Thread: El Cereso Prison (Steel Butterfly & Adam)

Joanne tried not to stare at the poor human female as her two handlers began 'guiding' her out of the room, almost having to force herself to look in front of her once the sturdy doors had been closed. She drew in a sharp breath, her shocked mind still trying to wrap itself around what she had seen. Her mind vaguely registered that the woman had apparently worked really hard to get herself underneath the man's desk. It made her wonder - fear even - what horrors had caused the barely human female to crave such a degrading position. Instead of allowing herself to continue that train of thought, the former journalist focused her attention on her new surroundings. They approached a door and she offered no resistance as one of the men urged her inside. Her lips curled downwards in disgust as she took in the once-white tiles and worn linoleum as well as the exotic flora which they probably harbored. As if wanting to add to the unclean atmosphere, Joanne heard one of the men make a rather disturbing suggestion. She tried to contain herself, forcing the slight shivers to stay where they were rather than betraying her knowledge of the Spanish language along with her discomfort. Surprisingly enough, the other guard provided her with a somewhat reassuring response and the tense journalist found herself relaxing a bit again. Well, as far as anyone could feel relaxed in her current environment, having witnessed what she had witnessed. Still, the relative freedom which the removal of her cuffs had provided her with, was encouraging. Geraldo's order to undress herself, far less so. Of course, she knew it was procedure. The restriction on civilian clothing, that was. She briefly wondered what kind of outfits this prison offered and felt almost relieved at the idea of wearing something which would obscure her female curves through its loose and shapeless fit. Nonetheless, undressing in front of these two was not at all what she intended. Joanne turned around, facing the two men with what she hoped would at least resemble confidence. Could you please turn around? The journalist would have preferred to request for a female officer but she knew those were rather rare in these places. The rather annoyed tone in which Geraldo had addressed her too, suggested that she only had little leeway. This fact was confirmed when Geraldo simply raised his eyebrow in response, a slight smirk curving his lips. His companion however, seemed less amused and with anger crossing his face, he stepped forward. He brought his body uncomfortably close to her own' and Joanne had to struggle not to step back or show any other hint of fear. She had to raise her head slightly in order to be able to look him in his dark eyes and found that it did not help with her trying to bite back her fear. What part of 'hurry up' don't you understand, senorita ?! He spat, the word 'senorita' barely more than a sneer as his warm breath washed into her face. Joanne flinched but rather than yielding, she opened her mouth in protest Could you perhaps get a female officer then? In the US Her sentence was interrupted by Hugo's hand, hitting her squarely in the face. Stunned by the sudden impact, the woman staggered back, clutching her now fiercely glowing cheek. She was still struggling with the rather humiliating gesture when Geraldo stepped next to his companion, putting a rather firm hand onto the latter's shoulder. She could see the barely contained anger in the eyes of the other man when his colleague grabbed his shoulder, still clutching her burning cheek with sheer disbelief herself. I suggest you get it over with, miss K. The cold voice of Hugo drew the woman's attention away from his companion. Unless you wish for him to assist you. The smile which had appeared as Hugo spoke these words was everything but kind, its cold unpleasantness sending a shiver down Joanne's spine. This time, she yielded. Very well, she managed, finally letting go of her fiery red cheek - the red stains indicating that the whole situation was considered not even close to 'well' by the woman. Squaring her shoulders in an attempt to muster confidence, she turned away from the men. She would not show them the quiet horror which was still upon her rather shocked face as she finally began undressing herself - the movements hesitant but not overly slow out of fear for any 'help'. Her 'civilian clothing' had not been anything special a pair of snug jeans, a plain white t-shirt and equally simple undergarments. She had taken very little fancy-looking outfits on her little undercover-trip to Mexico, favoring the plain and unremarkable kind of clothing during her interviews. Joanne felt incredibly reluctant to part with the clothing. It felt as if she was leaving yet another part of herself outside these prison walls and despite her brave anger, a part of her worried if she would ever be able to retrieve them. Still, in the end she found herself stripped bare - her back towards her two handlers in a sad attempt at modesty. Joanne's shed clothing had revealed a fairly slender figure, the softness of her gentle curves belying the cruelty of the crimes she had been charged with. Her skin was fairly light in comparison to those of her two 'handlers'. Her creamy skin was unblemished safe for a few light bruises near her wrists and arms - both of which were thanks to the hospitality from some of the more insisting Mexican officers. And of course, the vaguely outlines a hand, staining her left cheek with red. I am done, she plainly stated, as if not realizing how superfluous the statement was. Even as she tried to compose herself - succeeding somewhat - she felt a slight shiver running down her spine, feeling not at all comfortable in her current state. Joanne tried to ignore her slightly glowing cheeks as she crossed one of her arms in front of her - praying that they would get over this part quickly indeed.