23.
Nearly a week had passed since Stan turned up at the Newtown Correctional Facility for Women ... disguised as a guard. It had been pretty uneventful as weeks go. By day I slaved away at my prison job in the kitchen. By night I 'serviced' my cellmates, Buckner and Rodriguez, and from time to time Deb Morton and Cindy Chao as well. Stan watched, with a silly shit-eating grin, whenever he was on duty. And when the girls invited him to join in, he usually did ... in keeping, of course, with his cover.
However, when Cindy asked him if he wanted to fuck her, I shot him such a 'don't you dare' look that he quickly backed off, offering what amounted to a silly lame excuse. There were limits to what I was willing to tolerate, and he damn well knew it!
But the end of the week, the Saturday of the so-called ‘big event’ finally rolled around, and as evening approached Matron and the guards could be seen roaming the corridors, collecting the inmates who had been assigned to participate.
The gathered us in the dining hall. We numbered roughly two dozen, including Buckner, Rodriguez, Morton, Chao, Greene and myself. When all were accounted for, Matron and the guards shepherded us to a staging area in the prison's seldom-used D wing. There, we were addressed as a group by Matron.
"Welcome girls," she began in an officious tone. "As you all know, this is the long anticipated ‘big event’. Each of you have been hand-picked by Warden to perform tonight for the enjoyment of his honored guests. The event is to be a 'themed' affair, which means you will be in costume, and it goes without saying that once the curtain goes up each and everyone of you will do exactly as you’re told ... no ifs or buts, understood? The theme is ancient Rome. Here are your costumes.”
Two guards promptly appeared carrying large cartons, which were laid on the floor before us and opened.
"Strip down girls and get these duds on, and make it snappy," instructed Matron, checking her wrist watch,
We did as we were told, removing our prison tees and panties (at least those of us who had some panties to remove), and pulling costumes from the open cartons. The costumes consisted of Roman-style stolae comprised of two rectangular segments of nearly sheer fabric that hung loosely from the shoulders and were joined at the sides by a pair of simple ties. The stolae were relatively short, falling to about mid-thigh. We also wore a simple linen loin cloth. Garlands of flowers were available to put in our hair and, to emphasize the ‘slave girl’ role we were to play, we were shackled at ankles and wrists like common slaves.
Once we were costumed, they formed us up in a column and marched us through a pair of double doors. As we passed into the adjoining space there were gasps and murmurs from everyone. We had entered what apparently was at one time a gymnasium. One could tell by the basketball hoop brackets still visible at either end. But, the space had been elaborately transformed ... into a mock up of a Roman arena, enclosed by an oval shaped, shoulder high, painted wooden wall topped by bleachers. The floor of the arena was covered with white sand, and as we were led into the arena, overhead heat lamps beat down on us, rendering the air stiflingly warm and the sand beneath our feet quite hot. Ominously, at one end of the arena stood a pair of heavy upright rough-hewn wooden crosses!
In the bleachers were seated 15-20 older men, all wearing Roman togas of the senatorial kind ... presumably the Warden's wealthy, high-roller guests. Each of them wore a mask, but I was pretty sure that I could identify among them ... since they were all excitedly conversing ... the voices of the three whom I had 'performed' solo for in my earlier private session.
A number of male and female guards were also present, including Stan, who looked quite silly in breast-plate, Roman military footwear and helmet. I seriously didn't think he had the legs for such a get-up.
We were paraded twice around the arena ... stumbling along in our shackles ... for the appreciation of the guests, who followed our every move closely ...and then drawn up in four ranks of six each near the center. I took my place in the second rank, and waited ... shifting my bare feet on the hot sand, and looking intently at the spectators in hopes of somehow identifying a few of them for future reference.
Warden appeared at this point, outfitted like the others, in senatorial splendor, but without a face mask.
"Welcome everyone," he said, with a broad theatrical sweep of his outstretched hand. "Welcome one and all to this very special event, staged entirely for your delight and sensuous pleasure. Behold! These 24 lovely Roman slave girls arrayed before you are here to entertain you, first with a gladiatorial fight, and secondly to accede to and satisfy you every desire."
There was a round of polite but enthusiastic applause. Warden waited for it to die down before continuing.
"Now to get the ball rolling, permit me to lay out the rules for our first staged entertainment: a gladiatorial contest featuring team combat! Three teams of paired nearly-naked slave girls will square off against one another, armed with long bullwhips. The girls in each team will be bound together at one wrist, leaving the other hand free to wield a whip. The object of the contest is to be the only team standing at the end of the fight. In order to do well, the girls in each team must work together so that one can lash out while the other covers her back from attack by one of the other teams. A point will be awarded for any whip strike that succeeds in leaving a mark on an opponent or elicits a cry of pain. Double points will be awarded for any whip strike that brings an opponent down, and triple points for whip strikes that keep an opponent on the sand for an extended period of time or permanently. Points will appear as they are scored on the scoreboard at the far end of the arena. The contest will last for 30 minutes, or until two teams are down on the sand and unable to rise ... whichever comes first. Only one team will be declared the winner, but among the two losing teams, the one with the most points scored against it will pay the price for losing by spending the rest of the evening crucified naked on the two Roman crosses you see at the far end of the arena."
That revelation brought thunderous applause, and a shrill whistle or two. The guests were certainly getting into this!
"Now for the teams," said Warden as he began walking up and down the ranks of nervous inmates.
I held my breath, but already knew that I would undoubtedly be chosen.
From the front rank, he chose Buckner and Rodriguez and dubbed them Team One.
From the second rank, he picked me and Deb Morton.
"I can't be on the same team with her," I protested.
"What?" he said, stopping and turning to me with a displeased expression.
"I put her in this place. Surely you know that. She hates me!"
"Shut up, Moore." he hissed under his breath. "Do as you're goddamn told and don't complain!"
From the third rank, he selected Cindy Chao and the new girl, Greene, as the third team.
"Gentlemen, as you can see, the teams are set," he announced turning to the spectators. "You may place bets if you please on the outcome. The betting table is at the far end under the scoreboard. In the meantime, the guards will disrobe the teams and prepare them for combat. The rest of the slave girls are instructed to join spectators and assist them in their enjoyment of the coming spectacle in any way they desire."
With all haste the 18 remaining girls shuffled off, leaving the arena floor to take their places in the company of the guests.
Buckner, Rodriguez, Chao, Greene, Morton and I, remained where we were while the guards removed our shackles and stolae, leaving us naked except for our loincloths.
Then Matron came out bearing three short lengths of rope to bind our wrists as Warden had indicated. My right wrist was bound to Deb Morton's left.
"But I'm right handed," I complained.
"Shut up, Moore," whispered Matron. "Do as you're told!"
I was given a whip to hold in my left hand. It had a wooden handle, to which was attached a long braided length of leather, adorned by a knotted ball at the far end. I gave it a tentative practice snap, which was quite pitiful compared to the powerful cracks and flying sand that Buckner displayed as she limbered up not far away.
"We're going to have to work together closely," I whispered to Deb Morton. "It's pretty obvious that Buckner and Rodriquez will win, no matter what we do, so our best chance is to make sure Chao and Greene come in last. Greene looks especially scared and vulnerable. She's the weak link. I think we can take her down quickly. Second place, as I said, is about all we can hope for in this fight, so let's make it happen. The last thing we want, I can tell you from past experience, because I was actually crucified once, is to spend the evening hanging naked on those two crosses."
"You forget that Cindy is my friend, and you are our sworn enemy," replied Deb as she cracked her whip a couple of times in practice. I really don't want to hurt her."
"Well, you really have no choice, do you? I'm going after Chao and Greene as soon as this begins. You follow and cover my back against Buckner and Rodriguez, ok?"
"I don't know. We'll see."
"All is ready, will the teams take their places," warned Warden.
We were led to a place in the sand that placed us at one point of a triangular space separating the three teams.
"Are the bets placed and the scoreboard ready?"
Looking toward the scoreboard, I could see Stan standing there, nodding affirmatively. Great, I thought, but rather than feel any animosity towards him, I quickly diverted my attention to Chao and Greene, critically appraising the distance between them and us.
"Then begin!"
A horn of the type used at hockey and basketball games blared. Everyone in the stands rose to their feet as the teams began to stalk one another. I hustled towards Chao and Greene, hoping that Morton would follow as I had asked. Three quick strides and I covered half the distance, and to my relief I wasn't alone. Deb was apparently on board. I took aim and flicked my whip. It was a weak strike, but to my delight it hit, catching Greene unprepared and slashing across her thighs. She jumped backwards and cried out.
"Point. Team 2!" shouted Matron, who was officiating. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a numeral '1' appear on the electronic scoreboard.
Taking advantage of my early success, I lashed out again, this time wrapping the tip of my whip around Greene's right ankle and upending her when I pulled back.
"Two points. Team 2." intoned Matron, holding two fingers aloft.
I felt a tug on my other wrist as, behind me, Deb was maneuvering and vigorously cracking her whip in an attempt to hold Buckner and Rodriguez at bay. The distraction cut short my advantage over a fallen Greene. Chao was quick to advance on me with a rapid-fire series of strikes from which I backed away unscathed, but in the process backed into a lightening strike by Buckner that ripped across my back at shoulder-blades height.
"Owwww," I screamed as I staggered forward under the force of the searing blow ... straight into Chao's range. A viciously sharp lash struck right across my chest, catching me square on the nipples, wrapping around my back, spinning me around and toppling me onto the sand. I rolled from my side to my back and ran my hand across the burning wound on my chest. It came away smeared with blood!
"Three Points. Team One!" officiated Matron.
Deb Morton meanwhile was doing a tolerably good job of keeping Buckner and Rodriguez away from me, despite being handicapped by having to crouch due to being tied to my wrist when I was on the ground. But I knew that couldn’t hold them off forever, so I scrambled to my feet.
At that point, everyone backed off and began to circle, looking for an opening. Sweat stung my eyes as I eyed our opponents warily.
Chao broke the standoff by launching an attack on Morton and me, from which we were forced to sidestep and give ground, and that in turn put us square in the sights of a hard charging Buckner and Rodriguez. Caught in a crossfire between the other two teams, Deb and I suffered the consequences, taking rapid-fire whip lashes both back and front that forced us both to our knees. A wrap-around strike on my neck dragged me to the sand. I dropped my whip, curled into a fetal position and raised my arm in a futile attempt of ward off the whip lashes that raked my body. Moments later Deb went down, sprawling face down over me.
Our opponents reaped a flood of points at our expense on the scoreboard as we writhed in agony on the hot sand under what seemed like an unending rain of punishing lashes. It was pitiful. There was no escape and there was no mercy. Deb and I were finished, beaten and reeling, with gritty hot sand covering our sweat-sheened bodies and invading our wounds.
Buckner and Rodriguez were by then free to turn their attention to Chao and Greene, who soon gave ground under a frenzied assault from the two stronger women.
Wearily, I lifted my head from the sand to witness Chao and Greene going down to ignominious defeat. I tried to lift and push aside Deb, who was lying half-conscious on top of me, but her body was limp and I simply no longer had the strength to move her dead weight. So I gave up. There was nothing left to do but watch Buckner and Rodriquez mete out punishment to Team 3.
By then Greene was down on the sand, sobbing and begging for mercy. Chao was on her knees vainly trying to fight back before going down, which she inevitably did. Both girls were soon finished, lying side by side on the sand ... Greene face down, Chao on her back ... scarcely moving.
Satisfied, Buckner and Rodriguez withdrew, and to the wild applause of the spectators, took a victory stance halfway between their vanquished foes.
That was too much. I lay my head back down on the sand and closed my eyes in resignation as the horn sounded, signaling the end of the contest.
“Gentlemen! We have our winner!” chortled Warden, who strode back into the arena to hold up Buckner’s and Rodriguez’ arms in victory. “Team One has triumphed with a mere six points scored against them!”
Applause and cheers filled the air.
“And now for the losers ... both Team 2 and 3 have been taken down, but according to the scoreboard ...as everyone can see ...Team 3 has managed to eke out a narrow advantage, having had 88 points scored against it as opposed to 96 points scored against team 2.”
Another round of applause.
“Therefore I declare inmates Moore and Morton of Team 2 the real losers. And I might add ... as an aside that may amuse you all ... that inmate Moore just happens to be the celebrated ex-NYPD Detective, Barbara Moore, who unfortunately for her is with us tonight after having squandered her famed reputation as a crime fighter for a life of crime that has landed her here at Newtown. Proof that crime never pays."
Whistles and more applause.
“So gentlemen, we will now take a break from the action on the floor of the arena. Please avail yourself, during the intermission, of the plentiful refreshments on hand, as well as the considerable favors of the willing Roman slave girls sitting amongst you.”
Still more applause and cheers.
“Here on the arena floor the action will return in roughly 30 minutes. The second part of tonight’s entertainment promises to be quite exciting. I promise you that you will thrill to witness our losers ... inmates Moore and Morton ... suffer before your very eyes ... in all its eye-opening realism ... the terrible spectacle of a Roman crucifixion!”
So, for a while it´s easy for him.
Oh well, she WAS guilty after all. 
