The lights went out and Tabatha struggled to rest on the floor, anxiety and depression attacking her solitary thoughts as she tossed and turned in straw. She doubted she got much sleep. Lights came on at seven o'clock, although Tabatha didn't know the time as she didn't have a timepiece, but she knew she was tired.
The other cellmates awoke, and again largely ignored Tabatha. Kimber whispered morning to her. In a while guards came round and passed plates of food through a small hole in the bars. Tabatha looked at her food -- a bowl of grey gruel on a plate with a slice of cheap bread and a clunky metal spoon. The other girls wolfed it down regardless of the distaste on their faces, so Tabatha attempted to do the same.
"You eating that?" the big girl with breasts enquired sharply. Before Tabatha could stutter a reply, the big breasted girl pinned her against the plank bed with one arm and took the uneaten slice of bread of Tabatha's plate.
"I'm working outside today, I need that food -- not like you soft-skinned posh bitch," she informed Tabatha as she released her.
"Watch it, Beaulah," the raven-haired girl in full uniform warned the Amazon.
"You can have the rest of the gruel, Keila," Beaulah offered in armistice.
"Okay." To Tabatha's horror, the rest of her food was taken off her. She sensed she should not resist.
***
After breakfast was taken away, Beaulah and Keila were taken away, along with a lot of other prisoners who passed the cell, glancing at the new arrival. Curiously Kimber was still in the cell. When they were left alone, they took the opportunity to sit on the bunks.
"Sorry about Beaulah and Keila," Kimber said.
"It's not your fault," Tabatha replied. She was still upset though.
"Do you mind if I ask why you ended up in this hell?" Kimber kindly asked.
"Lese majesty -- rather not talk about it," Tabatha muttered.
"That's okay."
"Why have they not taken you?" Tabatha asked Kimber.
"It's my day off."
"From what?"
"Work -- they make you work for your keep," Kimber explained. "I'm breaking stones with Beaulah."
"Does everybody just not have Sunday off?"
Kimber laughed. "Everyday's the same -- you get your one day off a week randomly assigned. That's your wash day as well."
They sat in silence for a moment, Tabatha collected her thoughts.
"You do seem quite middle class, if you don't mind me saying," piped up Kimber.
"I am," Tabatha admitted. "I haven't done a day's work in my life."
"Well, if the captain's feeling like a bastard, he would put in you into heavy labour work, like what I'm doing -- hopefully you get the kitchen or laundry." This did not cheer up Tabatha either.
"I would watch out for Beaulah and Keila if I was you, "Kimber continued, "they're both bitches. Beaulah, as you know, is a big bastard, lezzo dyke to put. She was put in here for running an illegal lesbian bordello in the shacks, and word is she physically bullied straight poor girls into joining her troupe. Keila on the other hand is a slimy fish -- she's having an affair with a least one guard, which is tolerated because I hear she's a first rate grass. She's allowed various liberties and I hear she also has some lesbian tendencies."
Tabatha was listening eagerly to this advice, but they were disturbed by a guard opening the door.
"Constable," he gruffly announced, "the captain would like a word." Another guard came in and fastened her wrists behind her back with a light chain whilst the first guard released her ankle. It was now that Tabatha noticed that the guards wore a number of implements on their belts -- what looked like a cattle prod, a leather strap and an extendable black rattan cane. She felt a new pang of fear.
The guards nudged her to stand up, and then led her out the cell with her in between them. Apparently the captain's office was on the top floor, as they went up two flights of stairs. The guards led her through the door what appeared a small office. It was in fact the anteroom to Captain Baxter's office. It was a white room with a small desk situated near the door to Baxter's office. The guards placed her against a wall.
"When you stand to attention your feet should be shoulder-width apart and your hands behind your back," a guard instructed her, "shoulders straight, chest out, eyes cast down." Tabatha shuffled to get in this position, her back against a wall. "Do not move until told to," the guard said and left.
Tabatha was left alone in the anteroom for a few minutes. She did as she was told and did not move from her position -- she sensed that there would be some camera or device waiting to catch her out. After a few minutes, a girl came blustering through the door. What really caught her eye was that this girl was stark naked, with prominent bruising to her breasts and vagina, as well as red welts down her back. She was small, petite with olive skin and short brown hair. She glanced at Tabatha but did not acknowledge her. It was clear she was flustered and stressed. She went over to the desk and went back up to Tabatha.
"Listen, I shouldn't be talking to you and I should already know this," she whispered, "but are you Prisoner Constable?" Tabatha nodded, bemused. The naked girl went back over to the desk and pressed a button on it. It was now that Tabatha realised that there was not a chair at the desk.
"Yes?" came a muffled reply through an intercom.
"Dominus," the girl said while pressing the button, "2859 Constable is here."
"Send her in."
The girl politely knocked on the door and motioned frantically for Tabatha to come over. She opened the door and announced Tabatha as she walked through the door.
"2859 Constable, my master."
Tabatha took up position in front of Baxter's desk, standing to attention as told. The door shut behind her. With her eyes cast down, she couldn't take in much of the room, apart from Baxter sitting behind a large desk and... daylight! Oh, how she had missed that.
"Now then, Constable," Baxter began, "I think we should start this conversation by reminding you that I will consider a lie to a direct question as disrespect to me, and you know what the consequences of that would be."
"Yes sir."
"Now tell me, did my slave speak to you?"
"Slave, sir?"
"Yes, that girl out there is my personally-owned slave. She is under orders not to speak to prisoners so she should have memorised the schedule I showed her this morning."
Now Tabatha understood. But now she was in a conundrum -- betray the poor girl and risk her own harsh punishment for lying or tell the truth. Tabatha guessed that Baxter would probably know the answer and was trying to trick her.
"Yes sir."
Baxter pressed on the buzzer and called the slave in. She flustered through the door and sank to her knees next to where Tabatha was standing to attention.
"Slave, the prisoner here says you talked to her."
"No, Dominus, it's not true!"
"Well, one of you is lying," said Baxter, cruelly amused. "Slave, go outside and I'll sort this out when I've finished interviewing Constable."
"Y-yes Dominus," the slave stammered -- clearly she was under threat of a big punishment -- and closed the door behind her.
Baxter now turned his attention fully to Tabatha.
"So, Constable, you are indeed clear of your terms of imprisonment?"
"Yes sir."
