The Jailhouse Blues Ch. 03

Very soon though, I would have enough on my own plate -- I would be too fully concerned and too fully occupied in coping with the ordeals of my own predicament, to spare a concerned or sympathetic thought for what was happening to Ross.

With their lower legs stretching out under their dining table, the worn-smooth soles of prison officers Melanie and Natalie's Greystone Prison issue pale-blue, thin-rubber soled flip flops were just mere inches from my face ... And now they, too, were starting up -- their active, flexing feet now also causing their flexible flip flops to repeatedly slap slap slap away against the bottoms of their bare heels. So close to my face as this, the noises were ultra irritating.

But the acute vexation of the incessant slapping noises that prison officers Melanie and Natalie were making, was actually relegated to the status of minor irritation when compared with the offensive smells they emitted in doing so: the actions of their flexing feet, right in front of my face, causing their flapping flip flops to fan wave after wave of their stinky foot scents right up my nostrils.

Peering down at me under Table 6, prison officer Melanie said, "Prisoner Lightwood ... Officer Natalie and me are now going to sit down to a very delicious four-course lunch, as professionally prepared and cheerfully served to us by Greystone Prison's fine chefs and cheerful serving staff.

"And while we dine, in tandem you will dine on your own, prisoners' four-course lunch, as professionally prepared and cheerfully served to you by officer Natalie and me.

"First-course -- your appetiser: To whet your appetite, officer Natalie and me will let you look at our legs -- from your Initial Assessment report, that we filed on you yesterday, we already know just how much you like that -- and all the while of course you will have lots of close-up views of the soles of our dirty, sweaty feet.

"Second course: With your mouth firmly closed -- lips sealed up, all nice and tight -- you will sniff the soles of our stinky feet. Especially, you will inhale the scents from under and in between our toes. When we do not prompt you; probably because we are at that moment too engrossed in enjoying the flavours and aromas of our delicious lunch, you will not fail to continue to do this of your own accord. And don't forget to keep your mouth sealed!

"Third course -- your main course: From the bottoms of our heels, to the pads of our toes, you will lick clean the soles of our dirty, sweaty feet. And as you do so -- and taking utmost care, prisoner Lightwood -- you will gently scrape free with your teeth, any such bits of loose, flakey dead skin, as is most prevalently to be found on the bottoms and the outer edges of our heels, and on the balls of our feet. You will lick, tooth scrape, suck up and swallow, all of the dead skin and the half-day build-up of workaday sweat and grime.

"Fourth course -- to finish: You will lick clean the foam-rubber uppers of our dirty, grimy, sweat-stained flip flops -- toe-posts included.

"Those are your four courses, prisoner Lightwood."

"Yes, that's right, prisoner Lightwood," said prison officer Natalie, also peering down maliciously at me under Table 6. "And so now, while officer Melanie and me enjoy our first-course appetiser minestrone soup with Romano cheese croutons from today's four-course prison officers' lunch menu -- Italian-themed, today -- we will serve you your own first-course appetiser: The sight of our gorgeous legs, garnished with lots of extreme close-up views of the soles of our prison officers' feet ... Enjoy!"

As soon as prison officer Natalie had wished me bon appetit, prison officers Melanie and Natalie's faces disappeared from view ...

Stretching their lower legs forward and crossing their ankles, right in front of my face they started slapping their pale-blue, flexible thin-rubber soled flip flops against the bottoms of their bare heels.

So up close as this, the slap slap slap slapping sounds of their thin-rubber soled flip flops flapping relentlessly in my face was mega maddening. And so the wave after wave of foul, foot-fumey odours they wafted up my nostrils with mock casualness were all the more galling.

Crossing and recrossing their ankles, the only brief let ups to this grievous annoyance was when prison officers Melanie and Natalie scrunched or wiggled their toes, arched their feet, or otherwise flexed and contorted them in deliberately dangling and angling their flip flops this way, that way, and every which way to show me the soles of their dirty, sweaty feet from all sorts of angles.

Especially grubby and grimy, were the balls of their feet, the bottoms of their heels, and the pads of their toes, all of which they displayed to me at extreme close-up range, and at ever varying angles as they ceaselessly manipulated their highly flexible thin-rubber soled flip flops.

And so it was, that, listening to the accompanying sounds of prison officers Melanie and Natalie's soup spoons chinking against their soup bowls, and their (exaggerated for my benefit!) soup-slurping, and oohing and aahing over the satisfying tastiness of their first-course minestrone soup appetiser, I made my intimate acquaintance with their feet.

And, I had no choice, but to endure, right in front of my face, the highly aggravating sights, sounds and smells of their thin-rubber soled flip flops' incessant slap slap slap, under-the-table flip flop flapping.

These greatly annoying and grievously unpleasant optical, audial, and olfactory oppressions seemed to go on for much longer than they actually did: for just as long as it took prison officers Melanie and Natalie to consume their first-course appetiser minestrone soup with Romano cheese croutons.

Peering down under the dining table at me, prison officer Melanie smacked her lips tauntingly. "Mmmm! That minestrone soup with Romano cheese croutons was really tasty! Officer Natalie and me really enjoyed our first-course appetiser. Did you, prisoner Lightwood? How was your first-course appetiser? Was it nice? Hmm?"

"Ye-yes, Miss Melanie," I said respectfully. "It was ... very nice. Thank you."

"Good! I'm so glad you enjoyed it. It's not every prisoner, who enjoys up-close views of our dirty bare feet!"

"That's right!" agreed prison officer Natalie. "And I'm glad your appetite's been whetted, prisoner Lightwood -- because you've still got three more delicious courses to come. Lots more, for you to enjoy!"

"Thank you, Miss Natalie," I said respectfully. "I'm ... grateful."

"Um, I'm just wondering ... Do the slapping sounds of our flip flops bother you at all, prisoner Lightwood?" inquired prison officer Melanie with mock solicitude. "It's just that, well ... (Slap slap slap slap slap) ... I can't help noticing, that (Slap slap slap slap) you seem rather put out by it." (Slap slap slap slap slap ...).

"Er ... n-no, Miss Melanie," I replied respectfully. "Not at all. I ... hadn't even noticed."

"Oh, good!" said prison officer Natalie. (Slap slap slap ...) "That puts my mind at rest too, prisoner Lightwood. (Slap slap slap ...) I'm so glad you don't mind! (Slap slap slap slap slap ...) I mean, I'd hate to think we were bothering you!" (Slap slap slap slap ...).

"Ready for your second course now, prisoner Lightwood?" prison officer Melanie inquired sweetly. "Well, it's coming right up: With your mouth firmly closed -- lips sealed up, all nice and tight -- sniffing up the fragrant perfumes from the soles of my and officer Natalie's feet. Especially from under and in between our toes, where our intoxicating scents are all the more concentrated ... Enjoy!"

As soon as prison officer Melanie had wished me an enjoyable second course, prison officers Melanie and Natalie's faces disappeared from view ...

I watched their feet slip from their thin-rubber soled flip flops ... and then the warm and moist soles and toes of their dirty, stinky bare feet were suddenly all over me; pressing and probing my perfectly positioned under-the-table face adventurously and possessively and controllingly.

After their initial burst of frenzied foot foraying, I then found the ball of prison officer Melanie's left foot planted against my right cheek, and correspondingly the ball of prison officer Natalie's right foot planted against my left cheek ... And thus they held my face facing front, as their other foot accidentally but carelessly slapped, side-swiped and kicked my face, as they playfully but determinedly fended off the other's combative foot in their efforts to claim the coveted toes-over-the-nostrils position.

Prison officers Melanie and Natalie's foot scents were awful, just awful. Very different, but equally terrible.

I couldn't decide which of them was worse; couldn't make up my mind which was the most offensive as they both forced me to sniff up their in-between-the-toes foot stink: Was it the pungent, strong-cheesiness of prison officer Melanie's feet? Or was it the vinegary, sharp tanginess of prison officer Natalie's feet? I didn't know. But one thing I did know: being forced to sniff up their powerful foot scents simultaneously, was much worse than twice as terrible.

With my mouth firmly closed ("lips sealed up, all nice and tight"), breathing in through my mouth wasn't an option. Whether separately or simultaneously, I was obliged to inhale whiff, after dreadful whiff of prison officers Melanie and Natalie's cheesy and vinegary foot odours.

There was no escape, from their egregious olfactory assaults. No option, but to engage them. And to endure them.

And so it was, that, to the accompanying sounds of prison officers Melanie and Natalie's knives and forks chinking against their dinner plates as they enjoyed their second-course meatballs Milanese with tagliatelle, the highly aggravating sounds of their girlish giggling reached my ears.

And, I had no choice, as they tormented me with their foul foot odours, but to endure the added goading insults of their giggly mocking laughter as they playfully but determinedly competed: pushing and shoving, parrying and deflecting, and prying and levering each other's duelling foot -- in their good-natured but combative and attritional under-the-table battle for toes-over-the-nostrils supremacy. This incredibly annoying and grievously unpleasant olfactory torment seemed to go on for much longer than it actually did: for just as long as it took prison officers Melanie and Natalie to consume their second-course meatballs Milanese with tagliatelle.

Peering down under the dining table at me, licking her lips in great satisfaction, prison officer Natalie said, "Mmmm! The meatballs Milanese with tagliatelle was really delicious! Officer Melanie and me really enjoyed our second course. Did you, prisoner Lightwood? How was your second course? Was it nice? Hmm?"

"Y-yes, thank you, Miss Natalie," I said respectfully. "I ... enjoyed it."

"Good!" exclaimed prison officer Natalie. "I'm ever so glad you did. It's not every prisoner, who appreciates the aromas of our stinky feet!"

"That's for sure!" agreed prison officer Melanie. "We'd love to let you have a second helping. Being as you enjoyed it so much, and all. But we need to move right on to the next course -- we don't have all day!"

"An-another time, then, Miss Melanie," I said respectfully.

"Oh, there are going to be plenty of other times, prisoner Lightwood," prison officer Melanie assured me. "You can bank on it!"

"Well ... now for our third course," said prison officer Natalie pleasantly. "It's going to be Neapolitan ice-cream and strawberries, for officer Melanie and me. Ready for your third course now, prisoner Lightwood? Hmm ...? Well, it's coming right up: Licking, sucking up and swallowing all of the half-day accumulation of workaday dirt, sweat and grime from the soles of my and officer Melanie's hard-working feet. Paying particular and close attention, to the balls of our feet, the bottoms of our heels, and in between our toes. And -- very carefully! -- removing with your teeth, any such bits and pieces of loose flakey dead skin you may encounter, as is prevalently to be found on the balls of our feet, and on the bottoms and the outer edges of our heels ... Enjoy!"

As soon as prison officer Natalie had wished me a delightful third course, prison officers Melanie and Natalie's faces disappeared from view ...

Prison officer Melanie then planted the ball of her warm and moist foot on my forehead and pushed, tilting my head back slightly, thereby facilitating prison officer Natalie's waiting foot with the optimal angle of entry into my mouth.

In contrast with the playfully competitive but attritional nature that had characterised the second course's shenanigan-like under-the-table proceedings, prison officers Melanie and Natalie's third course interplay was comprised instead of close cooperation and mutual assistance.

As it had to be ... even the most obedient and compliant of prisoners had their limitations. And I was no different: I could only lick, suck on, and tooth scrape one of prison officers' Melanie and Natalie's dirty sweaty feet at a time.

Prison officer Natalie went first ...

Prison officer Natalie didn't hesitate. Wasting no time at all, she promptly inserted all five toes of one foot straight into my waiting mouth. She didn't verbally address me, but with the sole of her other foot she none too gently slapped the side of my face in an imperious and unmistakable instruction: Begin foot-cleaning!

To help keep my face in forward-facing position, prison officer Natalie rested her free foot against my neck, firmly pressing the ball of her foot against my Adam's apple.

While prison officer Natalie took first turn of my under-the-table foot-cleaning services, prison officer Melanie used the top of my conveniently positioned head as her footrest.

First, I felt the heavy, jarring uncushioned thud of the back of one of prison officer Melanie's heels carelessly setting down on top of my head, followed by the substantial increase in weight and pressure as she then brought her other foot on board, ankles crossed.

At first, bearing the weight of prison officer Melanie's resting legs, and enduring the hard pressure of the heels of her resting feet, right on top of my head, was an unpleasantly irksome and ignominious imposition, for sure.

But it soon became very much worse an ordeal than that.

Much worse, than unpleasant. Much worse, than irksome. Much worse, than an ignominious imposition.

To begin with, it was at worst a considerable nuisance ... albeit, a grossly abusive and profoundly humiliating one.

But the stresses and strains of supporting the recumbent weight and pressure of prison officer Melanie's legs and feet, right on top of my head, quickly and drastically escalated.

It soon became so acutely uncomfortable, so distressingly burdensome, so insupportable an affliction that it was bordering on intolerable.

But then, to cap it all, came that extremely irritating slap slap slap slapping sound ... prison officer Melanie had put her flip flops back on!

And so, as prison officer Melanie tucked into her third-course Neapolitan ice-cream and strawberries, I was forced not only to bear, right on top of my head, the increasingly unsustainable burden of her relaxing legs and feet,ankles crossed, but I was also made to listen to and endure those mega maddening sounds, right up close, as she caused her thin-rubber soled flip flops to repeatedly slap slap slap slap against the bottoms of her bare heels.

But back to prison officer Natalie ...

Starting with her big-toe, and working along to her little toe, I sucked on and licked in between each of prison officer Natalie's invasive and maddeningly adventuresome toes.

At first, prison officer Natalie's dirty, sweaty digits didn't seem to taste of anything much at all; nothing like as bad as I had been fretfully anticipating. I was greatly surprised -- and greatly relieved. I told myself this wasn't going to be as bad as I'd feared, after all.

But by the time my tongue returned to start a second sweep -- returned to probe again, right down deep, into the cleavage between prison officer Natalie's big and second toes -- as though my saliva was some kind of slow-working flavour releasing chemical, suddenly I was revolted beyond words by the foulest, filthiest, vilest of tangy taste sensations.

Prison officer Natalie sensed my sudden disquiet.

But, without interrupting her enjoyment of her third course by bothering to address me or otherwise inconveniencing herself, prison officer Natalie simply pressed the ball of her free foot more firmly into my Adam's apple, and adjusted her foot in my mouth to clutch my tongue in an even more dominating, even more subduing toe-grip ... until I settled down again.

A few moments later, prison officer Natalie removed her now cleaned toes from my mouth. Without delay she moved on to the next foot-cleaning stage: she pushed the bottom of her heel against my lips, and again, with the sole of her other foot she none too gently face-slapped me in an authoritative and unmistakable instruction: Open up!

Obediently, I promptly complied ... And prison officer Natalie promptly inserted her heel, pushing, and pushing, until my straining, ever more widely opening mouth was accommodating as much of the bottom of her dirty, grubby heel as she was able to shove into it. With the sole of her other foot she then face-slapped me again, in another tyrannical and unmistakable instruction: Suck my heel!

A tear of utter humiliation leaked from my right eye. I felt it dribble its way down my cheek ... It would be the first of many.

How low, I'd come!

My mouth was so crammed, so ramjam full with the dirty, grubby bottom of prison officer Natalie's heel, there was barely room for my foot-cleaning tongue to perform its dreadful work.

But as prison officer Melanie yet again recrossed her ankles with a careless, jarring uncushioned thud of one of her heels, right on top of my head, in availing herself of my under-the-table footrest service ... I did the best that I could.

And so it was, that, to the accompanying sounds of prison officers Natalie and Melanie's dessert spoons chinking against their dessert bowls as they tucked into their third course Neapolitan ice-cream and strawberries, I tongue-scoured clean the bottom of prison officer Natalie's dirty, grubby heel.

And, I had no choice, as I stared at the equally grubby ball of prison officer Natalie's foot, and at the undersides of her now clean toes -- now-clean toes, that she tauntingly and triumphantly wiggled and scrunched, right in front of my eyes -- but to endure, mere inches from my face, the infuriating sounds of prison officer Melanie's thin-rubber soled flip flops, slap slap slap slapping away against the bottoms of her bare heels, as she used the top of my head as her under-the-table footrest.

With time at a premium, prison officer Melanie now took her own turn at presenting the soles of her dirty bare feet to me to be tongue-cleaned ... While prison officer Natalie, now, availed herself of the top of my head, as her conveniently positioned, under-the-table footrest.

The dirty soles and in-between-the-toes tastes of prison officer Melanie's feet -- though again, very different, just as their foot odours were very different -- were every bit as horrible as those of prison officer Natalie's: full of the most vile, stomach-turning, over-ripe blue cheese flavours.

Nonetheless, I performed the same industrious and assiduous Table Service functions for prison officer Melanie, as I had for prison officer Natalie.

These foully abusive, vilely repugnant, horribly violating oral atrocities seemed to go on for much longer than they actually did: for just as long as it took prison officers Melanie and Natalie to consume their third course Neapolitan ice-cream and strawberries.