and high, open wide, let us all see what’s inside.” He chuckled to himself, then hesitated for a few seconds. “Let’s see if I can keep the rhyme going. I’m recording for the arts, all of Bouncy’s private parts. Ha! It doesn’t scan properly, but I like that.” He added: “Ta da!” and opened the stirrups up wider. The look on the woman’s face echoed what Jessie was feeling.

“Now don’t cover up those titties,” the doctor remonstrated. “Just because I’m not taking piccies of them any more doesn’t mean I don’t want them out there and on show. Look at them quivering about there. Just like nice big mounds of blancmange, aren’t they? With cherries on top. Put those arms back down beside you, or I’ll have to restrain them up above your head. And who knows WHAT might happen then?” he smiled archly, shaking his head from side to side. Then he picked up the camera again, and zeroed in between the woman’s legs. The zoom lens must have been all but touching her, he was so close.

“Delightful,” he was approving. “Now I want you to bear down hard, just push down hard, so everything opens up. No secrets now. I want to be able to photograph every tiny little bit. My, my, my, I think that’s going to make a lovely centrefold. And I’ll make sure I credit you as the model, Bouncy. Oh yes. Everyone will know who this is.” He snapped lots more photographs. Jessie was very pleased she couldn’t see the view he was focusing on.

“I want to get some signs of arousal here,” the doctor said, almost splitting his face with a smile as he said it. “So hands well out of the way, and I’ll just do this. Just a little rubbadubdub on your girly parts. Oh, does that tickle? Well, that’s a pity, because we’re going to have to keep doing it until you’re all nice and wet for the photo. Rubby rubby rubby.” He was saying the stupid words in a sing-song cadence. “Round and round and round. Is that uncomfortable, Bouncy?”

“Yes,” the woman said, the muscles in her stomach and thighs visibly straining.
”Just a bit more,” he said. “My, my, there’s such a lot of you on show, isn’t there?” He touched her for a while longer, then took more photographs.

He’d let her down out of the stirrups and was moving on to shots of “Bouncy’s butt,” as he referred to it as, when the Governor came back.

“He’s insane,” Jessie said.
”Frank?” the Governor replied. “Yes, he probably is a bit. Bright man, though, and one of the best shamers I have on staff. What’s he doing now?”
”Taking photographs of her backside,” Jessie said, although it should have been obvious. He had the woman standing, facing away from him, her hands holding her hair up again, thrusting her bare bottom out at him. “For some unfathomable reason.”
”Frank likes shapely backsides,” the Governor said. “And big breasts. If you end up in the Institute, I’m sure he’ll pick you as one of his models.” Jessie’s breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t sure what she liked least, the thought of ending up posing nude for that horrible doctor, or the fact that the Governor had just reminded her that he was well qualified to comment on her body.

The doctor had the woman bending over now, right over, touching her toes.

“Ooooh, tighten up those buttocks, you naughty girl!” he was teasing. “I can see your labia!” Of course, there was nothing the woman could do about that in the position he had her in.

“He’s mad,” Jessie said again. The Governor looked at her and half-smiled.

“There’s a strange irony to it,” he said. “That woman used to be in charge of a chain of photo stores. She successfully fenced stolen cameras through it for more than twelve months before the police caught up with her.”

“Does he know that?” she asked, looking back at the ex-photo specialist, now standing with her legs wide apart, leaning forward slightly, while the doctor crouched down at knee height and took a numbers of photographs of her backside and assorted other exposed areas.

“Frank doesn’t miss much,” the Governor said, a wry twist to his mouth.

For most of the morning, he kept Jessie there, an unwilling audience to what was occurring just inside the gates of the Institute. But just before lunch, he delivered a surprise.

“I’m going to be leaving you for a day or so,” he said. “And I’m going to be leaving you here, while I do some digging about your case.”
”Why?” she asked.

“Would you prefer I didn’t?” he countered.
”No,” she responded fast. “No. And thank you.”
”Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “If I find that you deserve to be in there, you’ll be there as soon as your ankle is up to it, and you’ll be starring in all of those games and activities we’ve been watching this morning, Porter.” His inquiries had already given him some information that led him to believe that this was not going to happen, but he was too cautious a man to raise her hopes when he wasn’t sure.

“I’m not prepared to leave you alone, however,” he said. “Who knows what mischief you might get up to? So I’ve arranged for someone to keep an eye on you and to give you some small tastes of what life in the Institute will be like if you end up there.” Somehow, that was another thing Jessie didn’t feel like saying thank you to.

She ate lunch with him, not knowing whether she should be feeling excited or worried. And she was still in the same state of mind when he said goodbye and left, shutting the front door behind him. She was alone for less than ten minutes, and she spent that time stacking the dishwasher, limping backwards and forwards from the table to the kitchen. She made one other trip, picking up the console he’d left on the coffee table in the living room and pressing the top red on/off button. It was a relief to see those screens dull to grey. When the knock sounded on the door, she was startled. She’d have thought whoever it was would have been given a key. But perhaps he was just being polite? She mocked herself for the thought. Polite? Here? She hobbled over to the door and opened it. And froze.

Patrick, Captain of the Guard, or “King Dazzler” as he was known to his adoring public, was leaning comfortably against the doorjamb.