Thread: El Cereso Prison (Steel Butterfly & Adam)

Joaquin let go of her wrists, and slowly clapped his hands while rolling his eyes. Bravo! The renowned journalist strikes again! he said in a dry, sarcastic voice. Then he grabbed her wrist again and continued their journey. Then I guess there is no need for me to explain to you why this prison is calmer than any other prison in Mexico? I suppose you have already worked out that it's because mister Forrest, the warden, has delegated the task of keeping order inside the prison walls to the only organization that has outsmarted the Mexican government outside the prison walls. He paused to look down at the nude girl. And I assume that I don't need to tell you that the organization is the Juarez cartel? I also take it that you have realized what function you play in all this? he went on. In here, the currency is human flesh. More precisely, female flesh - pussy and ass are the dollars and cents here. The cartel - led by mister Fuentes, or the Boss as people call him - controls the stock of pussy, and therefore we control the prison. Those who mess up don't get to play. And for those who mess up really badly, we have people like Eduardo and Jordn. He sounded like a teacher lecturing a school girl on the working of the Congress. The warden gets order, the Boss gets power, the inmates gets pussy and the guards get to borrow the girls every now and then. Everyone gets happy! He really sounded proud as he explained it all to her, as if the system he described was the very crown achievement of civilization. Isn't it splendid? So simple, but yet so elegant! While speaking, he led her through a pair of double doors into a huge canteen. There were no less than ten rows of long wooden tables, continuously being filled by more and more inmates coming from a long queue to a counter at the left side of the room. They were all carrying bowls with some kind of greyish porridge. At the far end of the room, there was a table placed perpendicular to all the others, like a table of honor at a fancy party. That seemed to be where Joaquin was leading her. Whoever sat at the table they did not have to stand in line to wait for their breakfast. Instead a stark naked girl of afro-american decent, probably around just 20 years of age, was carrying it out for them like a waitress. A pair of high heels in a glittery silver color was the only piece of clothing she had got that Joanne had not, and her nudity did not go unnoticed by the people to whom she handed out the food. For every plate she got a slap on the ass or a squeeze on her breasts as a reward, along with comments along the line of Thanks, Tits!. The name was not without reason, because her tits were truly her most salient feature - they were remarkably round and firm for their large size. But apart from the full breasts, the girls body looked gaunt bordering on the unhealthy. Her shoulder long, lustrously black hair framed a slim face with thick lips painted dark red and a pair of dark brown eyes. Even though she responded to every slap and every comment with a little moan and a giggle, the expression of her face told a different story. Anyone who was not blind could see the tiredness in it and the desperation in her eyes. At the short side of the table, where the chairman would be seated on a board meeting, sat a man who for some reason did not have to endure the same tasteless porridge as the others. In front of him stood a plate with a real breakfast - fried bacon, eggs, toast with jam and peanut butter - together with a glass of beer and a fuming cup of coffee. The mans eating habits was reflected in the shape of his body his arms were like big sacks of fat resting on the table, his neck was nothing but a series of double and triple chins, and were he to stand up he would probably not be able to see his own feet. The lower parts of the arms of his orange overall had been torn off, probably because they could not accommodate the girth of his swollen wrists, and the thick, oily mat of hair that covered his light brown complexion was on full display. His face was round because of his chubby cheeks, and were it not for the overgrown mustache that was hanging down over his mouth with small pieces of egg and bacon fat in it, he would have looked somewhat like a scaled up baby. The fat man did not even look at Joanne as Joaquin led her to his end of the table, and showed with his arm that he expected her to sit down next to the fat blob. Joaquin seated himself on the other side of the table, opposite Joanne. Miss K., may I introduce mister Jos Cruz Fuentes. he said, but the fat mans brown eyes still did not leave the bacon on his plate.