The stirring odor of smelling salts snapped Vivian back to the conscious world. She was still naked and in the same small cell with its glaring light. She was in a state of shock from the ordeal she had been through, and gasped as two strong tall Mexican men lifted her from the cold concrete floor and dressed her in a white hospital jacket and placed shower thongs on her feet.
Have mercy on me, was her only thought as she felt their hands on her flesh. "Please don't fuck me any more. My body hurts so much."
She was amazed when the two men picked her up and put her on a stretcher and began carrying her out of the cell and down the long straight halls of the Procuraduria.
She realized that she was being moved out of the cell and to a new location. Her focus began to return and she was able to determine that they were leaving the building by the number of gates and guards that they passed.
Oh, my God! Vivian thought. They must be taking me to the women's prison. She remembered the way the men during both of her rapes had talked about the lesbians and thieves that would be her new peers. Her whole life had changed drastically, quicker than she had ever dreamed possible.
It wasn't until they had passed out of the military-like Procuraduria into the gray-pink of the morning sunrise that Vivian fully regained her capacity to think, see, and feel. She knew her body hurt and that she was being placed in an ambulance-type vehicle. She began to tremble as the gravity of her problems struck her with full force.
The two Mexicans who were carrying Vivian climbed into the back of the police van with her and signaled the driver; then the door was locked and they were seated, one on each side of her.
I've signed a confession that I smuggled cocaine from Bogota, was her first thought as the engine of the truck started to purr and the two Mexicans chatted idly about, money and women. The stunning truth of her position made her tremble.
Is my father really the reason why I'm here? she asked herself, remembering the words of her American tormentor. Was Maria Coin really innocent and not part of an international smuggling ring like my father claimed? Vivian found herself entertaining the idea that her father and his greed for power were at the root of her dire situation.
The police van lurched forward and so did everyone in the back. "Watch your driving!" yelled one of the Mexicans as he bumped his head on the roof.
For the first time since she had started through customs the day before, Vivian had something to chuckle about. Her laugh drew stern looks from her two guards, but she didn't care. She had been raped and beaten and pissed on and was sure there was nothing the two men could do to her that would compare with the ordeal she had just been through.
The back of the van became quiet again and Vivian lapsed into thinking about her lover, Max. She was more comfortable than she had been since her flight as she lay in the stretcher; this made her memories even more vivid and warm.
Max was always tender and kind, treating her like a woman, giving her every consideration, always trying hard to please her when they made love.
The cold realization of the orgasms she had experienced during her rapes broke into her battered thoughts. She had never equaled the intensity of those climaxes with her lover. Her body had never yielded the way it had under the brutal caresses of the four men in the bleak cell.
Am I a masochist or nymphomaniac? she asked herself, wondering about her ability to derive pleasure from such abusive sources.
The van continued through the light morning traffic of Juarez, the sunrise signaling the prelude to another day of work and play for those who were free.
I wonder how long they're going to keep me in prison? she asked herself, remembering that one of her tormentors had said that she would be sentenced nine years. She shuddered. Nine years seemed like life, a lifetime of confinement for something she hadn't done.
Father will help me, she tried to reassure herself as she looked at her menacing guards. The nagging doubts about her father's morality made it harder than ever to believe that he would do anything at all. In fact, Vivian had trouble dismissing the notion that he might even disown her if it would salvage his integrity and power. After all, it wasn't good publicity for a United States Senator to have his only daughter busted in Mexico for drug smuggling.
The van made a hard turn off the paved road and bumped along over a very rough strip, jostling the occupants of the back around quite a bit.
"I hate this road to the women's prison," one of the guards complained as he held onto the roof, bracing himself from any further jolts.
The guard's comment about the women's prison told Vivian that her fears were well founded.
What kind of life will I lead at a women's prison? she asked herself. All of her education and upbringing did little to ease the tension she was feeling. What mercy could she hope for at the hands of criminals and sex fiends? Would she be able to stand the strain and anguish of a daily life behind bars? Would the women in the prison be kind to her because she was so young, or would they take advantage of her lack of experience? All of these questions left their own unanswered anxieties.
The van braked to a quick screeching stop, and the guards instantly flung the doors open and jumped out. It took them only a few seconds to unload the girl on the stretcher and move her past a gate made of hurricane fence and topped with barbed wire. They quickly spirited her along a short path and into a large menacing brick building with barred windows.
What an ugly gray fortress, she thought as she entered her new home. It was hard to miss the towers that surrounded the complex. The machine guns in the top of the towers left in plain view of the prisoners served as an obvious psychological deterrent to those that lived inside the cold gray walls.
Vivian was amazed at the dirty run-down conditions that existed on the inside. From where she lay on her stretcher, she could see that the floors were brick and the smell told her that cleaning was not the order of the day. The dark and musty odor frightened the girl more than the memory of her rapes at the hands of the Federal Judicial Police.
The guards at the gate and the door had let the stretcher and its escort pass without more than an idle hello. Vivian was amazed at the number of female guards she saw as they passed through another series of barred gates and hallways, past doors that obviously served as office entrances and into the main receiving point for prisoners, where she was deposited, stretcher and all, in a holding cell. The sound of the metal gate slamming behind her and the turning of the key in the lock was a more than adequate reminder that her position hadn't changed. She was still a prisoner, and subject to the whims of her captors.
For the first time since she had been placed on the stretcher, Vivian sat up and looked carefully about her. Her body ached, in particular her asshole where the electric jolt of the cattle prod had been applied when she passed out. She bravely ignored the pain and looked about the cell in which she was confined. Its zoo-like quality made her want to cry.
Take it easy, she whispered to herself. Now is no time to show weakness.
The cell was about nine feet long and five feet wide, with three solid brick walls and thick iron bars and a hinged, barred gate as the front. The only light came through the bars from the electric bulb that hung over a desk directly in front of the cell.
Vivian watched her two male guards as they joked and talked with the heavy-set female behind the desk. She felt totally helpless as she watched the large woman sign some papers presented by one of the guards. She knew she was being committed to the Mexican prison system, where life meant a little to some, and nothing to most.
Vivian watched with a certain amount of relief as the two Mexican guards departed from her view. They were the first men since she had been arrested that hadn't fucked her or made her commit some other kind of depraved act. At least for now she didn't have to worry about spewing cocks and the sticky cum adhering to her hair and face.
Someone will help me, Vivian thought as she watched the matron rise and walk around the large wooden counter and cross towards her cell.
The matron was a large robust woman with long dark hair which she kept neatly combed and tied in a ponytail. She was the type of woman who filled her uniform well and reminded Vivian a little of her own mother. If anyone would help her, it would be her; it had to be this kind-looking woman.
The matron took a large ring of keys and unlocked the steel door on Vivian's cell, sliding it open with ease. She crossed the threshold and loomed over the girl; her eyes roved the entire length of her charge.
"Get off that stretcher, you smuggling little American slut!" she bellowed. "Else I'll make you wish you were back in the Procuraduria!"
Vivian jumped at the command and was quickly on her feet, the white hospital jacket flopping open, momentarily revealing her firm tits and blonde pussy hair.
"It looks like the girls in C block are going to get some fresh meat," the matron leered as she watched Vivian hurriedly try to cover up.
Vivian shuddered at the thought of having to do whatever some lesbian told her to. She knew nothing of what women did to each other except what she had heard in whispered stories at the university.
"Follow me," the matron commanded as she led the way from the cell.
Vivian did as she was told, following the woman across the hard natural brick floor, past the large wooden desk and back to the section of the building where the offices were. She watched as her guard unlocked the door and turned on a harsh overhead light, revealing a stockroom.
"Take off your hospital jacket," the matron commanded as she led the girl across the room. "I want to search you and then give you some clothing and get you put in a cell so I don't have to be bothered with your stinking ass any more."
"Search me?" Vivian questioned. "I'm already naked underneath." She clutched the jacket tightly to her body. She was afraid that the matron wanted to rape her.
"Didn't you hear me?" The matron's voice showed the anger she felt at not being obeyed instantly. "When I tell you to do something, you do it!" She hissed through her teeth as she moved closer to the girl, clenching her fist.
Vivian responded instantly, dropping the jacket from her body. She hurt already, and she knew that she would only lose if she antagonized her guard. She wanted to hide her charms, her creamy young boobs, from the woman, sensing the pleasure she took in ravishing Vivian's body with her eyes.
"That's better," the matron said. "You're going to be in Mexican prisons a long time, so you might as well make up your mind that you have to do as you're told."
Vivian shuddered. A long time could be years and years. What kind of life could she live in a prison? Would Max wait for her? Would her father help her? So far, being the daughter of a United States Senator had been only a liability.
The matron stood directly in front of the girl and quickly ran her fingers through the girl's hair, lingering in its long, blonde tresses, almost in a caress. Next, she ran her fingers along the girl's skin, up her arm to her armpits.
"Turn around, kick off your thongs, and pick up your feet one at a time," she commanded as she stepped slightly away from the girl.
Vivian did as she was told, convinced that the matron was just doing her job. So far, she had found the search degrading, but nothing like the humiliation she had been subjected to at the hands of the men.
"Now bend over and spread the cheeks of your ass," the matron ordered when the girl was finished. Of all the jobs this woman did at the prison, this was her favorite.
Vivian wanted desperately to resist this insanity. She was innocent of any crime, and a woman of standing in her country; why did she have to be searched in such a perverse manner?
"Don't question my authority," the matron spat as she pushed the girl with a heavy-handedness that warned of the true strength she possessed.
Vivian's response was to instantly do as she was commanded. She had experienced enough violence in the course of the last day to know that she wanted to avoid it at all possible costs. Her body wasn't built for the endurance of pain; she was sleek and delicate. Her long fingers grasped the cheeks of her own ass and spread them to the view of another woman.
It was all the matron could do to keep from gasping as the girl exposed the full beauty of her sore pussy and asshole. It was obvious from the swelling and dripping from her crotch, that she had been well fucked recently, but this did little to impede the natural beauty of her cuntlips and the way the skin flowed so smoothly from her twat to form her perfect ass. The matron was looking forward to dipping her fingers as deeply as she could into the girl's soft wet hole, and probing about until her own curiosity was satisfied as to whether or not the girl was worth putting the make on.
What's going to happen to me now? Vivian thought to herself as she felt the hands of the matron touch the top of her ass and slowly trickle across the skin, inching downward across her asshole and lingering on the tight, sensitive area between it and her pussy. Somehow, even this woman's touch made her skin tingle.
The softness of the girl's skin excited the matron. The girl was young and beautiful, everything she had always wished for herself, but had never been able to do anything about. The excitement turned to anger as she thought of this girl being able to get whatever she wanted just because she was so lovely, when for all of her own life she had been forced to work for everything. She increased the pressure of her fingers as she moved closer to the girl's pussy, lingering on her lips, giving them a sharp pinch before she savagely shoved two of her fingers into the hot hole.
"Ouch!" Vivian screamed as she leaned forward in an instinctive response, trying to avoid the fingers that were stimulating her. Why am I turned on by such repulsive sex acts? she asked herself in despair as the finger finally pushed into the mouth of her cunt and began to probe deeply.
The matron bent over, down behind the girl, and watched as her fingers moved in and out of the dripping pussy. The vibrant pinkness of the inner skin, combined with the sticky warmth, added to her brewing fury.
Vivian was shocked at the way she had to fight her hips to keep them from revolving as the matron's finger probed deeper and spread the lips of her pussy.
"There's nothing in there except a lot of cum!" the matron hissed as she removed her fingers from the dripping hole. She wanted to hurt the American girl. The men from the Procuraduria had told her she was the daughter of a United States Senator who had framed an innocent Mexican woman for a crime she hadn't committed. This girl was the symbol of everything she had never been able to have, and her jealousy was rising quickly to the surface in the form of vengeful infliction of pain. Without warning she rammed her fingers into the girl's extremely tender asshole.
"Oh, please stop!" Vivian begged as two of the woman's probing fingers pushed as deeply as they could into her ass. The tender, hurting muscle gave way to the brutal assault, reminding her of the penetrating cock that had made her climax as it reamed away before it shot a load of sperm deep into her bowels.
The matron cruelly thrust a third finger into the girl's finger-filled asshole, turned on by her total dominance over the blonde.
Vivian fought the urge to shove back against the piercing fingers. It was embarrassing enough to have to submit to such a degrading search, let alone have the woman know she was becoming aroused by the depraved act.
"There's nothing in there but more cum," the matron sighed as she withdrew her fingers from the girl's ass. She was sure that the prisoner was hurt and humiliated. She wanted to make the girl turn around and eat her pussy until she came, but knew that there wasn't enough time at the moment. In a short while she had to get the girl admitted and get back to the main desk for the changing of the guard.
Vivian sighed with relief as she stood up: she was happy that she had been able to hide her sexual response from the matron. Still, she was alarmed at the way her physical desires were able to make her feel things she didn't really want to feel.
"All right, you little bitch," the matron said as she moved over to the bins and pulled down a set of prison clothing for the girl, "you are now in the custody of the women's section of the Carcel Preventiva. Put these clothes on and do as you are told." She finished by throwing the clothing at the girl.
Vivian hurriedly picked up the clothing from the floor where it had landed, and dressed. The worn jeans and coarse shirt were ill-fitting. Both were too big, but at least they covered her body. The memory of the fine clothing in her closets at home and in the school at Bogota shot into her mind. There were many things she would treasure now that she had once spumed and worn only once at most.
The matron watched as the girl finished putting on her thongs. Even though the clothing she had given Vivian was too big, she could still see the girl's raw beauty and charm. There was nothing she could do to the girl that would ever change that.
Vivian followed the matron as she led her out of the room down the corridor and past the main desk where some other female guards were gathering. She felt the eyes of every woman they passed upon her in her rag-tag outfit. Still, she had little time to think or look around her as the matron continued to lead the way through a part of the prison that housed the other women inmates. On each side of the long hall were longer and wider corridors, each covered with a cold steel gate. They stopped in front of one that had a large O painted on the concrete wall. She watched as the guard took her large ring of brass keys from her belt and unlocked the heavy door, sliding it back with ease. She followed the woman and stood in front of a cell while it was unlocked. She entered without being told and listened to the lonely sound of being locked into place. She was in her new home.
The matron departed without a word.
Vivian looked about the small cell with its two bunks on the wall. It was dingy and depressing. The top bunk was made, so Vivian climbed into the lower one and allowed herself to fall off into the restful sleep of exhaustion.