The two new arrivals were ushered into a large, stark room in which even the frosted windows were painted white. The only colours on the floor were three crimson squares. A table covered with cardboard boxes and envelopes sat near an open door, and an expectant-looking young woman in a grey suit stood behind it. Fluorescent tubes lined the ceiling alongside a slow moving ceiling fan, and some flickered occasionally. The smell of cleaning fluids hung heavily in the air.
Rache slipped into the white medical smock lying on the table, his manner businesslike. 'We will be conducting your processing here,' he said. 'This will involve the confiscation of all contraband items, an examination, disinfecting and the allotment of uniforms and possessions. Understood?'
Singh took over without waiting for a response. 'Right, each of you stand in front of a box. Move it!'
Tiffany and Jude obeyed. The girl behind the table was a fresh-faced redhead, and her eyes were glowing strangely with anticipation.
'You will set your luggage on the tables to be searched before storage,' Singh went on. 'You will then empty your pockets of all items and remove your watches and all jewellery. You will witness them being listed and sealed in the envelopes, and you will sign the appropriate form declaring your witness.'
Tiffany's disbelief afforded her momentary courage. 'Our luggage? Do you mean we won't see any of our possessions until—'
'Until you leave here.' Singh smiled coldly.
She looked to Rache for confirmation. 'But you said you were only taking contraband items.'
'Everything not supplied by us is contraband,' he explained with infuriating simplicity.
Once the girls' bags were searched and security-tagged, and the envelopes were sealed and placed in the boxes, Singh pointed to them and said, 'Lift those and carry them with you to the red squares on the floor behind you.' He moved to stand beside the doctor as they obeyed him. 'Now, remove your clothing and place it in your box.'
There was a pregnant silence, and then Tiffany cried, 'You're not serious?'
'I'm dead serious, Welborne.'
'Take my clothes off in front of you? You're a man.'
'Thank you for reminding me.'
'It's a violation of my civil rights,' she protested desperately.
'Rights you happily signed away to come here,' Rache pointed out patiently.
Panic welled up inside her unchecked. Even after she was arrested all they did was empty her pockets; nothing before or since had prepared her for this. She started towards the door. 'That's it, I'm going!'
Singh was on her in a flash, clutching her wrist and pulling her back. With an easy twist of her arm he had her bent over until she could nearly touch her toes, and with his free hand he smacked her across the bottom, the force of the blow easily penetrating her slacks and panties. Tiffany squealed and struggled as he spanked her again, and again, but to no avail. His punishing hand was hard, steady and swift in its power and rhythm. She felt the shock and pain coursing through her body, suffused with a curious warmth spreading up from her buttocks. It was like the incident in the catacombs weeks before, which she had managed to forget until now.
At last Singh stopped spanking her and let her straighten up. He turned her to face him, and his eyes burned into hers. She could not look away as he said quietly, 'It hasn't quite sunk in yet, has it, Welborne? If you don't obey us, you don't go home to daddy in three years, you go to a real jail. Understood?'
Tiffany felt numb, but she had heard every word, and understood. Unable to sort out the miasma of feelings raging inside her, she nodded mutely.
Singh released her. 'Now return to your square and strip,' he commanded.
She returned to the box, and saw that Jude had already removed her T-shirt, revealing full breasts snugly encased in a white bra.
There was an acutely uncomfortable silence for about a minute, alleviated only by the rustle of clothing being removed. Tiffany was not crying yet, but her eyes felt hot as she carefully deposited her four hundred pound Manolo Blahnik shoes and her eight hundred pound Ralph Lauren suit in the box as if they were charity donations. Yet at the same time a primal sexual thrill rushed through her like an electric charge. Stripping before strangers had always been restricted to the sort of teenage magazine fantasy you laughed at with your mates over a few drinks, now she was actually being forced to do it...
'Stop dawdling, Welborne!' Singh barked.
Tiffany unbuttoned her one hundred pound blue silk blouse, looking over at Jude as she did so. The girl was a pale-skinned, broad-framed Amazon who should have looked imposing, but without the benefit of clothing she seemed smaller. She had one arm draped across her breasts, and her other hand was shielding the copper-haired delta of her pussy.
'Welborne!' Singh barked again, and took a warning step forward.
Tiffany took the less than subtle hint, quickly removing her blouse, which was followed into the box by her blue lace brassiere and matching panties. Then, naked at last, she adopted a pose very similar to Jude's in a vain effort to conceal herself.
Singh made a show of running his eyes up and down her, exacerbating her embarrassment, before looking to Rache. 'Hardly worth the wait, was she?' Then he was all business again. 'Okay, Forrester, you're first. Pick up your box, place it on the table, witness my sealing it, sign the appropriate form, and then stand before the doctor.'
Jude did not hesitate to obey. She stepped forward, revealing a fleshy bottom crowned by two deep dimples. Singh sealed the box and she signed the form, still making an effort to cover herself with her hands.
'Stand with your legs apart, eyes forward, arms over your head,' Rache instructed, slipping on a pair of thin rubber surgical gloves.
Jude hesitated, but a look from Singh spurred her into complying.
Rache circled her slowly, running his hands over every part of her body from her head to her toes, inspecting the soles of her feet and even the skin beneath her pubic curls. And as he did so he made comments about birthmarks, and other distinguishing features of her body, while the girl behind the table took notes on a clipboard. Then he reached out and lifted first one breast and then the other, looking underneath each as Jude gasped but said and did nothing. And as the doctor let her breasts go her nipples began puckering and hardening.
Watching the procedure, a mixture of dread and fascination twisted Tiffany's insides.
Jude continued to blush furiously as Rache checked inside her ears, under her arms, and opened her mouth to run a forefinger around her teeth and gums. Then he ran his gloved fingers through her hair, feeling her scalp. After that there was only one area left to inspect. 'Turn around and touch your toes,' he said.
Weeping silently to herself, Jude obeyed as best she could, crushing her full breasts against her thighs. Tiffany could not actually see Rache's hand penetrating the other girl, but the mere thought excited her. Her pussy was unfathomably warm and moist, and she found herself rubbing her thighs together like greedy hands preparing to count her fortune. Yet she should not feel this way, she should be horribly upset...
'Straighten up, Forrester,' Rache commanded, apparently finished with the examination.
Singh pointed to the open doorway. 'In there you'll be disinfected. If you try to struggle or run off, you will be bound and scrubbed. Once you've showered and dried off, remain where you are.'
Rache waited until Jude had left the room before addressing Tiffany. 'Your turn, Welborne.'
She took her cue, turning several shades of red as she raised her arms over her head, fully revealing herself to the doctor's gaze and touch. He focused intently on her bosom, or rather on the star-shaped birthmark decorating the inner curve of her right breast, a birthmark identical to her mother's. She looked to the girl behind the table for some sympathy, but whatever the other young woman was feeling, it certainly was not sympathy.
Encased in rubber gloves, Rache's hands felt coldly inhuman and sent shivers down her spine, yet all the while the moist heat of her sex was a sweet distraction that made her want to touch herself. Then came the dreaded command to assume the position.
She complied, and felt the doctor lay one hand on her buttocks, and firmly part them while reaching under with his other hand to cup her pubic mound. He squeezed it almost gently, and then his forefinger pierced the aroused lips of her sex, parting them in search of her swollen clitoris.
Tiffany shuddered and nearly toppled over, her blood hopelessly confused about which part of her body to rush to, her head or her vulva. Rache could not fail to notice how aroused she was, how lost she was to his domination, and she desperately quelled the climax building inside her as he probed. Finally, he withdrew his finger and moved up to her bottom's little puckered opening. She caught her breath in disbelief when he penetrated it, thrusting his digit inside her with far more ease and far less discomfort than she would have believed possible, using her own shameful juices as a lubricant.
Then, suddenly, it was all over. 'Straighten up, Miss Welborne.' He broke contact, leaving her feeling strangely empty and unsatisfied. 'Follow Miss Forrester to the next room.' His voice was impersonal as he removed the tight gloves.
Shame added to her frustration, and she covered herself with her hands again as best she could as she left the processing chamber.
The adjacent room was smaller. That was all she had time to notice before two women appeared holding sponges and buckets of a foul-smelling, bubbly pink liquid, and one of them was the ugliest, most menacing woman Tiffany had ever seen in her life. She took Tiffany by the arm and immediately began scrubbing and lathering every inch of her, stopping only to re-soak her sponge. Then she wiped the suds off her face and pushed her away. 'Get going,' she snapped.
There was a running showerhead. The water was ice-cold, and struck Tiffany like a thousand tiny spears. Yet she endured it in order to wash the disinfectant off her skin as quickly as possible. Her body shook with cold and outrage, and her tears were lost in the chilly downpour.
Afterwards she padded over to the other side of the room to a table set before a wall of shelves filled to capacity with cardboard boxes of all sizes. Another young woman stood behind the table. Jude was there, still naked and drying herself off with a thin, barely adequate towel. She looked subdued and defeated yet also oddly invigorated, which was just how Tiffany felt. Jude finished drying herself, and tried to cover as much of her body as possible with the towel, an impossible task given their respective sizes. She did not meet Tiffany's enquiring gaze.
Singh appeared in another doorway, roughly took the wet towels from them and threw them under the table. He then looked Jude over carefully. 'Olivia, size twenty-two, size ten and size forty-B.'
The girl behind the table responded to his words by removing several boxes of varying sizes from the shelves behind her, and placing them in front of Jude. Tiffany understood what was happening, and knowing her own measurements, she was impressed by Singh's accuracy when it was her turn.
'These contain all the clothes you will be wearing during your time here,' Olivia explained, opening the top of one of the boxes and removing some of the items. 'They include sunhats for outdoor work, exercise clothes, boots and trainers, a towel, and one basic toilet kit. You will now be shown how to identity mark your new possessions using the numbers Mr Singh will assign to each of you, and you will be responsible for their security and care. You're advised to put aside as many of the work credits you earn as possible, as you will be paying for any replacements you might need later on, and won't be allowed to borrow off each other.'
'And don't ask for credit,' Singh added.
Tiffany opened one of the boxes and stared down in dismay at the ash-grey garments.
Singh saw the look in her eyes, and grinned. 'It's what everyone's wearing this year, and guaranteed not to go out of fashion for the duration of your sentence. But chin up, how long will that be for you? Three years? A thousand days? Twenty-six thousand hours?'
He was right. How bizarre, she thought, that it had only begun to sink in...