All about Eve

Stephanie stood in an isolated corner of the large holding cell

and discreetly took the small phone out of her pocket.� It had

been Eve's idea for her to go "undercover" as a prisoner in the

holding area so that she could talk to the women waiting to be

processed, but her assistant was supposed to have sprung her over

an hour an ago.

Stephanie impatiently listened to the phone ring: eight...nine...!�

Why didn't Eve pick up?

"Hello?" Eve's voice finally said.

"Where the hell are you?" Stephanie whispered angrily, trying to

hide her conversation from the other inmates.� "You and the warden

were supposed to release me!� Some of these inmates are really

scary!"

"Calm down, Stephanie," Eve said.� "There's been a change of

plans.� How are things going in the tank?"��

"Wonderful," Stephanie said, sarcastically.� "I'm locked in a cell

with three murderers, four junkies, and a woman who **** another

woman with a bottle.� It's just lovely.� Now get me the hell out

of here!"

"Did you get the background information you wanted?" Eve asked,

archly.

"Yes, so get me OUT of here," Stephanie repeated. "They've

already taken half of the women away for processing.� I don't

have much time."

"No, you don't," Eve observed, casually.� "The warden showed me

the videotapes of the women being processed this afternoon.� Strip

search, shower, delousing, and uniform fitting can be completed in

minutes.� The guards are very efficient, although the guys really

seem to enjoy their work, especially when it's a pretty little

thing like you on the other end of the glove.� They can process

100 women in an hour!"

It's difficult to shout and whisper at the same time, but somehow

Stephanie managed.� "Eve, you have to get me out of here NOW!"����

She heard the sound of male laughter.� "No, Steve," Eve giggled.�

"I've had too much champagne already.� My head is positively

SPINNING!� It's so warm in here...would you mind if I took off my

jacket?"

"Steve?" Stephanie said.� "Who the hell is STEVE?� Where are you?"�

"Steve's the warden, silly," Eve replied.� "He suggested we go

back to his place at the beach so I could get some background

information for my interview with him tomorrow."

"I'm doing the interview, Eve, not you," Stephanie snapped.� "The

camera crew is going to arrive at noon tomorrow, and I'll

interview the warden at his office."

"Like I said, there's been a change of plans," Eve replied.� "I

suggested to Steve that we let you continue undercover for the

next few days, and I'll do all of the on-camera anchor work.� You

did promise that, if I worked hard, I'd get my big break someday."

"I meant in a few years," Stephanie snarled.� "You're in the

college internship program, and you've been working for me for

only two weeks!"

"But you know I'm a fast learner," Eve replied, merrily.� "And

you said yourself that TV news is always looking for fresh young

faces."

Stephanie ground her teeth.� At the age of 29, the beautiful

blonde newscaster hardly considered herself over the hill.� But

her shapely 21-year-old assistant, Eve, could give any woman a

run for her money.

Stephanie had resented the young woman's good looks and brazen

ambition, and she'd quickly relegated the flirtatious little

upstart to menial office tasks and personal errands.� But, after

two weeks of picking up Stephanie's laundry, walking Stephanie's

dog, and washing Stephanie's Corvette, Eve had complained to her

uncle, and Stephanie was **** to take Eve along for her

background interview at the woman's prison.

"I swear, if you don't get me out of here, you're fired."

"Temper, temper, Stephanie," Eve patronized.� "You never would

have hired me in the first place if my uncle didn't own the

station.� And, by the time you get out of the clink, the broadcast

will already be on the air.� But don't worry; although I'll be

doing the voice-over and the interviews, you'll still get plenty

of camera time.� All the strip searches and showers and stuff are

on videotape, although my uncle says we'll have to use one of those

blue dots to hide your naughty bits when you spread your legs.� But

he said that I can show your bare fanny on the air, as long as I

read one of those parental advisory notices before I do it.� So I

asked Steve to sign you up for a disciplinary session."

"Disciplinary session?" Stephanie gasped.

"Yeah, you know, with the razor strap.� They do it out in the

courtyard.� They'll tie you down over the horse, and then warm

your fanny with this big old black razor strap that they use to

discipline all the girls.� Mostly they do it over the girls'

panties, but I convinced Steve that, in your case, an 'underpants

downer' would be best.� It IS sweeps month, you know," Eve giggled.

"You can't be serious, Eve!� I'm a grown woman!� You can't give me

a bare bottom spanking...ON TELEVISION!� You can't humiliate me

that way."

"There's no shame in it, Stephanie," Eve said, sympathetically.�

"What you have to remember is that even the toughest cons break

down, and wiggle their little fannies, and promise to be good

little girls, once they start laying on the stripes.� I'll explain

in my voice-over how the razor strap can make even a well-educated

and sophisticated professional woman like you wiggle her backside

like a naughty teenager sent to the woodshed."

"But the best part is that the warden says he'll strap you down

so you'll be straddling the horse," Eve said breathlessly.� "That

means, when you lift your fanny up, the camera will be able to

see up right between your legs!� Of course, my uncle says we'll

apologize for not using the blue dot and claim that we didn't

notice.� But it should really drive up the ratings."

"I don't care about the ratings!� I just want out of here."

"But just think of it, Stephanie.� A week of newscasts with you

getting spanked and searched!� A week-long series featuring you

in skimpy shorts and a tight t-shirt, sweating in the chain gang

and scrubbing out toilets.� And I'll be in my crisp blue blazer

providing play-by-play.� We'll be the perfect team, Stephanie.�

With my brains and your cute little bod, it'll be ratings gold.�

Must-see TV!� With the exposure I get, I'm sure to get a job

offer from one of the networks."

"But what about MY exposure!" Stephanie wailed.� "After I get

paraded around naked on TV, I'll be the laughing stock of the

profession.� I'll never work again."

"Don't be silly," Eve patronized.� "Those men's magazines are

ALWAYS looking for famous anchors to do pictorials, and don't

forget about the adult video industry.� Naturally, I'll get all

the money from the home video version, since I'm the talent," she

explained, pedantically.� "But, since the home video won't have

any of those silly blue dots, it'll be a HUGE seller, and you'll

already have your first adult video hit."

Stephanie was horrified, but knew she couldn't show it.� "Eve,

put the warden on the phone, right now!" she commanded.

"Sorry.� The poor dear is trying to find another bottle of

champagne," Eve said.� "But he did have a message for you.� He

said the other prisoners can be really tough on a pretty young

thing like you, and you shouldn't be ashamed of what you have to

do to survive.� Cute little blondes often fall prey to bull dyke

prisoners or horny guards, and, if you have to become someone's

frisky bitch to survive, no one will hold it against you."��

"He really said THAT?" Stephanie gasped.

"Well, his exact words were, 'sucking a row of ding dongs or

munching some rugs is a small price to pay for getting out of

this snake pit alive.'� Little Stevie can be so melodramatic

sometimes!" she giggled.

"Tell me, are you a natural blonde, Stephanie?� I think you are,

but Steve wasn't sure.� Anyway, Steve says blonde beaver is

worth more cigarettes in prison, and you'll be okay if you

become someone's bitch."

Stephanie's hand instinctively flew to cover her crotch.� The

idea of her soft downy fleece being used to set her market price

was too humiliating to bear.

She heard some garbled voices on the other end of line, followed

by more giggling.� "Oh, Stevie, you've spilled champagne all over

my blouse!" Eve tittered.� "Now I'm just going to have to take it

off!� I hope that wasn't your plan all along, you naughty boy,"

she scolded.��

Then a hand grabbed Stephanie and roughly spun her around.� She

looked up at Bertha, an enormous 300-pound black female con, who

stood over six inches taller than the tiny blonde newscaster.��

She winced as Bertha's hand closed around her neck.� "You been

hiding this phone from me, white bread?" Bertha snarled.�

"Bertha don't like it when her white bitches hold out on her.�

You'll pay for that tonight, sweet cheeks."

The black giant easily wrested the phone out of Stephanie's hand,

but she could still hear Eve's singsong voice on the other end of

the line.� "I have to go now, Stephanie...Stevie is getting

frisky.� But it sounds like you have some new playmates to keep

you company.� Be good.� And remember, I'll be by to watch the

tape of your first night in prison tomorrow.� Ta-Ta!"

The black inmate snapped the phone shut and slipped it into her

pocket while effortlessly lifting the gasping Stephanie up onto

her toes.� "What else are you hiding from Bertha, whitey?"

Bertha's chubby fingers ran down from Stephanie's shoulder and

gave her right breast a playful squeeze.� "I like my titties all

soft and white.� You got any nice creamy white milk for Bertha,

bitch?" the convict snickered.� "Let me hear you say, 'Moo'!"

Stephanie said nothing.� Bertha's grip tightened, and Stephanie

gasped.� "I said, say 'moo' for me, you white cow.� Moo for me,

so I know it's time to squeeze your cute little udders."

"Moo!" Stephanie gasped, chocking back tears of humiliation.�

"Moo!"

"Louder, you little heifer!" Bertha chuckled. "Moo for Bertha,

and ask for your milking."

"MOO!" Stephanie cried out.� "MOO!� MOO!"

"That's a good little dairy cow," Bertha sneered.� "You moo real

nice, white girl.� When I sucks on your little white dairies, I's

sure you gonna give out all sorts of creamy white milk."��

Bertha's hand slipped off Stephanie's breast and playfully cupped

her left bottom cheek.� "Maybe I should brand you so that

everyone knows you belong to me, white cow," Bertha said.� "When

you got my mark ever'body'll know I's the one owns your cute

little ass."

"Okay, ladies...into the next room for pat and poke," the guard's

voice barked.��

Stephanie gasped as Bertha released her windpipe.� She had never

imagined that she would be grateful to hear a large Hispanic man

announce her strip search, but the moment had arrived.

FLASH!� FLASH!� FLASH!�

She felt dizzy as the guards took her mug shots and her prints.�

As Eve had predicted, the process was quick, efficient, and

routine.��

But there was nothing routine about the procedure in the next

room.� "Take your clothes off -- all of them -- and place them

in the carton in front of you.� Watch, jewelry, earrings,

undies...everything," the matron barked.� "Right down to the

skin."

Stephanie looked incredulously at the matron who had just ordered

her to strip naked.� Didn't she notice the four male officers

standing behind her?

"In front of THEM?" Stephanie squeaked.

"Don't be shy, Goldilocks," the guard cackled.� "The boys are

going to be watching you strip, shower, and pee for the rest of

your sentence.� You ain't going to have NO secrets from the boys!"

Stephanie blushed as she felt the grinning men behind her

undressing her with their eyes.� Her stylish clothes, trim

figure, blonde movie star good looks, and innocent eyes clearly

made her the featured dish on tonight's menu.

Stephanie looked to her left.� Her nemesis, Bertha, was already

down to her baggy boxers.� Stephanie winced and took off her

jacket.��

Shoes...blouse...skirt...slip...pantyhose...bra...and finally

panties.�

The other women were naked long before Stephanie, but no one

seemed to mind.� Even the butch female guard was amused at the

sight of the terrified beauty slowly stripping out of her lacy

unmentionables under the bright fluorescent lights and the

watchful eyes of the horny male guards...and Bertha.

She put her fingers in the waistband of her panties and looked up

at the ceiling-mounted cameras.� She clenched her teeth as she

imagined Eve smugly watching the video of her surrendering her

final, wispy garment to the control of the state.

She tried to ignore the laughter and wolf whistles as she stepped

out of her lacy underpants and tossed them into the crate in front

of her.� Eve had been right.� Natural blondes were popular in

prison.

She tried not to think about the prying eye of the camera as she

obediently turned, bent over, and put her palms flat on the cement

floor.� She had assumed the matron would conduct the search, but

it was the young Hispanic guard who ordered her to spread her legs.

She winced as his greasy, gloved fingers probed first her exposed

sex and then her anus.� Through her widely spread legs, she could

see the man was kneeling to her left, so that the camera recorded

every moment of the shameful probing.� She ground her teeth as she

imagined her gleeful rival giggling in the editing bay as she

watched the 19-year old man leisurely examine her like a 100-peso

puta.��

The blue dot would be used in the television version, but Stephanie

knew that the editing would be less than precise.� And the home

video version would leave nothing to the imagination.

After the humiliating cavity search, the icy water of the large

gang shower was almost a relief.� She closed her eyes and tried

not to think about the ubiquitous cameras, letting the chilly

water ran over her naked body.

"Lemme wash your back, sweet cheeks."�

Stephanie stiffened as she felt Bertha's beefy fingers.� She tried

to jerk away, but Bertha effortlessly pulled her back and began

lathering the shivering newscaster's body.���

"Stop your squirming, white girl," Bertha sneered.� "Remember you

still owe Bertha a taste of your sweet white milk tonight.� And

I'll 'spect you to use that sassy little mouth and sweet tongue on

me, too!"

Stephanie cringed, but Bertha's grip tightened.� "If you fights me,

I jus' might have to mark those sweet little buns of yours so that

ever'body knows you my property, white girl."� She gave Stephanie's

bottom cheek a sharp warning pinch.� "But, if you plays nice, I can

play nice...."

Stephanie looked over at the guards, but they just smiled back at

her.� She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, as Bertha slowly

worked her thick fingers between the blushing blonde's legs.

Stephanie blushed even more deeply when a grinning male guard

deloused her, paying extra attention to hosing down her crotch.�

The pungent aroma made her eyes water, and the burning, itching

spray made her cunt twitch.�

Bertha was dressed in blue jeans, prison issue underwear and a

t-shirt, but Stephanie and the other "new fish" were given a

short, sleeveless orange smock and flip-flops to wear before

being marched off to their cells.

����� ����� ******************************

Stephanie lay on her bunk and looked unhappily up at the TV cameras

on the ceiling.� Bertha planted a gentle kiss behind Stephanie's

ear and ran her fat fingers through the humiliated newscaster's

long blonde hair.� Bertha would give it to her sweetly...if she

did as she was told.

Even as she squirmed under the black woman's touch, Stephanie

imagined her understudy in the warden's beach house, sleeping her

way to an Emmy award.� The warden's luxurious bed was doubtlessly

more comfortable than the slab that Stephanie had now.

She blushed as she imagined Eve watching the tape of her first

lesbian encounter.� The image of the proud blonde newscaster

kneeling between the black woman's legs was humiliating, to be

sure, but she knew that Eve was right.� It would make GREAT

television.