The guards collectively grumbled.
“It’d be wise to lock down that overzealous piehole of yours, inmate,” the guard to her left said, yanking her arm. “Keep it up and you might get something shoved in there you won’t like.”
“Mmm…that was off-color. I like it,” Sasha quipped. “Been a while since I’ve heard dirty talk. Are you trying to turn me on or intimidate me?”
The guard to Sasha’s immediate right laughed. “I told you, Phil. Don’t even bother with her. This broad is twisted.”
“Aww, thanks, precious. I might’ve been, once upon a time,” Sasha said. “The only thing twisted about me now are my gams, no thanks to you fuck knuckles. All this heaving and hauling has me feeling like a cheap marionette. Alas…if only I could see.”
“I said shut up, inmate,” the left guard said, tugging her into motion again. “Alas, the blindfold stays. Keep pushing your luck and I’ll add a ball gag to the mix, maybe even a leather corset. Both items would certainly agree with your wardrobe.” He chuckled.
Sasha sneered. “Corsets used to be everyday attire for this vintage chassis, clever dick—but only lambskin, anything else is a deal-breaker. And I have a soft spot for chrome rings, straps, buckles, and steel boning.” A pause. “Could one of you jokers at least tell me where we’re going?”
“No, Morticia. We can’t.” The left guard smacked the back of her head. “And shut up…don’t make me tell you again.”
Sasha cringed and expelled a sigh. She knew she’d lost a few pounds, but had she really come to resemble the long-haired, black-dress-wearing brunette of Addams Family fame? She remained skeptical if pride should be taken in the statement. “You hit like a girl, Phillip.”
“It was a warning tap. And you’re fixin’ to get another one.”
“Mmm…please? Don’t make me beg for it.” Sasha grinned. “I love being struck—practically worship the pain…it’s so seductive.”
“Jesus!” the guard on the right blurted. “Phil, I’m telling you, I’ve heard her mouth off a thousand times since she’s been here. She’s downright depraved.”
“Speaking of depraved, my ex-husband used to punch me stupid whenever we made love,” Sasha droned. “If you’ve never tried it, you’re missing out. It’s incredibly erotic. He’d even strangle me comatose sometimes whenever I put him up to it. Climax by means of asphyxiation might be anathema, but it’s soo—”
A vicious backhanded slap to Sasha’s cheek converted her remaining words to a single yelp. She tumbled to the gravel, groaning and coughing as blood seeped from a torn lower lip.
“Damn, Phil!” the right guard cried. “What’s wrong with you? You didn’t have to do that!”
“Someone had to. Bitch was being crude, and I don’t want that shit in my presence. I don’t recognize the value of crudeness.”
“That’s no excuse to hit her!”
“I agree, but I didn’t hit her. She fell.” Phil observed the third guard, who’d been following silently behind. “Did you see me hit her?”
Guard number three looked away, shaking his head. “I didn’t see anything.”
“See? The bitch fell, tripped over her own big feet attached to those unsightly cankles of hers. Shame…looks like she busted her lip pretty good.” He kicked Sasha’s boot. “You should be more careful, inmate. Brush it off and help yourself up. We got places to be.”
Sasha struggled to rise on her own but couldn’t quite manage.
Watching her wriggle about, the guard who’d been escorting her on the right knelt to offer aid. “Easy…let me help you.” He rose with her and brushed her off. “Are you okay? Can you walk?”
Sasha conveyed a broken smile. “Precious, I could dance a fucking jig right now.”
“Um, good to know,” he said awkwardly, examining the fresh gash on her lip, “but we should probably get that cut looked at.”
“Yeah, we probably should, but sadly there’s no time,” Phil the guard said. “It’s less than an hour from breakfast. And she’s late for work.”
“Late for work?” Sasha prompted, her voice raspier than before.
Three guards helping Sasha along, they made their way to their destination. Moving to an indoor setting, they removed her restraints and finally her blindfold.
Sasha blinked a few times and allowed her eyes to adjust to the intensity of the fluorescent lighting. A line of stainless shelved tables stood before her and, on either side, rows of commercial appliances, more tables, cookware, and a griddle. Steam wafted from each end of a commercial dishwasher at the far end of the room. The tile walls were lined with stainless-steel panels that hadn’t been cleaned in a while. The room had all the markings of a commercial kitchen, only not one found in a restaurant. She assumed this to be a cafeteria kitchen in one of the former schools within the campus grounds.
“What do you think of your new digs, inmate?” Phil the guard asked.
Sasha sighed. “Oh, Phil. You really don’t want to know what I think.”
“You’re probably right. That disrespectful tongue of yours might earn you another helping of accidental discipline.” He chuckled, hand outstretched. “Meet your new office. You’ve been designated a work detail. Congratulations.”
“Lovely,” Sasha moaned. “Any reason why this particular one was chosen for me?”
“If you ask me, it’s a perfect fit,” Phil mused, grinning ear to ear now. “One look at you screams sandwich maker. And our dishwasher’s been making funny noises, probably ready to crap out. By the looks of those hands, you’ve scrubbed a few dishes…but almost certainly skimped on the Palmolive. Madge wouldn’t be pleased if she knew.”
The guards collectively snorted.
Busted lip on proud display, Sasha feigned laughter, then sent Phil a devilish smirk. “That’s some funny shit, McCracken. You got jokes. It’s cute. Real cute.”
“Glad you think so. I’ve been working on that delivery,” Phil said, then closed in on her.
