Prison Porn

"All rise," the bailiff commanded the occupants of Courtroom 7-B. "The Circuit Court of the Eleventh Judicial Circuit of the State of Florida, in and for Miami-Dade County is now in session, the Honorable Juan Vazquez proceeding."

Judge Vazquez, clad in a black robe, entered from a doorway in the rear of the courtroom and took his seat behind the bench.

"Be seated," Judge Vazquez said to the courtroom.

The judge sipped his water, clicked the pad on his computer, and began reading:

"The next case on the docket is the State of Florida vs. Rosa Quintana, case number 22-84289. Counsel, make your appearances for the record please."

A woman in a black suit rose from her seat at the prosecution table.

"Karen Johnson, on behalf of the State of Florida."

A man in a charcoal grey suit stood at the defense table.

"Jorge Casal for the Defendant, Rosa Quintana, your honor."

"Be seated."

"Is the State ready to proceed?"

"Yes, your honor."

"Is the Defense ready?"

"Yes, your honor. But first, we have a renewed motion to set aside the verdict. We have an affidavit from a witness who came forward after the trial."

"Let me see it."

Mr. Casal walked to the judge's bench and handed him a two page document."

"Has the State seen this?"

"Yes, your honor, I gave them a copy yesterday."

"Ms. Johnson?"

"That is correct, your honor. We received a copy at 6:00 last evening."

"Do you need time to respond?"

"No, your honor. It's legally insufficient."

"I agree. The motion is denied. Anything else?"

"In that case, we have a motion to continue this sentencing hearing."

"On what basis?"

"The Defendant's mother was hospitalized with Covid last night. Ms. Quintana is distraught. Her children need a caretaker."

"Who is with them now?"

"Her sister."

"Denied. Is that everything?"

"Yes, your honor."

"Prosecution?"

"We're set, your honor."

"Well alright, we're finally ready to proceed. Will the Defendant please rise?"

Mr. Casal and the woman sitting next to him both stood up. The woman was dressed in a navy blue suit with a white blouse beneath her fitted jacket. Her dark brown hair was tied in a ponytail that hung just past her shoulders. Mr. Casal took her hand and squeezed it. She looked up into his eyes and bit her lip. Mr. Casal looked straight ahead, waiting for the judge to speak.

"Ms. Quintana, the jury has found you guilty of two counts of wire fraud, one count of grand theft, and one count of forgery. I have read the pre-sentencing report, listened to the testimony of your victims, and reviewed the sentencing guidelines. In addition, I have reviewed your motion for leniency. I understand that you have two small children, and the oldest has a chronic medical condition. I accept the assertion that the motive for your crimes was to provide for their basic needs, and for the older child's necessary medical care.

"The sentencing guidelines provide for a minimum sentence of seven years, and a maximum sentence of twenty years. Taking everything into consideration, the Court sentences you to ninety months incarceration at Florida State Prison for Women, to be followed by thirty months of supervision following your release. You are to receive credit for time served prior to today. How long has she been held since her conviction?"

"Twenty-nine days, your honor," the prosecutor answered.

"Credit for twenty-nine days," the judge added.

Rosa immediately broke into tears.

"Your honor, the Defense moves for release pending appeal," Mr. Casal

"Denied. This proceeding is adjourned." The judge slammed his gavel.

"All rise," the bailiff commanded.

Judge Vazquez stood up and left the courtroom through the door behind the bench.

Two men and a woman wearing the green uniforms of the Florida Department of Corrections approached Rosa. They pulled her hands behind her back and placed cuffs on her wrists. She was led from the courtroom through the main doorway, through the hallway to an elevator with the words "LAW ENFORCEMENT ONLY" painted on the doors. The officers hustled her into the car and pushed the button marked "B."

Once in the basement Rosa was led to a small room with a heavy steel door. The cuffs were removed, and she was stripped down to her underwear. The female officer patted her down, felt inside her bra and panties, and then handed her an orange jumpsuit. Rosa stepped into the jumpsuit, pulled the front zipper all the way up to her neck, and held out her hands. The handcuffs were once again placed on her wrists. One of the officers placed cuffs on her ankles that were connected by a short length of chain.

"Have a seat," the female officer said. "We will be leaving shortly."

Rosa sat on the bench attached to the wall.

The female officer and one of the male officers left. The other male officer remained in the room.

"Officer--," Rosa started.

"Shut up," the officer barked. "No talking. At all. Understand?"

The officer unsnapped the harness securing his nightstick on his belt."

Rosa gulped and nodded her head. Then she put her head down and sobbed.

* * *

Three hours later there was a knock on the door. The officer opened the door, turned to Rosa and said, "Let's go."

Two officers helped Rosa to her feet and led her from the room. She was taken down a hallway that ended at a heavy door requiring an officer to swipe with a badge to open. The door opened to an underground garage, where a green and white bus with metal grating over the windows awaited. She was dragged to the back of the bus and chained to a bar attached to the seat in front of her. Three other women were already seated, placed evenly apart in the back two-thirds of the bus, each similarly chained and secured.

* * *

Warden Angus Preston was in his office on the top floor of the main building when the bus carrying the new prisoners arrived. Two eighty-five inch monitors, each displaying up to fifty closed circuit feeds at a time, cycling at thirty second intervals, afforded him a view of any part of the prison he wanted to see.

The office door opened and busty blonde woman wearing the green Department of Corrections uniform entered.

"Here are the files, Sir," she said as she handed four manila folders to Angus.

"Thank you, Ms. Adams," he replied.

"I've told you," she paused at his desk. "My name is Laura. You can call me Laura."

"Laura, of course." He looked up to meet her eyes. "So, anything special in these files?"

"I think you will find the top file interesting," she answered. "Rosa Quintana--from Miami. She's thirty-two years old, husband left her with two small children, sentenced to ninety months."

"Cuban? Puerto Rican? Columbian? Mexican?"

"Nicaraguan."

"Interesting. And the other three?"

"Beverly Logan, African American, sentenced to twenty years."

"Not much we can do with her."

"Wait until you see her. You might change your mind."

"OK. And the other two?"

"Lynn Lavery, Caucasian, twenty-five, sentenced to fifteen months."

"That's probably not enough time."

"Exactly my thoughts."

"And the last one?"

"Shainna Murphy. Caucasian, thirty-three, forty to life."

"Ouch."

"Yeah, and she's a natural redhead. She would have been perfect."

"Oh, well. At least we have one prospect. Let's place Ms. Quintana in C-block, cell 16."

"With Mean Jean? She could get killed."

"I'll keep an eye on her. I want Jean to rough her up a little, make her afraid for her life. All three women we offered last month turned us down. I want Ms. Quintana to feel some desperation before we talk."

"I see. Very well, if you don't need anything else, I'll be heading home."

"Thank you, Laura. Do you want to stay and watch with me?"

"No thank you, sir. I'll let you enjoy this part by yourself. Good night."

"Good night."

Laura turned and left the office, closing the door securely behind her as she exited.

Angus turned to face his monitors. He tapped the keyboard, cycled through a portion of the eleven hundred individual feeds at his disposal, and selected one for each monitor. For the lefthand monitor he selected the prisoner intake room, and for the righthand monitor he selected the intake examination room. He poured himself a glass of bourbon, unzipped his pants, and sat back to watch.

* * *

The bus stopped inside the gate at the rear of the main building. Spotlights lit up the parking lot as though it were daytime. A steady rainfall pelted the bus and left puddles of dirty water all around the parking lot. A chain link tunnel covered in barbed wire led from the bus door to the building entrance.

"Prisoners!" the tall, African American guard bellowed from the front of the bus. "You have reached your destination. Listen up. I am only going to give these instructions one time. When I tell you to stand, I want all four of you to rise to your feet. You will be called to the front one at a time. You will be connected to a chain. When all four of you are chained together, we will open the door and exit the bus. It's still raining, so be careful walking. Walk briskly, but carefully. I don't want anyone to slip and fall. If one goes down, likely all four of you are going down. When we get inside the building, you will be taken to intake processing. You will be processed one at a time. Only the person being processed will be unchained. Don't ask to be unchained. Don't ask for a chair. Don't sit on the floor. And don't ask to go to the bathroom. Bathroom breaks will be provided when processing is concluded.

"Prisoners stand! Lavery, Lynn, step forward!"

A small white woman sporting pink and blonde hair stood and shuffled to the front of the bus.

"Logan, Beverly, step forward!"

A thick, medium height African American woman stood and made her way to the front of the bus. Her heavy swaying breasts, wide hips and round ass filled out the orange jump suit which strained to contain all her curves.

"Murphy, Shainna, step forward."

A tall, lightly freckled red-haired woman stood and worked her way to the front of the bus.

"Quintana, Rosa, step forward."

Rosa stood and made her way to the front of the bus. An officer wrapped a chain around her waist and attached it to the chain circling the waist of Shainna, the woman in front of her in line.

The bus door opened.

"Prisoners, follow me!"

Two officers stepped off the bus first, followed by the four prisoners. The last two officers followed behind.

Rain pelted the prisoners and officers as they walked the short distance through the chain-link tunnel. The lead officer touched a plate on the wall, spoke into an intercom, and waited for the door to buzz. The lock released with a click loud enough to be heard over the sound of the rain splashing on the pavement. The officer opened the door and ushered the prisoners into the building.

The room was dingy, but well lit. The air conditioner was turned to maximum. Rosa noticed three surveillance cameras positioned to cover the entire space. One officer slid a stack of papers under a plexiglass safety window. A minute later a smaller stack returned beneath the same window. The officer checked the signatures, turned, and left the room.

Another officer led the prisoners to a wall on the far side of the room. A yellow line on the floor demarcated where they were required to stand.

One by one, the prisoners were processed. First, they were photographed, and then they stood next to a desk where another officer completed more paperwork. Finally, they were taken one at a time to another room for their physical examinations.

Rosa stood next to the wall for nearly an hour. Water dripped from her hair and her clothes, forming small puddles at her feet. She watched as each of the other prisoners on the bus were processed. By the time she was led to the fingerprint station she was shivering and her arms were covered in goosebumps.

She proceeded through the fingerprint station, the photo station, and then sat at a desk with an officer for a quarter hour while her paperwork was processed. When the night supervisor signed off on her file, she was escorted to the examination room.

The officer that led her to the examination room removed her cuffs and the chain around her waist. He left, closing the door behind him.

"Quintana, Rosa?" An African American woman wearing a white lab gown over her blue scrubs and a blue surgical mask asked.

"Excuse me?" Rosa asked.

"Is that your name, prisoner?" the woman in the lab gown questioned Rosa, a note of exasperation present in her tone. "Are you Quintana, Rosa?"

"Yes," Rosa answered. "That's my name."

"I'm Althea Jackson. I'm the shift nurse."

"Hello," Rosa mumbled.

"Take off your clothes. Dump them in the hamper."

"Why?"

"Prisoner Quintana, listen to me carefully. I will not repeat myself. I don't have all night for this. Another bus is due any minute now. This will go much smoother for both of us if you do not speak unless I ask you a question. Do as I say, or I will call the guards for assistance and then I will conduct my examination. This is your one and only chance to be examined with some privacy. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Rosa nodded.

"Speak up. I can't hear you."

"Yes."

"That's better. Now show me you understand."

Rosa hesitated for a second, then untied and kicked off her soaked sneakers. She unzipped her orange jumpsuit and stepped out of it. She looked to her right and saw a large hamper where she dumped her jumpsuit. She returned to her place in front of the nurse.

"Underwear too," Althea said.

Rosa opened her mouth to protest, but a glance from the nurse silenced her. She reached behind to unclasp her bra, and then pulled her panties to the floor.

"Drop them in the hamper."

"But..."

"We will issue you new clothing when the examination is finished. Now step on the scale."

Rosa stood naked in the frigid room. She was shivering audibly. Her skin was covered in goose bumps, and her brown nipples stood out like rigid little fingertips pointing straight ahead. She stepped onto the scale. The nurse pulled up the stick to measure Rosa's height, and then slid the metal weights to record her weight.

"Five foot five, one hundred forty-eight pounds. Does that sound about right to you?"

"Y-yes," Rosa managed to say through chattering teeth.

"Sit over here so I can get your blood pressure."

Rosa sat on a chair against the wall. Nurse Jackson applied the blood pressure cuff and took her measurement.

"One eighty over ninety-six. That's high. Are you on any medication?"

"No."

"Have you been diagnosed with high blood pressure before?"

"No."

"It could be the stress of being here. I'm going to give you some meds, we will keep you in the infirmary overnight for observation and check you out in the morning. Now hop up on the examination table."

Rosa stood up, walked over to the examination table, and sat down.

"Hands and knees."

"Excuse me?"

"Get on your hands and knees. Head facing the wall."

Rosa complied. She heard a sound like elastic being snapped, and then a wet sound like air rushing in to replace a wet substance vacating a confined space.

"Face down against the table. Knees tucked underneath you. Arch your back."

Rosa adjusted her position as directed. She then felt a cold, wet object penetrating her vagina. When it curled insider her, she realized it was the nurse's finger probing her pussy. She was wearing a latex glove covered with KY jelly or some other similar substance. The one finger was followed by a second, and then a third. The three fingers swirled around inside, her, probing every part of her pussy.

"Hey! You can't..."

"Shut up. Not only can I -- I'm required to. It's standard procedure. This isn't for my pleasure. This is for the safety of everyone inside the facility."

Nurse Jackson continued probing. Rosa buried her face in the table as a wave of shame flushed over her body. She felt her temperature rising, and realized she was becoming angry at the needless violation of her body. Whatever medical or safety reasons served as justification for the probing, it must have been satisfied by this point.

"Are you done yet? There's obviously nothing in there."

"I'll let you know when I'm finished. Now shut up and be quiet. Unless you want me to call in a couple guards to finish your examination? I'm sure I could easily find some volunteers."

Rosa shut her mouth. She tried to think about something distracting, but the thoughts dissipated before they were fully formed. Nurse Jackson's fingers continued probing, and Rosa soon found her breathing becoming ragged. Her skin was warming, and she felt shame giving way to pleasure.

This dyke is going to make me cum, and there's nothing I can do to stop her. If I object, she'll send in some guards, and I'll probably be raped. I just got here! At least she's gentle--and sanitary. And she certainly knows her way around a pussy.

Rosa did her best to ignore the fingers sliding in and out of her pussy, but when Nurse Jackson's thumb found her clit she felt her arousal rise several levels all at once. She squirmed on the table and thrust her hips back against the invading fingers. She tried to resist the urge to cooperate, but her body was close to coming and wanted to finish. The sound of three wet fingers sloshing around in her flowing pussy combined with Rosa's ragged breathing were the only noises in the room.

And just like that, it was over. Nurse Jackson removed her slippery fingers, wiped them on her gown, and stepped to the side while she scribbled notes on a clipboard. Rosa wiggled her ass in frustration, shocked at her desire for the nurse to return and finish what she had started, but at the same time relieved that lesbian encounter had stopped. The mixed feelings exacerbated her frustration.

Should I finish myself off while she's not looking? At this point, it would only take a second. But what if I get caught?

Before she could act on her impulse, Rosa heard the now familiar sound of the nurse squeezing a tube of lubricant onto her gloved fingers. The wet, sticky sound of the gel squishing around the nurse's latex covered fingers caused a strange sensation of anticipation to arise in Rosa. Her thighs felt warm, and her breathing quickened.

Really? I'm excited by the thought of being sexually assaulted again? By a lesbian nurse? Or is it technically a continuation of the earlier assault? Is this what I have to look forward to for the next seven and a half years? Fuck it. It's not like I have a choice. She has me this close to coming. I might as well enjoy it.

Rosa heard Nurse Jackson's soft footsteps approaching. She sucked air between her teeth anticipating another slick penetration by the nurse's cold fingers. The nurse placed one hand inside Rosa's ass crack and then opened her fingers to spread the prisoner's cheeks. Rosa trembled. Her pussy was dripping an eager invitation to the slick latex digits. Nurse Jackson placed her fingertip against Rosa's anus and pushed it all the way in to the last knuckle.

"Hey! Wha-" Rosa gasped. "That's my ass. Why are you digging around in my ass?"

"I'm completing your examination. Did you forget why you are here?"

"No. No. No no no no no no."

Rosa struggled to get off the table. Nurse Jackson withdrew her finger, took a step backward, and smacked Rosa firmly on her butt cheek.

"Hold still, girl. Don't make me bring in a couple of those big brutes to do this. They won't be as gentle as me."

Rosa paused for a second to consider her options. There was no situation she could envision where she did not end up with at least a finger shoved up her asshole. The best situation was the one where the finger was slender, not very long, and attached to a person not intent on hurting or taking advantage of her. She ceased struggling.