Four inmates were on the exercise equipment, right then. Four is the maximum allowed in there at the same time. Inmates were brought in to exercise for four hour spans, every day. Sometimes there are three or even two inmates per rotation. The jail only had 14 inmates, plus when an inmate gets in bad enough trouble they get put in solitary confinement, and so don't exercise. I always liked the exercise room for two reasons. The first reason I liked it was because it kept the girls in shape. The other reason is that it was a nice, mild torture unto itself.
    
    As an example, the blond, number 001B, was on the cycle. For starters, she was lovely. Her hair was in a golden pony tail, and her bloodshot, blue eyes could be clearly seen. She was slender and firm, yet she had huge tits. I'd guess DD, but I'm really no expert. Because she was exercising, she had on black wrist and foot cuffs, as well as several harnesses. The cuffs kept her hands on the handlebars and her feet on the peddles. She was bound to the machine she was using, as the inmates might otherwise stop without permission. Each girl got a different machine each day, you see. Anyway, one harness was around her chest. It held her breasts very firmly in place, better than a sports bra I'm told. That way, her tits don't get damaged and start to sag. There was still a hole in the front of each pseudo-cup for her areolas and pierced nipples to poke through. She, like all inmates, had her nipples pierced with large hoops through the piercing. The hoops were stainless steel and welded shut. The other harness was a simple waist harness, connected to locks on the seat of the machine so she could not get off of it. Also, another hoop was through her clitoral hood, and it was locked down to the seat so that she couldn't wiggle too much.
    
    The real beauty of the machine was the dildo. It was made out of rounded copper plates, and stuck out of the seat just behind the clitoral piercing lock. It wasn't very long. Maybe four inches, but none of these women had the mobility to get them out anyhow, so it didn't matter. If the women slowed down to below a certain speed, the dildo would give them a steady, increasing electrical shock. If they stopped moving entirely, I heard, the shock would be nearly enough to kill someone. The maintenance guy said that wasn't true, and he's the guy who works with their mechanisms in the first place, so I'm sure that's not true. On a dare, though, I once touched it with my bare hand. I jumped back and shouted, but there wasn't even a mark on my hand.
    
    It was nearing the end of the four hour shift, and it was obvious the blond was getting tired. She was having a hard time continuing to peddle. I waited a few minutes, and she jumped about an inch, which I'm sure wasn't good for her clitoral hood, and then started peddling faster. She was exceptionally sweaty and she seemed to be turning pink all over. On the cycle, she has to maintain a speed of 13 miles an hour. It doesn't seem that fast to me, but you can also adjust the resistance, plus the girls can't stop for four hours! To avoid dehydration over the course of those four hours, each girl is given a feeding tube, except just water drips down it. That's to prevent the girls from trying to tire themselves out and pass out, or whatever (I'm no doctor), by refusing to drink, which I was told one of the first couple inmates tried.
    
    All four girls in the exercise room were in great shape, so I went along my route. I usually linger longer when there's a new girl. They tire easier and it's more exciting to watch them struggle. They haven't been toughened up against the strain, yet. I always thought a good punishment would be to put a girl on one of the machines, then put a bolt or something in the way so they could not use it, thereby shocking them terribly. I was told, though, that's a bad idea. The exercise room is strictly for exercise. We don't want the prisoners to associate that room with pain they cannot immediately work to avoid. It was designed for a more immediate negative reinforcement. The logic doesn't seem sound to me, but the rules are strict. If we tell a girl a rule, they must obey, and we must deliver. If their life seems ruled arbitrarily, they might rebel. At the very least, it would be more difficult to make them submit as well or quickly. For that purpose, strict guidelines are given to them, as well as all us employees. They must be aware of consequences, of their ability to avoid punishment by being obedient. Maybe I think too much. It's not like any of the girls could escape, anyhow.
    
    **
    
    I first heard about the job through an email. At first I assumed it was spam, and deleted it. A few days later, I received a call from a man with a deep voice, but not scary deep. He spoke well and confidently. He, like many other people, had heard about my "poor break" at my old job. You see, I used to work at a different prison. Sometimes, I'd torment a prisoner by using my authority and ability to get around to intimidate and abuse them. I can't say I know why I did it, but I did it none the less. Well, it eventually got me fired. Fortunately, I wasn't caught doing anything I could get prison time for! However, I was caught intimidating prisoners, a few times, and I lost my job. It made the national paper, too. Talk about difficulty finding a job!
    
    The man on the phone me told me that he was in charge of a prison, and that he wanted to interview me for a job. Of course, I was surprised. Not only was it nigh impossible that I would be hired by any prison that does even a bad job of background checks, I hadn't even applied! He assured me my past wasn't going to prevent me from this employment, I simply had do fly out to Rhode Island and fill out some paper work, submit to the standard physical and mental/psychological tests, and we'd see what happened. They even paid for my flight and hotel stay. I thought it was a prank until I called the airport and discovered that, in fact, a round trip had been prepaid for me. Then I was suspicious that... I'm not sure, someone really wanted to kick my ass, or maybe steal my organs and sell them on the black market. Maybe this was being set up by one of the now free inmates I had abused.
    
    Despite my apprehension, I went. I almost didn't. I got to the airport and waited, but I almost left when they announced my flight was being seated. Almost. I showed up at the office building, and it seemed pretty standard. I was interviewed as I would be for any other job. I took a psychological profile test that took all afternoon, then took a physical and peed in the cup and all that razzle, and I was hired. Moving to Rhode Island was no big problem, since I had very few family or friends who still even replied to my hello if I saw them in a store. Plus the new job payed for everything. I got an apartment near the bay, since I had to take a boat ride out to work each day, and I started at my new job
    
    My very first day was strange. I expected the same sort of thing I had known, but this was different. The prison looked typical from the outside, and most of the inside. In my new guard uniform, I first went to the office of my boss, where I was supposed to report in. He was a short but tough looking older gentleman who had the deep voice I remembered. He informed me that this prison wasn't typical. He asked me questions I'd expect from an investigator, or maybe a psychologist. After that, he told me I had the perfect balance of sadism and self-control. I found that difficult to believe, since I lost my last job for having too much sadism and too little self-control, but he said it. He said there was one final hurdle to make the job completely mine. If I passed the test, well, the job was mine. I'd have a contract and everything. If not I'd be sent home, all expenses paid. I thought I was already hired, so I found that strange, but I went along with it. I had to go into the next room over, and stay there for one whole hour. That was it.
    
    Curious and confused, I entered the next room. before I even stepped inside, I paused to double take. The room was white, about the same size as the office I had come from, and well lit, but mostly barren besides another door on the opposite wall. The one thing in the room was a woman. She was completely nude and hairless except for the golden silk atop her head. She had a thick, metal collar around her neck, which was connected to the ceiling by a chain. It forced her to stand upright or choke. Her legs were forced apart by two bars that were put together in the shape of an upside down, capital T. The top of the T, bottom of the bars, were connected to ankle cuffs at each end. The bottom of the T went straight up, into her vagina. I didn't know how far it went in, but it was wide enough to be uncomfortable even if it wasn't in very deep. Her knees were straight, so I guessed it went fairly deep.
    
    The concern and strain that she was showing on her face, however, was due to the large metal weight she was holding. She, like all prisoners here, had the rings through her nipples and clitoral hood, as I already explained. The rings in her nipples were connected to each end of a chain, by locks. The chain went through a hole near the top of the weight she was holding. If she lowered the weight, it would pull on her nipples. If she dropped it, the weight was obviously enough that at least one of her nipples would be lost forever. The weight was almost spherical in shape, making it understandably difficult to continue to grasp. I had the impression she'd have asked me to help her, if not for the cylindrical piece of wood that she was biting down on, which was tied into place and about two inches in diameter.
    
    I looked back to my new boss in confusion. He said, nonchalantly "If you want to go ahead, you can punish her yourself, and I'll have Mr. Hollister do something else. She earned one hundred strokes for minor disobedience. You'll find a whip in the storage room, through that door and on the right."
    
    I entered and shut the door behind me. For a moment, I wondered if I was misled about this test. Perhaps this test was to see if I'd fall into my old habits. I never whipped an inmate before. None of the inmates I've ever been in charge of were women. Mixed prisons, even between staff and inmates, were illegal, so far as I was aware. But I knew that I wanted to whip her. The way she stood there, accepting her miserable place in life... it brought something out of me that I had only partially realized before. I knew I liked to bully people, I knew I liked to inflict pain on others, but I had never before, even by myself, been told it was okay to. Now it would be part of my job? I allowed myself to fall into it.
    
    I approached the girl. She had small scars in many different places, but they were few and matched her regular skin tone nicely. I noticed a tattoo on her neck. It was small and under her left ear. It read "WHORE 005A". She kept her eyes to the floor, so I took in the sight. She, like the other blond I already mentioned, was exceptionally well shaped. She was tone, yet still soft. Her breasts were fairly large, about a C cup. I was simply surprised she was a criminal, to be frank. She looked more like a model. A model that got paid very very well! But there she was, obviously uncomfortable, and no doubt in some pain, standing submissively before someone she knew was going to whip her one hundred times. She was obviously growing tired of holding that weight, yet she had no choice, so she kept on. She was breathing heavily from the exertion, her breasts heaving slowly, and her arms were trembling. Her fingers were red on some places and yellow at some edges, making it appear they had been holding the weight the same way for quite some time.
    
    I felt her thighs, first. I moved my hands up and down her sides, then down her shoulders to her breasts. The chain didn't have a lot of slack, and she made a very faint noise when I lifted each tit. I moved down and around, fondling her tone ass. I told her to look at me. Her eyes slowly moved up to meet mine. I moved a hand around and grabbed the ring in her clitoral hood. I tugged it slightly and she squealed into her gag, but she kept her eyes open and continued looking at me.
    
    "So, you're a whore?" I asked her authoritatively. She nodded softly, scared.
    
    "You want my hard dick inside you?" and she nodded again.
    
    "Was that a lie?" I raised a brow. She hesitated and seemed to become even more afraid, then nodded.
    
    I tugged the ring quickly and raised my voice "No more lying!". She bent, trying to follow the tug, but could not go far, and she squealed onto her gag. A tear left her right eye.
    
    "Fuck you, you piece of filth.", I said, as I released her. She nodded, and I circled around her to go get the whip. The storage room had so many pieces of equipment I won't even try to list them. I was amazed. I spent probably five minutes just trying to fathom what some of the items even did. I found the whip on a rack of whips. I wasn't sure how to choose a nice one for the job, but there was one labeled "WHORE 005A", so figured that was the one to use. When I got back, the girl was still standing in the same place and position, due to being restrained. Nobody was there to chastise me or tell me I had failed the test, yet.
    
    I started slowly. The first stroke was fairly light. She moved slightly and it barely left a pink mark across the small of her back. I figured, just in case this was some sort of trick, I'd continue doing it lightly. By the time I got to 60, the girl had pink lines all over her back and ass, with a few poor shots on her thighs. Her whole body was shaking. I walked around her to see if crying was the reason. No, it seemed she was getting tired holding the weight. It was lower than before, and her tits were being pulled down by it. They weren't taut, but they looked to be uncomfortable.
    
    I was mysteriously frustrated "Have you been whipped before, whore?"
    
    She nodded, so I followed up the question, "Does this hurt as much as when you were whipped before?"
    
    She hesitated again. She seemed to shake a little more violently. Tears started flowing out of her eyes, down her cheeks, off her chin, and onto the weight. She softly shook her head. Fine. I walked back around her, and whipped her hard. She jumped noticeably and squealed with each stroke, and her crying became audible. When I was done, her head was angled so she could face the ground, and she was sobbing freely. She had red and purple marks across her back and ass, with a nice pink background, and one of the lines was even dripping a few drops of blood. I had a strange sense of pride. The strangest part was that I had the hardest boner I had ever had in my entire life. I stopped myself from the idea I had to fuck her ass, just in case, and simply adjusted myself so it wasn't obvious.
    
    I brought the whip with me as I went back into the office. There was another security guard there. He and my new boss applauded me. After that, the other guard was told to go clean the girl up and take her to the dining hall. My boss officially congratulated me on a job well done, and shook my hand. He told me all about the prison. It's built just off of the US border, so there weren't actually any laws. The girls, he said, might be criminals, here for punishment. They might be here for whatever reason their guardian brought them. It didn't matter. The guardians were allowed to see the girls on the weekends. On other days, somebody might pay for a "date" with the girls, using an area of the prison built to resemble a small (and underpopulated) town. All employees could take a girl on a "date" once every 176 work-hours, which is, in theory, once a month. I signed the contract without a second thought. After signing the contract my new boss joked that, yes, I could have fucked her ass, but not to worry about it because there will be plenty of time for that sort of thing in the future.