The Jailhouse Blues Ch. 01

"Prison officer Billie Jo was calling you to ... Foot Service? And you wouldn't ... assume the position?"

"You'll soon find out what I'm talking about, Lenny. Just as soon as she gets back with Poison Ivy. Poison Ivy will want to begin your indoctrination immediately - that's what they call it here, Lenny: indoctrination."

"Prison officers Natalie and Melanie were telling me something of the sort, in the security checkpoint building. A lot of stuff about foot service, and assuming the position, and making sure that I always pleased the prison officers - oh, and a lot of stuff about showing due propriety, where females were concerned. I thought they were just making it all up - like I'd thought prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo were ... Okay, Ross. You were saying ...?"

"Yes ... So, for not assuming the position when prison officer Billie Jo was summoning me to Foot Service, she handcuffed me to the cell's bars - on the outside, that is, so that other prisoners on the Level could watch, as an example to them. Then she pulled down my shorts, and caned seven sorts of you know what out of me. I was in so much agony, I couldn't sit down afterwards ... But, almost right after, prison officer Billie Jo had given me something else, to ... to take my mind off it."

Ross's mentioning of shorts reminded me of prison officer Bella Donna's order to change into my prisoner's uniform ... "What? She'd given you something else, to take your mind off—"

"Later, Lenny ... I'll get to it soon enough. And there's more, too, after that."

"Okay," I said, pulling on my pair of dark grey, soft fabric bootees. I then grabbed one of the two tubular-framed dark-grey canvas folding-chairs that were leaning against the wall, unfolded it, and sat down. "The floor is yours," I told Ross, and settled in to listen to his first-hand account of prison officer Billie Jo's dastardly doings.

"Prison officer Bella Donna had wanted to join in. She's a demon with the cane, is Poison Ivy - a real hellcat. But on that occasion she had to settle for watching and encouraging. Because prison officer Billie Jo told her: 'No, Bel - he's mine!' She really had it in for me, Lenny. After I crossed her ... after I said no, to her. No prisoner in here gets to defy her, and tell the tale sitting down.

"And then on top of that, as I said before, prison officer Billie Jo recommended to the Governor that another month be added on to my original one-month sentence. And of course the Governor approved the recommended sanction, as she does all prison officers' such recommendations for extra prison time - "slow learners", she calls such prisoners.

"But it had all been to no avail, my non-compliance - that's what they call it here, Lenny: non-compliance.

"Prison officer Billie Jo, she ... she caned me, and caned me, and caned me. The pain! It got so bad! I was screaming, and screaming, and begging her to stop - and I mean, begging. I was completely defenceless; couldn't do a damn thing about it. I was restrained by my wrists to the bars of the cell, with my shorts pulled right down, and I was yelling and screaming in pain. She said, in between her cane strokes, stuff like: 'Dare to defy me, will you, prisoner Chapman?'. She was really whupping me!"

Ross went quiet for a minute, remembering the traumatic occasion.

"When you're ready, Ross," I said.

"Eventually, I ... I submitted. I submitted, to prison officer Billie Jo: I finally assumed the position, for Foot Service.

"It - it was the pain, Lenny! I'd never known anything like it. It just got so, so bad! In the end, I - I had to do it! I ... I just couldn't take, any more!"

"All right, mate. All right ... take your time," I said soothingly.

"We've all got our limits, Lenny."

"I know, mate."

I could hardly believe what Ross was telling me.

As he re-lived those terrible moments, I could see the remembered pain, written all over his face. I thought I could actually see the resultant stress lines, forever etched into it.

Just what the hell sort of place was this?

After a moment or two, my cellmate continued. "And then there was my second offence. In fact, it occurred right after my first - and I mean, right after. Right after prison officer Billie Jo got back to my cell, after she'd been to see the Governor to report me.

"As I said, I'd - I'd submitted, to prison officer Billie Jo. I'd told her I'd do as she told me. And I'd ... assumed the position, for Foot Service.

"After prison officer Billie Jo had whupped me into submission with her cane, I thought I was prepared to do anything - anything! - to avoid her taking her cane to me again. But ... I was wrong.

"Because then, she said she wanted to put her foot in my mouth ... can you believe that? Put her foot, in my mouth, Lenny! Lenny: Her foot! In my mouth!"

"All right ... okay ... You need to calm down a bit, mate," I said. "Just settle down, yeah?"

Ross nodded, but nonetheless ran his fingers through his hair in great agitation. Re-living the still vivid memory, in all of its harrowing, nightmarish horror, clearly wasn't easy for him.

Ross then went on - it was clear that he wanted to tell me everything; that, now that he'd started, he wanted to get it all off his chest. "She - prison officer Billie Jo - secured my wrists into the bracelets set into the cell's bars. Then she stood with her back to me. And, from where I was positioned, she was like authority personified. She looked so powerful, so dominant. So ... superior.

"I waited, staring at the backs of her legs; at her shapely, tanned calves. And at the cheeks of her bottom, pressing against the cotton fabric of her pale blue short skirt ... but I wasn't waiting for long.

"She slipped her right foot from her flip flop, and raised the sole of her foot to within a few inches of my face. She told me to look at her sole. To study it - and study it carefully. Study it well, she told me. She said I was going to be seeing her feet a lot, from now on. A hell of a lot. Up close, and personal.

"While I was studying the sole of prison officer Billie Jo's right foot, just like she'd said, she told me she would be requiring Foot Service, in a moment. She said she would be wanting me to suck on her toes, individually, and to thoroughly lick all in between them - the toe cleavages, she called them - and I was to swallow everything my tongue dislodged, as I went from toe to toe. She told me she would be wanting me to lick all up and down her soles, too, using 'firm and determined, dirty-sole cleaning tongue strokes', she said.

"She said she could just as easily wipe her soles clean on my tongue, herself - and sometimes, she would, because she enjoyed doing that; enjoyed a good self-service scrub, as she'd called it. But, in the main, that was what I was there for: to do all of the work, and to provide the service. It was a question of propriety, she told me, and that's what I'm here to learn all about.

"She said: 'A man's tongue is the best exfoliating tool known to woman'. And so, she said, after I'd licked and sucked the rest of her sole clean, still standing with her back to me, she was going to rest her heels in my mouth. First, her right heel, and then her left heel. Pushing them in, so that I could 'work on them properly', she told me. Give the bottoms of her grubby heels a good tongue-scouring.

"She said to me: 'My feet are dirty, prisoner Chapman. My feet are all grimy and sweaty from walking the Levels all day in these flip flops, keeping the likes of you in line. So this is where you come in, lowlife: You are a footrest, and a foot-cleaner - a foot slave - prisoner Chapman. In the service of every prison officer in Greystone Prison. And now, you are going to tongue-clean my dirty feet, for me: First, my right foot. And then my left foot. Now, get your ungentlemanly mouth open, prisoner Chapman - wide open. So that I can get all of my toes in there and use your tongue as my wash sponge; so that you can work your wash-sponge tongue all in between them, and clean out all the crud. I want to get my toes in nice and deep, where they'll get a good soak from all of the saliva that, even against your will, the taste of my dirty, sweaty feet will cause you to naturally provide in abundance ... Now, prisoner Chapman: open up!' she'd said."

Looking at Ross's eyes, as he said all of this, was like looking into some combat-fatigued soldier's haunted, 1,000-yard stare.

"And ... and I said no ..." said Ross, his voice thick with emotion, "... again."

"Did you?" I said. "So ... what did she say?"

"She said: 'Do you want to feel some more of my cane, prisoner Chapman? Because, trust me: I'm not even warmed up, yet. You think that, now, after just a few little love-taps, you know what pain is. Well, think again, prisoner Chapman: You don't. By the time I've finished with you, your buttocks will look like two over-sized burger patties. Well, prisoner Chapman ...? It's decision time. And I'm short on patience. So, what's it going to be ...? Believe me, you'll be doing exactly as I tell you, in the end.' That's what she said, Lenny."

I released a breath - a breath that I hadn't realised I'd been holding. "So ... what happened?"

"I told her, 'No, Miss Billie Jo, I don't want to feel some more of your cane. But ... letting you put your foot in my mouth? No, Miss Billie Jo. I can't let you do that. That's where I draw the line. If you put your foot in my mouth, Miss Billie Jo, I'll ... I'll bite it.' That's what I told her."

"You didn't!" I exclaimed.

"I did. But I wouldn't have bitten her foot - I'm not that stupid. But she didn't know that, did she? Not for sure. And anyway, why should she take the risk?"

This was beyond belief.

This time I stayed quiet. I waited for my cellmate to go on, in his own time, in his own way. I knew he would: it was obvious he was glad to have someone to unburden himself to; glad to get all of this stuff off his chest, at last. And I sensed, now, that he was getting closer to the real meat of his story.

Ross continued, albeit brokenly, as tortured remembrances occasionally interrupted his painful narrative. But he pressed on gamely.

"I thought ... I thought prison officer Billie Jo was going to cane me again, make my buttocks look like two over-sized burger patties, just like she'd threatened ... but she didn't.

"She just stood there, for what seemed ages, just looking at me. She didn't talk. Because she was thinking - thinking about what to do about my non-compliance. Thinking something up.

"And then ... and then this look came over her face, and I knew I was in trouble - big trouble. Because I knew that she'd thought-up something bad - very bad. She told me: 'Right! I'm through with playing around with you, prisoner Chapman. No more pussyfooting about! And, when you are crying yourself to sleep tonight, remember: you asked for it!' That's what she said."

"Asked for it? Asked for what?" I said, unable to contain my curiosity.

"Let me tell you. Let me tell you in my own time, and in my own way ... I'm just coming to it."

"Okay," I said.

"Prison officer Billie Jo made two journeys: First, to the Governor's office, to recommend another month be added onto my now two-month sentence, making it a three-month tariff - that's what she called it: a tariff. And also, to get the Governor's approval for her chosen method of chastisement - that's what they call punishment, here: chastisement.

"And her second journey - duly furnished with the Governor's written Approval Order - was to the doctor's surgery. To make ... arrangements.

"See, in emergencies, the prison doctor sort of doubles-up as a dentist. And ... well, look, Lenny, see for yourself ..." Ross said, opening his mouth wide, for me to see inside. "This is what prison officer Billie Jo had the doctor-cum-dentist do to me ... see? See, Lenny? See?"

I saw.

"My ... god!" I said. I was shocked to the core.

Just what the hell sort of hellhole was this?

Ross continued, even more brokenly. "I - I can remember it, just like it was yesterday ... She ... prison officer Billie Jo, she had the doctor - the dentist, who the hell - needle my gums all up with local anesthetic, and ... and then pull all of my teeth out! All of them, Lenny! All of them! I haven't got a single tooth left in my head!"

Ross ran his hands through his hair again, in his now greatly increased agitation. "He didn't even put me under! Prison officer Billie Jo told the doctor-cum-dentist, 'Prisoner Chapman won't be needing any laughing gas, doctor - I'll be laughing enough for both of us! Ha ha ha ha!'

"And she helped, Lenny!" Ross almost yelled, in outrage and remembered pain. "She helped that butcher. Aiding and abetting, they'd call it, in any other walk of life! She held me down - kept my head still! Prison officer Billie Jo held my head still, and she laughed, every time the dentist plopped another tooth into the metal basin! 'There goes another one!' she'd say, all happy and sing-song voiced."

Ross was becoming over-excited. Getting all carried away, upon so vividly recalling the appalling atrocity perpetrated against him. "All right, mate ... all right. Just ... just steady on, eh?" I said, trying to get my cellmate's pulse rate down a bit.

Again, Ross showed me the results of his impromptu dental 'treatment' - his execrable extractions - at prison officer Billie Jo's behest. The horrendous results, of his single-session surgery at the hands of the doctor-cum-dentist.

"Would you, steady on? Eh, Lenny? Eh?"

I stared, aghast - horrified - at the gummy, ransacked ruins of my cellmate's inexpertly excavated mouth.

And, I thought, considering he'd sustained these injuries - because that's what they were: grievous injuries, inflicted by the cack-handed amateur dentist - nearly four months ago, now, his mouth didn't seem to be healing up very well, either.

There were still bits of caked and congealing, fresh-looking blobs of blood in most of the cavities; more especially so, in the larger craters. His gums still looked sore, and very tender ... So how come they weren't healing too well? I wondered.

My cellmate continued, "And, get this, Lenny: prison officer Billie Jo told me she's glad she did it - glad, that she 'custom-fitted' me. Remember what she said, about a custom-fit? She says she can get a good grip now, with her nice new toe-holds - her 'improvements', she calls them. It was her little joke, her 'custom-fit' comment. Oh, she loves a joke - they both do, her and Poison Ivy. In fact, all of the prison officers here do. It's another of their cruel ways, of winding us all up.

"And," Ross went on, even more hotly; the heights of his emotion close to peaking now, "prison officer Bella Donna - Poison Ivy! - when she saw what her sadistic sidekick had had done to me, she told me: 'Excellent! Truly excellent! And now, prisoner Chapman, maybe you'll know when to keep your mouth open!' And she laughed, and laughed, and laughed. They both did!"

I couldn't believe it. What I'd heard. What I'd seen. I was stunned.

"Uh ... you've told me about two of your extra offences, Ross ... Didn't you say you'd committed three?" I prompted.

"I'm ... I'm still coming to that. This isn't easy, you know."

"Okay," I said. "Take your time. Tell it your own way."

"It was a week later."

"Okay," I said.

"Prison officer Billie Jo told me she'd allow a week for my mouth to heal. And then she'd be back, to see if I'd finally come to my senses - learned my lesson, as she put it. Well ... I hadn't. But, let me tell you it in order."

"Okay," I said.

"For all of that week, my work duties were divided: working in the kitchen, doing veg prep and wash-up; working in the prison laundry, hand-washing the prison officers' pale blue uniform panties; and working down in the basement, in the Foot-Massage Room." Ross laughed humourlessly. "In there, at least, the prison officers want us to use our hands, to massage their feet.

"So ... A week later, prison officer Billie Jo turns up at my cell. Right on cue, as promised. In fact, I'd heard her coming - I'd recognise the sound of her flip flops anywhere, anytime. It's distinctive. But I think probably you could say that of all the prison officers here, if you are especially listening out for certain ones ... Listening to all of their flip flops, slap slap slap slapping away all of the time - it drives me nuts! But the sound of hers, is the sound I dread - hers, and Poison Ivy's.

"Anyway, as I was saying ... She was just like she was the first time. She said that she hoped, for my sake - like she cares about that! - that I'd learned my lesson, and that I'd come to my senses.

"She ordered me to assume the position for Foot Service. And I said, 'Yes, Miss Billie Jo', and I did as she told me, and assumed the position. Then she secured my wrists to the bracelets set into the cell's bars.

"She started winding me up then; you know, the psychological cruelty bit. Prison officer Billie Jo is very good at that - all of the prison officers are. Very good at lowering, and then gradually chipping away at what's left of your pride. Relentlessly degrading your sense of self-esteem, until you begin to feel like less than nothing - teaching us a sense of propriety towards females, they call it.

"In fact, Lenny, there's nothing the prison officers love more, than, when they have ordered you to assume the position for Foot Service, knowing that you are resenting them, with all of your heart, and loathing them, with all of your soul - absolutely hating their guts - whilst performing the very act of worshiping their feet.

"Anyway, as I was saying ... Prison officer Billie Jo said, in that deriding voice of hers, 'If it wasn't for the need to keep pieces of scum like you off the streets, prisoner Chapman, there would be no reason for me to be here at all, would there?' And I answered, 'No, Miss Billie Jo, there wouldn't', all respectful, like.

"Then she turned her back on me, and she took a couple of steps back, right up to the cell's bars. She slipped her right foot from her flip flop, and raised the sole of her foot right up to within just a couple of inches of my face. She sort of wiggled and scrunched and splayed her toes, right under my nose, and I caught a good whiff of her foot scent ... and it wasn't a nice smell, I can tell you."

Ross broke off for a moment, shaking his head, as though trying to clear it of the remembered unpleasant foot smell.

"Then she said: 'See how dirty the soles of my feet are today, prisoner Chapman? And sweaty, too? And, do you know how they get all dirty and grimy, and so sweaty, too? And the bottoms of my heels, all grubby, like that; and see ... there's even a little black tidemark, around the edge? It's because I patrol the Levels all day, in these flip flops, keeping the likes of you in line. It's a thankless job. Watching the rats, in their traps, you could say. And keeping them there - right where they belong, away from civilsed society. Keeping vermin like you quarantined, and under strict control, preparing you for your release back into society. Yes, it's a thankless job - but someone's got to do it. So ... why not me? Eh, prisoner Chapman? Why not me?' And I answered, all respectful, like, 'No reason at all, Miss Billie Jo. If that's what you want to do.' And she said back, 'Prisoner Chapman, you have no idea - not the slightest conception - of just how much I want to do this job; of just how much, prisoner Chapman, I want to keep the likes of you down.' That's what she said, Lenny."

I was riveted, waiting for my cellmate to go on. I didn't say anything - I didn't want to interrupt the flow ...

"Prison officer Billie Jo then said, 'And this is the part of my job I like the most, prisoner Chapman: putting my dirty, grimy, sweaty feet into prisoners' mouths, for them to suck and lick clean, for me. Lowlifes - like you, prisoner Chapman, who don't know how to behave towards ladies! It's all you are fit for! Now, I'm not going to play around with you - pussyfooting about, like I did last week. So, if you know what's good for you, don't give me the runaround this time. Now: Get that mouth of yours open - and open wide! Or, this time, prisoner Chapman, I'll really make you sorry. I'll make your session at the dentist's seem like a summer's-day stroll in the park!' That's what she said, Lenny."