Stewart had always been a successful manager of the firm at which he worked.

Unfortunately his manner of dealing with the female staff left, in their opinion, much to be desired. His attitude led to his downfall when new laws were introduced against sexual harassment. Female sexual harassment that is. Within days of the new law being on the books the 38-year-old Stewart was brought before the magistrates on a charge concocted by a group of females who worked for him. All the evidence was there of "inappropriate touching", "lewd comments" and "suggestive behaviour". The Lady Magistrate took only minutes to find him guilty and sentence him to six months correctional training. Interestingly, the new laws permitted sentencing him to serve the time in a women's jail where it was felt that he would be under the closest supervision of the sex that he had offended against.

He was transferred the Female Correctional Facility under the escort of two young uniformed policewomen. The driver, the elder of the two, was around 24 tall and slim with her dark hair in a severe bun. The other was a bubbly fair-haired girl of around 20 with a full figure. She sat in the back next to Stewart who had his hands uncomfortably handcuffed behind him.

30 minutes into the drive he complained that his restraints were uncomfortable. He was told to lean forward against the safety belt, the escort next to him reached behind his back, and hit down on the ratchet of the 'cuffs with her hand so that they tightened appreciably.

"When we require any comment by you...we will let you know. In the meantime shut-up" she snapped and pushed Stewart back against the seat.

During the drive he learned much of the methods in use at the facility, from the conversation between the two guards. He had of course read in the papers and seen on the TV news about the newly established female correctional centres with the rigorous regimes. Somehow, the fact that Spartan conditions, rigorous military style discipline and corporal punishment were the techniques employed in the new jails had hardly interested him, but now, to his horror, he was about to experience the new system himself.

The two policewomen discussed how the initial recruitment of the wardresses had been from the military correctional facilities. Females up to the age of forty years with experience of inflicting harsh discipline, marching drill, forced PT, clothing inspections, room inspections and body searches were selected and given further training in all aspects corporal punishment. They then recruited younger staff from the age of 18 years and trained them in the skills they would need. All were given ranks, from Junior Wardress and Senior Wardress to that of Chief Wardress and the top rank of Governor. The Governor did not wear the dark grey uniform of hat, jacket with rank bars, short pleated skirt and knee boots. Instead she preferred a business suit. It seemed that the object of the centre was to teach total obedience to authority and the inmates were specially selected from those females aged between 19 and 45 who were sentenced to jail terms for offences that involved any lack of respect to the authorities.

Stewart heard how the rules that were laid down were deliberately numerous and detailed to provide a challenge to the inmates and ample scope to the staff to find fault. Dress regulations alone took up two pages of small print. For every subject on the training syllabus and every event in the day at the centre the prisoners clothing was stipulated down to the smallest detail. The type and colour of the girl's bra and panties, which skirt, type of blouse, bare legs or stockings, footwear, cleanliness and condition of clothing and so on. The policewoman who was driving said how on her last visit she had witnessed 20 female prisoners undergoing physical training. They were all wearing just a simple white vest, short white skirt with small white bikini panties underneath and trainers.

One of the junior wardresses was in charge giving the orders. After only ten minutes most of the inmates were gasping and sweating heavily. She even began to feel sorry for the girls particularly those with the larger breasts, as when exercises were performed such as star jumps, it was obvious that brassieres were not the required dress for this lesson!

"And, after 40 minutes of that, just imagine the average female trying to pass a cleanliness check on the panties" she concluded.

The other policewoman, a large breasted female herself, shuddered at the news, then, more to comfort herself said that they only had themselves to blame and no one expected it to be a holiday camp. The other guard agreed and said that the last rule listed under "Dress Regulations" stated quite clearly that any wardress could at any time carry out a spot check of a prisoner for both correctness of dress and cleanliness of underwear.... and was only to be expected at a military style facility. If the prisoner couldn't follow those instructions what could they follow? Then added with a giggle that on a hot day like this sitting for hours on a leather car seat, she might herself have a problem passing a panty inspection even without 40 minutes punishment PT under some bossy eighteen year old bitch!

"What happens when one of the prisoners fails a panty inspection?" the younger girl asked, "I suppose they get extra work or something?"

"You must be joking " replied the other policewoman " They are charged with the offence, brought before a disciplinary committee and sentenced to a thrashing...usually with a strap across their naked buttocks".

"Good grief" she retorted with a gasp "What happens if they commit a serious offence against the rules?"

"What do you mean by serious?" asked the driver "In having dirty underwear they have already disobeyed one order. From what I have been told they have an ascending scale of punishments that include formal thrashings with the cane... so I suppose a dose of the strap is regarded there as pretty minor ".

 

About two hours from starting out they pulled into on the large motorway service areas for a toilet break. The policewoman driving had mentioned her fear of having a prisoner escape custody and the repercussions that would follow.

Both had decided not to let "This bastard" out of their sight. The policewomen slipped their batons back in to their belt loops, placed their uniform hats on their heads and led the handcuffed male passed the restaurant area and a 'bus load of jeering school girls and into an empty disabled toilet that could easily accommodate the three of them.

"You go first", said the younger of the two guards. She then roughly turned Stewart to face the door, drew her baton out of the loop on her belt and pressed it across the back of his neck forcing his face against the white wall tiles. He heard the sounds of a skirt being raised and then of panties being lowered followed by the quiet hiss of a bladder being relieved. Following the sound of the toilet paper dispenser being pulled, the sounds then reversed themselves.

He had no idea of how much longer the drive would take and the sounds of running water made his own bladder feel even fuller."Ppplease Miss" he stuttered. "May I be allowed to relieve myself ?".

"For heaven's sake man can't you hold on for another two hours?" said the driver poking him in the back with the end of her baton.

"Better not risk it" commented the other guard. "We certainly don't want him wetting himself.... have you got the gloves ?" The driver searched in her handbag and handed over a pair of latex surgical gloves to her companion.

"Stand still, and don't you dare move" she said. With one guard holding his handcuffed arms the other unzipped his flies undid his belt and pushed his trousers down to his knees. She then snatched his pants down and casually caught hold of his penis using it to pull him over to the pan. She used both hands, one holding his foreskin, the other round his testicles. Savagely she shoved his foreskin fully back and pointed the tip towards the target. "Get on with it then" she said. Blushing scarlet, Stewart relaxed and the urine flowed. When he had finished the pants were pulled up and then his trousers. When the belt and flies had been fastened the guard removed her gloves and threw them in the bin.

The driver, having relieved herself first offered to collect sandwiches for the rest of the journey. The younger guard unlocked Stewart's handcuffs, pulled him over to the disabled rails around the toilet then handcuffed him to the lower rail with his back to the pan, with him half squatting to take the strain off his sore wrists. She locked the door behind her departing colleague and calmly proceeded to use the toilet for all the world as if Stewart was merely a dog chained to the rail. The sounds indicated to Stewart that it was more than the girl's bladder that was needing relief. In his cramped and low position it was only seconds before his nostrils confirmed what his ears had told him.

The toilet paper dispenser finally stopped rattling and the girl stood up, arranging her clothes. As soon as she had washed her hands she disconnected Stewart from the rails, quickly refastening the handcuffs and led him outside where the other girl was waiting.

"Sorry I took so long in there " she laughed "That curry I had last night finally caught up with me, you were lucky to be out of the toilet doing the shopping!". Batons swinging and metallic equipment rattling on their belts they led Stewart back to the car, each holding one arm up just below the elbow in a fierce uncomfortable grip. As they settled in the car Stewart failed to move fully to his side of the rear seat. The young girl calmly drew her baton and rapped him hard across the knee with the words "Move it, it's bad enough having to sit next to scum like you without having your knee touch mine!".

Knee and wrists throbbing, the journey continued.