Chloe in Prison Ch. 15

I woke myself up screaming. I had been dreaming of a barn: sheep were lined up outside a metal pen for shearing. One was grasped by two figures and held immobile. Dawes plied the clippers, relentlessly separating the hapless sheep from its fleece. Lambs to the slaughter, said a voice. Now for the little black sheep, said Dawes. I realised she was staring at me. As I stared back her face changed: fangs and hair appeared: I was staring at a wolf. The wolf grinned. I screamed so loud that I must have woken up Rose if not half the prison. But Rose was still asleep: I had been screaming silently.

I told Rose my dream after shaving inspection.

"I had nightmares when I first came here," she said. "A lot of prisoners do."

"It was to do with Prana having her head shaved," I said. "Wasn't that just so evil Rose?"

"It was brutal," said Rose. "But at least it isn't painful. I was talking to Julie Parker yesterday: she's still in a lot of pain."

"Did she tell you what happened?" I asked.

"Yes," said Rose. "It was as Fran said - minus some exaggeration. It seems there were about twelve male prisoners, not fifty; and they had her one at a time, not two or three together. Poor girl was terrified she'd get pregnant, but Dawes gave her a pill. She's still bruised and sore though. It'll be a long time before she tries to escape again."

"Lambs to the slaughter," I said. "That's what I said to Prana about the two new girls. Do you know why they're here?"

"No," said Rose.

"Prana told me they're mules. They tried to smuggle some drugs back from South America."

"They're here for a long time then," said Rose. "They looked like they could do with some support, especially the younger one. You should try to talk to her at Exercise, she's about your age."

"I will," I said.

We settled down to our routines: a bit of exercise for me, and a lot of exercise for Rose's right hand. But I could not shake off the dream. I knew of course that it related to Prana's head-shave - I'd thought of little else the previous evening. But there was more to it than that, for it also chimed with an idea I'd had: an idea which had frightened me at the time, and now terrified me. Yet in that strange way of things, the more it terrified me the more I felt compelled to go through with it: and by dinner time I had made up my mind.

"Shaving time," said Rose, after we'd drained the last dregs from our mugs of tea.

"I'll do you first," I said.

Rose took her beige flannel, dabbed water between her legs, soaped herself, and lay on her bed. I took the razor and set to work, drawing it over her mound. The growth of stubble was so negligible it was scarcely worth the trouble.

"Careful," said Rose, as I pulled awkwardly on her labia.

"Sorry," I said.

"Concentrate," said Rose: "you've been distracted all day: what's the matter?"

"Nothing," I said.

I finished Rose off. She wiped away the soap and minute hairs, then dried herself.

"Come on then," she said.

"If you don't mind," I said, "I'd rather leave it?"

"Leave it?" asked Rose. "Why? You can't be too tired, you've hardly done a thing all day."

"I'd just rather leave it," I said.

"There might not be time in the morning," said Rose.

"We'll see," I said.

"Best do it now," said Rose. "Just lie back and I'll do everything."

"No Rose," I said. "I'm going to leave it."

"But why?" asked Rose again. "You can't take any chances, not these days."

"Rose," I said: "I'm not going to shave: not now, not in the morning."

"What?" said Rose. "Are you crazy? Do you want to end up like Prana? Oh no Chloe. No. Please tell me I'm not hearing this."

Rose had swung her legs off the bed and was sitting facing me. My resolve flickered briefly.

"You should have seen her Rose: she was absolutely distraught. I've never seen her so low before."

"And how on earth is this going to help her?"

'She's on her own, Rose. You said it yourself: when they shaved your head it wasn't so bad when you found everyone else was the same. Prana said something like that yesterday. Well, from tomorrow she won't be on her own."

"Chloe this is insane! Do you realise what they'll do to you? They'll shave you and poke you about and humiliate you. That lovely hair - you can't do this Chloe."

"I've made up my mind," I said quietly.

"You are acting like a fool Chloe: you can't take on somebody else's punishment. Are you going ask to get strapped because Cradock was? Or put on the Wooden Pony because it happened to Parker? Well?"

"They're not my special friends," I said.

"Chloe: you are not going to do this. I won't let you. Now just stop this nonsense and lie down and open your legs."

"No Rose: I've made up my mind."

"And so have I Chloe: I'm not going to let you."

"You can't stop me Rose," I said stubbornly.

"I'm warning you Chloe: I've never thrown my weight about in this cell before, but I am going to shave you tonight whether I do it with your consent or without it."

"Don't you dare threaten me," I shouted. "Leave me alone: it's none of your business."

"Is that your last word?"

"Yes," I said. And I turned to the wall to indicate I had nothing further to say.

"Right," said Rose. "I'm sorry about this, but you'll thank me for it one day."

I heard the sound of the slops bucket being dragged to the bottom of the bed. Then I heard running water, half-turned my head and saw Rose run my flannel under the tap and put it, along with the soap and my razor, on the bucket lid. My pulse was racing. Resolutely I stared at the wall.

"This is your last chance," said Rose.

I said nothing. Suddenly I found myself on my back with Rose astride me facing my feet.

"Get off me," I yelled. Instead of getting off Rose lowered her weight onto my chest, pinned my shoulders down with her legs, and lowered her bare bottom over my face, until my cries were muffled. I struggled and flailed my legs until I felt my knees being forced apart and my legs bent up. I fought with all my strength, screaming and kicking out; but Rose was stronger: after a breathless struggle my legs were forced open, and my upper body and arms were immobile.

"Right," said Rose. Using one arm and one shoulder, she managed to hold me down in that position whilst her free hand reached for the shaving equipment. I felt a splash of cold water as the flannel was clamped over my pussy; then the soap was rubbed on roughly; finally, breathing heavily, Rose began to ply the razor.

"Let me go!" I yelled. "How dare you!" But my protests were muffled by Rose's bottom. I kicked out, and managed to get one leg free, but it was quickly recaptured. Then Rose continued: there was no gentleness in her movements: with me struggling and wriggling she was drawing the razor over me anyhow, forcefully and almost randomly, determined to remove every last trace of stubble from my pussy. And in a last desperate bid to escape I sank my teeth into her bottom.

The minute I had done so I regretted it. Rose screamed: her bottom rose into the air for a second, then sank back onto my face almost suffocating me.

"Right you little madam," she shouted: "you've asked for this." I struggled again: then felt a stinging smack on my bottom. It was my turn to scream, though my scream was muffled. A second smack followed the first, then another and another. I could scarcely believe what was happening. Again and again Roe raised her arm and brought it down: my bottom was stinging, the accumulation of smacks was hurting badly, my pride was hurt, I was sore and angry and humiliated.

At last Rose stopped. By now I was wailing, and close to tears. I hardly registered the flannel between my legs, or the sound of Rose dragging the bucket back into place. When Rose finally clambered off me I turned to the wall.

"Let that be a lesson to you," Rose said grimly.

I didn't answer. I just stared at the wall, smouldering with resentment and humiliation.