"Now you better act polite," he snapped. "These people in here don't take kindly to disobedience. It'd be a real shame if they had to whip that nice round ass of yours and leave scars on it, now wouldn't it!"

"But I didn't doooo anything!" she moaned.

"Keep complaining and you're gonna be beaten bloody," he said, shaking his head.

He led her in and they went down a concrete hall and stopped at a counter. A huge black woman got up and came to the counter.

"Got a prisoner here for the female section," he said.

The black woman gave Amy a contemptuous look, then took out a big pen and began to write.

"Name!"

"Amy Henderson."

"That's not my name!" Amy cried.

He jerked back hard on her hair and she cried out in pain.

"She's been trying to deny it for weeks. Judge didn't believe her, neither did the jury," he smiled. "Finger prints match up just fine. She's too stupid to know about fingerprints, though."

"Age!"

"Eighteen."

He tugged sharply on her hair to keep her from saying anything more.

"Next of kin!"

"None."

"Crimes."

"Here's the sheet, prostitution, arson, child abuse, drug trafficking. Sentence is twenty years."

Amy moaned and whimpered softly.

"Okay, you can go."

"Bye, bye, baby," Paul said, reaching under her short skirt and squeezing her bare ass.

"Dolores," the black woman said.

A tall, muscular white woman came forward and took Amy by the arm, jerking her down the hall.

"I didn't do anythiiiiiing," Amy sobbed.

"Aw, shut the fuck up," Dolores snapped, smacking the back of her head.

Amy only sobbed louder.

The woman dragged her into a large room and pushed her away. Amy stumbled and then caught herself, hugging herself tightly as she wept.

"Get that off," Dolores said.

"Wha… wha… what!" Amy whimpered.

"Take off your clothes," Dolores glowered.