pissed on and was sure there was nothing the two men could do to her that would compare with the ordeal she had just been through.
The back of the van became quiet again and Vivian lapsed into thinking about her lover, Max. She was more comfortable than she had been since her flight as she lay in the stretcher; this made her memories even more vivid and warm.
Max was always tender and kind, treating her like a woman, giving her every consideration, always trying hard to please her when they made love.
The cold realization of the orgasms she had experienced during her rapes broke into her battered thoughts. She had never equaled the intensity of those climaxes with her lover. Her body had never yielded the way it had under the brutal caresses of the four men in the bleak cell.
Am I a masochist or nymphomaniac? she asked herself, wondering about her ability to derive pleasure from such abusive sources.
The van continued through the light morning traffic of Juarez, the sunrise signaling the prelude to another day of work and play for those who were free.
I wonder how long they're going to keep me in prison? she asked herself, remembering that one of her tormentors had said that she would be sentenced nine years. She shuddered. Nine years seemed like life, a lifetime of confinement for something she hadn't done.
Father will help me, she tried to reassure herself as she looked at her menacing guards. The nagging doubts about her father's morality made it harder than ever to believe that he would do anything at all. In fact, Vivian had trouble dismissing the notion that he might even disown her if it would salvage his integrity and power. After all, it wasn't good publicity for a United States Senator to have his only daughter busted in Mexico for drug smuggling.
The van made a hard turn off the paved road and bumped along over a very rough strip, jostling the occupants of the back around quite a bit.
'I hate this road to the women's prison,' one of the guards complained as he held onto the roof, bracing himself from any further jolts.
The guard's comment about the women's prison told Vivian that her fears were well founded.
What kind of life will I lead at a women's prison? she asked herself. All of her education and upbringing did little to ease the tension she was feeling. What mercy could she hope for at the hands of criminals and sex fiends? Would she be able to stand the strain and anguish of a daily life behind bars? Would the women in the prison be kind to her because she was so young, or would they take advantage of her lack of experience? All of these questions left their own unanswered anxieties.
The van braked to a quick screeching stop, and the guards instantly flung the doors open and jumped out. It took them only a few seconds to unload the girl on the stretcher and move her past a gate made of hurricane fence and topped with barbed wire. They quickly spirited her along a short path and into a large menacing brick building with barred windows.
What an ugly gray fortress, she thought as she entered her new home. It was hard to miss the towers that surrounded the complex. The machine guns in the top of the towers left in plain view of the prisoners served as an obvious psychological deterrent to those that lived inside the cold gray walls.
Vivian was amazed at the dirty run-down conditions that existed on the inside. From where she lay on her stretcher, she could see that the floors were brick and the smell told her that cleaning was not the order of the day. The dark and musty odor frightened the girl more than the memory of her rapes at the hands of the Federal Judicial Police.
The guards at the gate and the door had let the stretcher and its escort pass without more than an idle hello. Vivian was amazed at the number of female guards she saw as they passed through another series of barred gates and hallways, past doors that obviously served as office entrances and into the main receiving point for prisoners, where she was deposited, stretcher and all, in a holding cell. The sound of the metal gate slamming behind her and the turning of the key in the lock was a more than adequate reminder that her position hadn't changed. She was still a prisoner, and subject to the whims of her captors.
For the first time since she had been placed on the stretcher, Vivian sat up and looked carefully about her. Her body ached, in particular her asshole where the electric jolt of the cattle prod had been applied when she passed out. She bravely ignored the pain and looked about the cell in which she was confined. Its zoo-like quality made her want to cry.
Take it easy, she whispered to herself. Now is no time to show weakness.
The cell was about nine feet long and five feet wide, with three solid brick walls and thick iron bars and a hinged, barred gate as the front. The only light came through the bars from the electric bulb that hung over a desk directly in front of the cell.
Vivian watched her two male guards as they joked and talked with the heavy-set female behind the desk. She felt totally helpless as she watched the large woman sign some papers presented by one of the guards. She knew she was being committed to the Mexican prison system, where life meant a little to some, and nothing to most.
Vivian watched with a certain amount of relief as the two Mexican guards departed from her view. They were the first men since she had been arrested that hadn't fucked her or made her commit some other kind of depraved act. At least for now she didn't have to worry about spewing cocks and the sticky cum adhering to her hair and face.
Someone will help me, Vivian thought as she watched the matron rise and walk around the large wooden counter and cross towards her cell.
The matron was a large robust woman with long dark hair which she kept neatly combed and tied in a ponytail. She was the type of woman who filled her uniform well and reminded Vivian a little of her own mother. If anyone would help her, it would be her; it had to be this kind-looking woman.
The matron took a large ring of keys and unlocked the steel door on Vivian's cell, sliding it open with ease. She crossed the threshold and loomed over the girl; her eyes roved the entire length of her charge.
'Get off that stretcher, you smuggling little American slut!' she bellowed. 'Else I'll make you wish you were back in the Procuraduria!'
Vivian jumped at the command and was quickly on her feet, the white hospital jacket flopping open, momentarily revealing her firm tits and blonde pussy hair.
'It looks like the girls in C block are going to get some fresh meat,' the matron leered as she watched Vivian hurriedly try to cover up.
Vivian shuddered at the thought of having to do whatever some lesbian told her to. She knew nothing of what women did to each other except what she had heard in whispered stories at the university.
'Follow me,' the matron commanded as she led the way from the cell.
Vivian did as she was told, following the woman across the hard natural brick floor, past the large wooden desk and back to the section of the building where the offices were. She watched as her guard unlocked the door and turned on a harsh overhead light, revealing a stockroom.
'Take off your hospital jacket,' the matron commanded as she led the girl across the room. 'I want to search you and then give you some clothing and get you put in a cell so I don't have to be bothered with your stinking ass any more.'
'Search me?' Vivian questioned. 'I'm already naked underneath.' She clutched the jacket tightly to her body. She was afraid that the matron wanted to rape her.
'Didn't you hear me?' The matron's voice showed the anger she felt at not being obeyed instantly. 'When I tell you to do something, you do it!' She hissed through her teeth as she moved closer to the girl, clenching her fist.
Vivian responded instantly, dropping the jacket from her body. She hurt already, and she knew that she would only lose if she antagonized her guard. She wanted to hide her charms, her creamy young boobs, from the woman, sensing the pleasure she took in ravishing Vivian's body with her eyes.
'That's better,' the matron said. 'You're going to be in Mexican prisons a long time, so you might as well make up your mind that you have to do as you're told.'
Vivian shuddered. A long time could be years and years. What kind of life could she live in a prison? Would Max wait for her? Would her father help her? So far, being the daughter of a United States Senator had been only
