Paul Gable: Stripped and whipped

"You'll sleep in here, even with all the money you think you've got."

The words were sharp, uncompromising, shattering. Lisa Eldridge clung to her black and white suitcase, her fingers turning while she stared at the bleak cell. She knew it was real. She knew she would be here for at least six months until a parole board heard her case once more. Still it all seemed like a horrible, horrible dream to the blonde teen, her world of parties and the good life shattered by a careless, mindless drunken driving accident.

"And you won't have a chance to do the things you normally do with boys," the tall, slender matron said, her thin lips curling up into a wry smile.

"Wh-what?" Lisa realized she was being addressed.

"Fucking. We all know that's what rich little girls like you do, besides drinking, which is obviously why you're here," she said, arching her eyebrows while looking down at the teen coolly.

Lisa felt the coolness between the two of them. Anna Beddingfield, the matron in charge of her floor, was hostile toward her from the beginning. The way she eyed her made Lisa cringe and draw more inside her clothes. All those prison stories she'd seen on TV, she thought, were real.

"I never…"

Anna raised her hand to stop her. She backed away from the room to let Lisa enter, barely brushing her fingertips over the girl's ass as she passed. Lisa nearly yelped, but managed to swallow her surprise and fear.

"You'll find the uniform in the top drawer. All girls wear the uniform until they're discharged," Anna said in a business-like tone, folding her long bony fingers over one another. "You'll change and be ready to meet the matron in twenty minutes. All girls meet the head matron at the start. I think you'll find the experience most – educational!"

With that Anna stepped from the room, her black heels clacking against the brightly polished tiles of the first floor.

Lisa could have sat down on the narrow bunk and wept. It wasn't her fault. None of it was. She wasn't behind the wheel. She hadn't even gone in and bought the bottle. But her parents had been so horrified, they felt a stay in a place like this would straighten her out, as her father had coldly told to the judge. Straighten out? Hadn't they looked at this so-called halfway house before they'd committed her? The outside reminded Lisa of an eighteenth century mansion – all gray stone with high, narrow windows. The grounds in front were well kept, edged with tall, graceful trees, and small round islands of brightly colored flowers broke up the manicured green of the sloping lawn. It was, all in all, rather pleasant, until you stood at the front steps. Then the enormity of the building and its stony severity chilled you to the bone. All the gardens, trees and grass didn't cover the horrid nastiness that seemed to waft from the building.

Lisa sniffed, putting her small suitcase down next to the wooden nightstand and turning to the small bureau to her right. Pulling open the top drawer, she saw the shapeless gray uniform the matron had been talking about. Lisa felt as if she were in prison. Reform? There was nothing else, she saw only fear and a severity that made her flesh crawl.

"Oh God, please help me!" she whispered, saying a little prayer as she shrugged off her blouse and skirt, folding them up carefully and pulling out the gray thing tossed into the drawer. "How could this – have happened?"

Lisa whispered the question as she slipped the gown over her head, straightening it as best she could. In the hall, she heard several footsteps shuffle past her locked door. Stiffening, Lisa thought it might be that dreadful Anna coining for her. Nothing. Relaxing once more, she sat on the edge of her tiny cot, wondering what they would do to her here at the school, and if she would survive.

"Good! You're ready. Come this way."

The door had shot open and slammed against the wall with the sound of an exploding pistol. Lisa jumped from the bed, feeling Anna's fingers grip her upper arm and pull her away from her bed. The matron nearly flung her into the hall, closing the door behind them, then pushing the blonde teen roughly forward. Lisa shrank away from the couch, keeping her eyes lowered while quickly moving in the direction Anna indicated.

They walked for what seemed like miles. At times, Lisa caught sight of another girl or two being ushered down the long, polished hall. But she didn't dare look up until they stopped in front of a large oak door. Anna rapped lightly with her knuckles, then opened it and pushed Lisa into a large, dimly lit room.

"What is this? This isn't an office!"

There was no furniture, no rug. There were no paintings, nothing that would suggest an office. But there were plenty of large, frightening-looking things hanging on the wall, things that made the girl's blood freeze in her veins. Whips, riding crops, prods, bridles, bits, Lisa recognized many of these things from all the horseback riding lessons she had taken before all the trouble had started at home.

She wheeled around, staring at the matron behind her. Anna was grinning widely, her fingers working against one another as her eyes skipped from one instrument of torture to another.

"This isn't – what are you going to do to me?"

Lisa's body shivered as she backed away. Anna was now looking far taller and more cruel than she ever had. Throwing her slender arms around her body, the blonde teen looked around her wildly. Surely there had to be some escape path, some way she could get out of here! Dashing to one side, Lisa rushed to the door, hammering her fists on it and shouting for help. In an instant, she felt Anna's fingers gripping her elbows, the digits feeling like steel bands cutting into her flesh. The matron pulled Lisa around and brought the back of her right hand hard against the girl's cheek.

"Uhhhh!"

Lisa's head snapped back as she fell to the floor, the room spinning. Crumpled on the floor, Lisa cowered back, dragging her body away from the matron. Stretching one hand above her head, the teen tried to reach the door once more. Surely someone would hear her and would rescue her from this madwoman. But Anna was following her, a hellish grin on her face, her fingers clenched into fists as she brought one leg back and snapped it forward, burying the toe of her black shoes into the girl's right side.

"Ooooffff!"

Lisa jerked, bringing her knees up to her chin and rolling onto her other side. Anna followed her, shouting obscenities at her, kicking her in the ass, in the sides again, and telling the girl she was no more than a thieving, drunken whore.

"No, no, I'm not!" Lisa shouted back, trying to cover herself and protect herself from the horrid rain of pounding blows.

She was on her stomach now, crawling away from the door, the hair in her eyes partially blinding her as she tried to drag herself away from the matron. At last the beating stopped. Her tummy and shoulders hurt from all the blows. Quietly, she drew her elbows to her sides, hugging herself and trying to sink from sight.

Anna pursued her, grabbing hold of her long blonde hair and pulling the teen up from the floor.

"Uhhhh!"

Lisa's eyelids fluttered as she felt the tearing pain race through her scalp. She could feel several strands of hair ripping from her flesh as she jerked her hands back and began pounding her fists against the offending fingers.

Anna ignored her, pulling the shrieking teen back from one end of the room. Lisa sobbed, tears blinding her. Anna let her go, kicking her once again in the ribs, then bending over her until her face was nearly pushed into her nose.

"You're nothing but a little slut! That's why you're here, and that's the way you'll be treated! Now get up! Now!"