“What's asthma got to do with it? I had a roommate in Chicago who only had one lung, and she used to freebase.”

“I don't know …” Grace said vaguely, “I'm not into that.”

“I'll bet there's a lot of things you haven't tried yet, baby girl.” Brenda laughed again, and Grace walked away with a friendly wave, and then she hurried back to her cell, feeling breathless. She touched the inhaler in her pocket and was reassured to know it was close at hand. Sometimes just knowing that it was there made her breathing easier.

There were movies again that night, and Sally went out again. Her one weakness in life, other than pinups, seemed to be movies. The more violent the better. But Grace hadn't been to one yet, and she was grateful for time alone in her cell after dinner. The room was so small and claustrophobic, but there were times when she was so relieved to be there, and away from everyone, that it actually seemed cozy.

After dinner, their cells were left unlocked unless one requested they be locked up. It allowed for some visiting time for inmates to stop by and see each other, or play games. They played a lot of cards, and a few of them played chess, or Scrabble. It was just understood that from six to nine the cells would be open, and inmates could come and go to various approved locations.

Grace was lying on her bed writing to Molly after dinner that night, and she heard the door open, but didn't bother to look up. She assumed it was Sally, back from the movie, and the other woman didn't say anything when she came in. She rarely did, so Grace thought nothing of the silence, until she sensed a presence next to her, and looked up to find herself staring into Brenda's face. She had uncovered one breast and it was resting on Grace's bunk, and just behind her was another woman.

“Hi, babycakes,” she purred with a smile, caressing her nipple casually, as Grace sat up. The other girl was not quite as tall, but she looked a lot tougher than Brenda. “This is Jane. She wanted to come by and meet you.” But Jane said nothing. She just stared at Grace, as Brenda reached out and stroked Grace's breast this time. Grace tried to move away, and Brenda grabbed her arm and held her firm. It reminded her, for just an instant, of her father, and she could feel her chest tighten. “Want to come out and play?” It was not an invitation, but a command, and she looked like an Amazon as she stood there in all her blond splendor.

“Not really, I … I'm kind of tired.” Grace didn't know what to say to her, and she wasn't old enough or tough enough or savvy enough to prison ways, to know how to ward off Brenda.

“Why don't you come rest at my place for a while? We got another hour till lockdown.”

“I don't think so,” Grace said nervously, feeling her chest get even tighter. “I'd rather not.”

“How polite.” Brenda laughed out loud, and squeezed Grace's breast hard, and then pinched her nipple. “Want to know something, sweetheart? I don't give a shit what you want. You're coming with us.”

“I … I don't think so … I … please …” She didn't want to whine, but it sounded that way even to her own ears, and as she looked at Brenda she suddenly heard a grating sound, and Jane moved closer to them. Grace saw instantly that she had a switchblade concealed in the palm of her hand, and she flashed it at Grace with a menacing expression.

“Ain't that nice?” Brenda smiled. “An engraved invitation from Jane. In fact, she's done a lot of that kind of work. She does some real nice engraving.” This time they both laughed, and Brenda pulled open Grace's shirt and licked her nipple. “Nice, huh? You know, I'd hate to have Jane get excited and want to start doing some engraving right there… you know … sometimes she makes little mistakes, and it could get kind of messy. Okay? So why not hop down off your bunk and come with us? I really think you're gonna like it.” This was what she had feared. This was it. A gang rape using God knows what, and maybe carving her face off with a knife. Nothing in her life had prepared her for this, not even her father.

She was breathless as she hopped off her bunk, still clutching her pen and her letter in her hand. And then, with a smooth gesture, she turned, as though to set it down, and as she did, and left the paper on Sally's bunk, she wrote one small word. Brenda. Maybe it would be too late. And maybe Sally couldn't help her, or wouldn't even want to. But it was all she could do, as she left the cell between Brenda and Jane. She was about as tall as they were, but she looked like a child next to them, and in many ways she was. She knew nothing of women like them.

She was surprised when they didn't take her to their cell, but walked past the gym instead, and then outdoors, as though they wanted to get some air. The guards were watching them, but the guards saw nothing untoward about three women going for a walk outside before lockdown. A lot of the women did that to get some air, or have a smoke, or just relax before they went to bed. And Brenda joked with the guards as they walked by them. Jane stayed close to Grace. The knife in her hand out of sight, but held close to Grace's neck, as she draped an arm casually over her shoulder. They looked like they were friends, and no one seemed to notice Grace's terror.

And once outside, Brenda wandered over to a small shed that Grace had never even noticed. The guards in the tower weren't watching them. There was no danger there, it was just an old shed with no windows they used to store maintenance equipment. Brenda had a key to it, and the moment she opened the door, the threesome disappeared inside. There were four more women in there, leaning against the machinery that was stored, smoking cigarettes, and holding a single flashlight. It was the perfect place for anything they wanted to do to her, even kill her.

“Welcome to our little clubhouse,” Brenda said, laughing at her. “She really wanted to come and play,” Brenda said to the others. “Didn't you, Gracie … oh pretty girl … pretty, pretty girl …” she purred, carefully unbuttoning Grace's shirt, as Grace tried to stop her. If at all possible, they didn't want to leave any signs of damage, like torn clothing, unless of course they really had to. If she forced them to, they could do a lot of damage, and if she was smart, she'd be too afraid to tell anyone who had done it.

Grace felt Jane's knife pressed against her flesh, and her shirt stayed unbuttoned, as Brenda pulled her bra down. “Nice fresh meat, huh, girls?” Everyone laughed and one of the others who'd been waiting there said to hurry the hell up. Lockdown was in less than an hour. They didn't have all night for chrissake.

“God, I hate to rush when I eat,” Brenda said, and everyone in the shed laughed. And then Grace saw two of them come forward with lengths of rope, and a rag. They were going to tie her down and gag her. “Come on, kid. Let's get this show on the road,” one of the older women said. She grabbed an arm, and another woman grabbed another, and Grace was dragged backwards and thrown to the ground so hard it left her breathless. They moved as a single team then. Two women tied her arms to the heavy machines, then they yanked off her pants and her underwear and threw them aside as two more tied her legs, as the last two sat on them, and Jane managed to sit on one leg to keep her knife pressed into Grace's stomach. There was no point in fighting or screaming, and she knew it. They would have killed her. But she could hardly breathe, and as she glanced anxiously toward the inhaler in the pocket of her discarded shirt, Brenda remembered it too. She reached for it, found it, and held it out to Grace tauntingly, but Grace's hands were tied, and Brenda dropped it on the ground next to her, as one of Jane's big boots came forward and stomped it into splinters.

“Sorry, kid.” Brenda smiled mockingly. “Okay? You know the rules of this game?” Brenda asked, tossing her blond hair back over her shoulder, and then standing up to slip off her own pants. “First we do you, and then you do us … one by one … we'll tell you how … and when and where, and just how we like it. And after this,” Brenda growled at her, and bit hard on her nipple, as she rubbed her crotch, “you belong to us. You understand? You come out here whenever we want, as often as we want, with whoever we want, and you do exactly what we tell you to do. You got that? And if you squeal, you little bitch, we cut out your tongue and cut your tits off. You get it? You know, kind of like a mastectomy.” Everyone laughed at her wit, except Grace, who was shaking and wheezing, lying on the cold floor, terrified of what they were going to do to her.

“Why? Why do you have to do this? … you don't need me … please …” She was begging, and they thought it was funny. She was so new, so fresh, so young, and they knew that if they didn't get her, someone else would. It was first come, first served in prison.

“You're gonna be our sweetie, aren't you, Grace?” Brenda said, leaning down slowly to the place where Grace's legs met, as she knelt on the ground in front of her. Grace was naked by then, and Brenda slowly began to lick her. She loved that part, breaking them in, having someone no one else had ever had, turning them on, scaring them, using them, showing them how helpless they were, making them do anything she wanted. She stopped for a minute, and pulled a tiny tube out of the pocket of her jacket. She opened it, and quickly inhaled the white powder, and then ran a tiny bit of it around her gums, and with a single finger she put a little bit on Grace, and licked it off with vigor. “Nice …” Brenda moaned, loving it, feeling Grace with her fingers as the others told her to hurry up. She was shoving her whole hand in then and Grace winced in pain. But the others were complaining. They wanted a turn too. They didn't have all night. This wasn't Brenda's honeymoon. “Maybe it is, you cunt,” she said to one of the girls grumbling at her, “maybe I'll keep her for myself if she's any good.” But Grace was squirming and trying to move away from her, and the relendess prodding of her fist, although she couldn't go far with her legs tied. She wanted to scream, but didn't dare, for fear of Jane's knife. But they hadn't gagged her. They needed her mouth to please them, when they were through with her.