Story – The Weekenders, Part 2

As the door to the ‘INMATE INTAKE’ room swung open, Marie was confronted with the overpowering smell of disinfectant. The room was like a clinic, the walls, floor, all surfaces white and wipe-clean. Like the reception area, there were cameras in all corners, facing all parts of the room. There were two members of staff, one man and one woman, both wearing face masks. The woman was just removing a pair of disposable latex gloves, pulling the left glove up from the wrist, wrapping it in the right-hand glove, which she swiftly turned inside out, then pressed the pedal on the trashcan and tossed the glove bundle inside. She then grabbed two new gloves, and quickly put them on.

The male guard, arms crossed, told Marie to walk into the middle of the cell and place her feet inside a square marked out on the floor and place her hands on her head. He then stepped over and scanned the barcode on her wristband, bringing up her details on a computer screen on a side wall. He then began to curtly instruct her. “OK ma’am, without removing your hands from your head, remove your shoes.” Using her other foot, she prized each heel off. The male guard then walked over, picked up the shoes, closely inspected them, and then placed them into a plastic zip-bag, which he sealed and placed into a box. “Now take your right hand, and unbutton your top starting from the top button and working your way to the bottom.”

Uneasily, she began to lower her right arm, but before her arm was below her shoulder, she uttered “excuse me, but should you be doing this, you know, as a guy?”. The response was quick and uncompromising. “Ma’am, I am not permitted to search you. I am permitted to be in the room, and to issue instructions. Unless you follow my instructions immediately and completely, you will have your clothes removed, and your disobedience will be put on file. Do I make myself clear.” Knowing that she had little choice, she meekly replied “Yes”, and continued lowering her right arm. She unbuttoned her shirt, eventually leaving it hanging open.

“Now remove your right arm from the shirt and then place it back on your head, before lowering your left arm and removing that from the shirt.” So she let her right arm drop, and then shook it out of the shirt, exposing her bra and bare flesh to the other occupants of the room. Placing her right hand back on the top of her head, she began to blush. Knowing that she was blushing embarrassed her, which made her even redder. It was a relief to be able to move her left arm, which was beginning to get stiff, even though it meant exposing the rest of her upper body as her top fell to the floor. Once again, the male guard walked over, picked up the top, looked at it, felt and patted it, before placing in a plastic bag which he left on a table.

“OK, now take off your bra, and toss it on the floor.” Conflicted between the feeling of not wanting to take her bra off and the fear of having the guards do it for her, Marie moved her hands to the clasp at her back more quickly than she had wanted to, but slow enough for disapproval to register on the faces of the guards. This panicked her, which just made her fumble, and the whole procedure was made even more awkward. Eventually, the clasp released, and she was able to remove the bra, and throw it on the ground as instructed. She instinctively covered her now bare breasts with her arms, but was immediately told, “hands back on your head” by the abrupt male guard. Forced to finally release and reveal her breasts by lifting her arms, her breasts dropped a little, and bobbed. She felt odd for thinking that she was glad her arms were on top of her head, making her breasts seem bigger and more pert, as she was still mortified at having them so starkly exposed to two complete strangers, one of them a man.

The next order broke through her thoughts; she had not noticed the female guard pat her bra and put it into the zip bag and place it in the box. “Now take those panties off. Quicker this time.” Remembering how awkward taking her bra off had been, she probably would have gone for a quick removal anyway. Easily slipping her thumbs under the waistband, she slid them down her legs, dropped them on the floor beside her, and returned to an upright position, hands on head. She was disconcerted when the guards looked at each other after visually examining her pubic area. She had a neat, well-trimmed pussy, and had delivered two children with no problems. Soon, the guards’ problem became clear. “Ma’am, you are not permitted any pubic hair, please take off your socks, and sit on this chair.”

She took off her socks, and when her feet touched the shiny floor, she danced in shock at how cold it was on the soles of her feet. She walked over to the chair, warily, but not wanting to display any signs of resistance. “I, I thought there were no cavity searches in the intake here.” She had read the information carefully, and it had definitely said that, but having been invited to sit on what looked like – no, it actually was – a gynecologist’s examination chair, she was beginning to doubt this. “That’s right, no cavity searches unless we have good reason, there are too many prisoners to process to do that. We need to remove your pubic hair, but also get a good visual on your whole pubic area.” Partly relieved, though not much, she climbed into the chair, and instinctively placed her feet in the stirrups.

She could see her pussy lips open as her legs spread out, and had to look at the ceiling, rather than at the staring guards, who were trying to see any suspicious movement or hint of a concealed object. Her eyes were brought back down by the sound of the female guard picking up an aerosol and a razor. The guard shook the aerosol, and Marie realized what was about to happen. She normally would have picked up on something like this sooner, but this was no normal day. “It’s OK, I can do that, I do it all the time, sorry, I thought trimmed would be enough.”

The male guard looked unimpressed, the female guard a little more sympathetic. But she was still professional and stern. “I know you could do it ma’am, but you are now officially a prisoner, and according to regulations that means that we can’t give you a razor.” Marie knew that she could have argued with that statement, but she also knew how bureaucracy and rules worked, and that arguing would be pointless. “I probably shouldn’t annoy the woman that’s just about to shave my pussy”, she reasoned to herself. So instead she just whispered “OK”, and lay back, not wanting to see the act.

She felt that familiar coldness, as the foam was sprayed onto what had been her most private area. Then she felt the scraping of the razor, taking not just hairs with it, but a layer of skin as well. Obviously no expense had been spared on the disposable razors, and the harshness of the shave combined with the unexpectedness of the location of the next scrape. It didn’t take long, there wasn’t a big bush to clear, and the guard breezily declared “Done!” once it was over. Marie leaned up and over, and saw that her pussy now looked as red as it felt sore. “Don’t get up” was the next instruction from the female guard, though in fact she hadn’t planned to, having quickly got in the habit of not doing anything before she was explicitly told to: “Huh, I guess I make a pretty good prisoner”, she thought, a reflection that was both rueful and a little joke to herself.

The guards had decided that Marie was in a good position for a visual inspection, and the female guard now moved round to the side of the examination chair, and asked Marie to lean back, and open her mouth wide. Using a small flashlight, the guard looked deep inside her mouth and throat, and then moved her head to one side, checked in and behind her ear, then moved it to the other side and checked around that ear. She then got Marie to sit up, and ran her gloved fingers through her hair, causing Marie to yelp when she suddenly and unexpectedly tugged it quickly and hard, to test that the flowing locks were indeed natural.

Pushing Marie in her sternum so that she lay back on the chair again, the guard cupped her hand under each of Marie’s breasts in turn, flicking the breast with a finger on her other hand. She then lifted her breasts up as high as she could, then let go, to observe how they fell. Sensing Marie’s discomfort here, she explained “this is just to check you’re not hiding anything in there,” which Marie thought ridiculous and unnecessary: “they won’t do a cavity search but they’ll check if I hidden anything IN my breasts. So stupid.”

The guard knew that the worst was now over, but Marie thought that this was still to come, as the guard worked downwards. The flashlight was passed to the male guard, and the female guard used the thumb and forefinger of both hands to grip Marie’s labia, gently parting them and allowing the light from the flashlight to flood in. Both guards were able to take a hard look which seemed long to Marie, but actually took just 10 seconds. The part-time prisoner was now told to get out of the chair, which she did, wincing as the change in position and rush of blood renewed the soreness in her shaved pubic area.

Pointed wordlessly towards the square marked on the floor, Marie returned to the position where she had disrobed. She was told to face the door she had originally entered in, and to squat and part her butt cheeks. She had sweated a little while on the examination chair, so as she squatted, the air entering her crack chilled her butt-hole, causing it to pucker. The guards noticed this as she parted her cheeks with her hands, and told her to relax, which just made her tighten up even more. Eventually, after breathing deeply and focusing on a spot on the wall, she unpuckered.

She was aware that this was taking much much longer than she hoped, partly because of her own shame and stress. The female guard shone the flashlight up her butt, observing closely the effects of Marie coughing on command. That hurdle crossed, Marie was ordered to turn around, still squatting, part her labia, and cough again. Once more, the flashlight penetrated her most private regions, and once more it revealed nothing.

Now the male guard spoke. “OK, step into the cubicle over there”, pointing at a perspex door in the corner of the room. She did as she was told, and after a little difficulty with the door, she entered the cubicle, and was unpleasantly surprised by the metal grille she had to stand on in her bare feet. As soon as the door was shut, soapy water cascaded from a nozzle directly above her, and she could just about hear “one minute” as she instinctively closed her eyes, too late to avoid the stinging sensation of the soap.

She did her best to try to clean all parts of her that had perspired since her arrival, but the time she was given was just not enough. As soon as the water was switched off, a fan blew hot air downwards, removing most of the drips on her skin. As soon as the fan stopped, she saw the female guard beckoning her out of the cubicle, so she pushed open the door. After standing on that grille, even the cold hard floor of the rest of the room felt pleasant to her! Handed a rough paper towel by the male guard, she did her best to dry any remaining wet patches that escaped the harsh wind of the fan.

Clearly being rushed by the guards, she was handed what appeared to be a larger paper towel, but which was actually a paper gown. “Put it on, then stand by that wall” was the instruction. Still damp in places, she nevertheless handed back the paper towel, and opened out the gown, trying to work which end was which, and how she would get it on. “This is pretty thin,” she commented aloud, the disapproving looks of the guards making her keep the thought “I’m going to be freezing in this” to herself.

Marie eventually found the head hole, and placed the lower end of the gown over her head, working it down her body until her head emerged from the upper hole, and she could then see and straighten the rest of the gown. Immediately handed two more little paper items, she placed them over her feet as instructed. She noticed that she could still see the skin on her feet through them, and feel the cold of the floor in her soles, but had learned to keep her thoughts to herself.

Before she even knew what had happened, the male guard, who must have moved behind her as she was putting on her feet covers, had pulled back her arms and placed her wrists in cuffs. As quickly as he had done this, the female guard grabbed Marie’s left arm and brusquely marched her to the door, which she opened with her other arm, and pushed Marie out. Marie involuntarily shouted “Hey!” at this insult, but the door swung closed behind her, and guards in the intake room had started preparing for the next inmate. Seemingly out of nowhere, a guard attached a free cuff to Marie’s left ankle, and in the darkness the journey from intake to her cell was beginning.

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