Thread: El Cereso Prison (Steel Butterfly & Adam)

Joanne noticed how her neatly folded hands had remained relatively calm throughout the tense silence the only sign of her nervousness being the cold sweat which had begun to form inside her palms. The scent of the bacon and eggs was familiar - the more intense smell of the hot coffee even more so. It were the only familiar things within these prison walls however and the young woman was well-aware that she would be denied its familiar taste. Perhaps the foods would be available to her, she mused, but there would be a price attached to such precious food. And having heard what this prison's currency was she sincerely doubted that she would be willing to pay its degrading price. Still, it was only when she noticed the pale, almost ghostly face between the legs of the man next to her that she found herself clenching those hands into angry fists. It was not that the Boss's behavior had not upset her the way in which he pointedly ignored her presence, designating her with 'it' and using other, less flattering descriptions as he urged the council man to speak to her instead. The very idea that this had been someone's idea of 'saving her' - which of course, had not been the intent at all - sent a chill throughout her slender body and she instinctively pressed her legs closer against another. Having her lifeless body being thrown into one of Mexico's famous rivers almost sounded merciful now and Joanne was well-aware that this had been the exact intent of the corpulent man next to her why give her such an easy escape when they had a whole prison at their disposal to make her realize her mistake..? Her green eyes followed the girl as she moved to subject El Jefe to her oral skills - or rather, to subject herself to his extremely meaty flesh. Joanne shuddered to think what the girl was dealing with between those fat legs, allowing her gaze to rest upon Joaquin instead. She subtly tried to shift her leg as she felt the girl move against it - already having trouble enough to get the image of the extremely large man out of her mind. She quickly found out that Joaquin was kind enough to provide her with something else to concern her thoughts with her brow furrowing ever so slightly when he mentioned 'testing her endurance'. She was less able to contain her emotion when she realized how these men would test her endurance slight disgust curling her lips downward upon seeing the glasses. Oddly enough, her mind provided her with an answer almost right away. Three hours without shelter. Three days without water. Three weeks without food. Of course, it was not the answer they were looking for, nor the answer Joanne was looking for. Dehydration was an incredibly nasty process and could be drawn out over multiple days if the circumstances were right. Its symptoms were not pretty and the consequences of prolonged dehydration even less so. But nothing was pretty here. Not the circumstances under which she would be engaging herself in this challenge, nor the stakes. She would not find herself in some desert, forced to go without water. No, she would be battling her own pride - knowing that all she would have to do in order to give her body the fluids which it would crave more strongly over time - was give up a part of her dignity. Empty the contents of the sperm-filled glasses in her by then dry mouth. Because of course she would not drink the humiliating mixture of saliva and sperm right away. She was too stubborn for that. Too damn proud. It would also be foolish to give in right away. It would open up the door for even more humiliating assignments. Not that they would necessarily have to wait with those. In the end, her little resistance might not even matter. But right now, it did. To her. Joanne's green eyes met with those of the consejal, ignoring the Boss in the same way as he had ignored her before. She placed her hands upon the edge of the table, gently folding them around its edges as she leaned towards the man. Let's find out, shall we? The smile on her face almost seemed genuine, bordering on pleasant were it not for the fact that her very appearance belied such bold words. Her hair was messy, loose strands over auburn spilling over her shoulders while others hung over her back, tangled with another. Her face was just a tad bit paler than usual her new sleeping arrangements had clearly not provided her with the rest which she needed. Nor had she been fed ever since she had entered the prison and she knew her stomach would overcome its nausea and fear-induced silence. The rest of her body did not fare much better and while her neck was covered with the most obvious injuries - its tender yet swollen flesh displaying a variety of darker colors - there were signs of pain all over her body. Oddly enough, it were the spots which were hidden from view that hurt the most and even the semi-proud stance which she tried to maintain by straightening her back sent bouts of pain throughout her lower abdomen. Still, she maintained the illusion of calm when she removed her hands from the table again, folding them in her lap once again. With a bit of luck, the dehydration would make her as delusional as her unfortunate cell mate within days. Provided he did not strangle her before that, of course. Even that prospect seemed less grim now that Joanne realized just how parched her sour throat was - and how disgusting the contents of the glasses looked.