LINDA'S LABOR DAY LESSON  

                               by 

                            Joe Doe


LINDA LEARNS WHY THEY CALL IT "LABOR DAY" WHEN SHE ENCOUNTERS A 
PRISON GUARD IN THE LOCKER ROOM OF HER LOCAL HEALTH CLUB.
  


"Hello, Senator.  Remember me?"

Linda Franklin looked up from her grim exercise routine on the 
rowing machine to see a lean, hard woman with greasy, slicked-back 
hair looming above her.  Momentarily startled, she gazed up at the 
woman blankly.  

It was Friday night, and the long Labor Day weekend was just 
beginning.  Linda wanted to exercise at the club and go home, 
not make new friends. 

"It's okay if you don't remember me," the woman said, continuing 
on.  "My name is Stevie Randa, and I met you at the prison today.  
I'm in charge of reception." 

Linda blushed slightly at the memory, but kept rowing.  During her 
"fact-finding" visit to the women's prison, she had specifically 
asked to see the reception area where the new prisoners were 
processed.  She was visibly disappointed that there were no new 
arrivals scheduled, but she had passed the time by asking Stevie 
numerous and detailed questions about the processing procedure.  
Which room were the women required to strip in?  Were they stripped 
naked?  Did they strip totally, absolutely naked?  How many women 
were processed at once?  Did they all strip at once?  How many 
guards were present?  Did all the guards watch the women strip, or 
did they just chat among themselves?  Did any of the women blush?  
Did the male guards ever watch?   

Were the women given their cavity searches before or after they 
showered?  Which cavities were searched, and in what order?  What 
happened if a woman resisted?  Did the guards wear rubber gloves 
when they searched the prisoners or just "pinky protectors"?  Did 
they wash their hands between searches?  How much lubricant did 
they use for the vaginal search?  Did the rectal exams require 
more or less lubricant?  Did the new inmates ever cry?  Had she 
ever searched someone she had known "on the outside," and, if so, 
what was it like ordering her to bend over for a cavity search? 

Were the rumors the male guards watched through the video monitors 
really true?  How long was it before a naked female inmate was 
given clothes? 

At first, Stevie had been surprised that the obviously wealthy 
woman in the crisp blue power suit was asking so many questions.  
But, as the questions became more graphic and detailed, Stevie had 
begun to understand.  The lovely senator was what the guards 
referred to as "a prison groupie," a woman turned on by the power 
games and humiliations of daily prison life.  The senator's 
particular fascination seemed to be strip searches, although 
she also displayed a keen interest in humiliating details about the 
chain gang.  After all, it was Linda’s tough new crime bill that 
had made the female chain gangs legal. 

Stevie realized the snooty senator was slumming for cheap thrills.  
It was ironic that she had timed her visit for the Friday before 
Labor Day, Stevie thought, since it was obvious that the rich, 
spoiled woman had never really worked a day in her life. 

At first, Linda's tough persona made Stevie think that Linda might 
be a butch lesbian like she was.  But, when Linda began to blush 
and stammer as Stevie described the cavity searches, the guard 
realized that she had a true submissive on her hands. 

The pretty senator would make some con a fine bitch. 

Stevie knew the type well.  Wealthy VIPs like Linda would strut 
through the prison like they were visiting the zoo, delighting in 
the putrid smells and foul treatment that the female inmates 
received.  Like Linda, none of them had ever done a day of manual 
labor in their lives, and so they were fascinated by the tales of 
women forced to slave away under the broiling sun. 

Stevie had talked to Linda for only a few minutes, but, as a 
seasoned prison guard, she was able to read the senator perfectly.   

Linda had arranged the visit to the prison in order to boost her 
image after she had successfully busted up the pathetic union the 
prison guards were trying to organize.   

The state senator may have been a beautiful woman, but, when it 
came to matters of finance, she was as tough as nails.  The guards' 
pleas for riot gear, better training, and better security had been 
dismissed as "pork," and she had squelched their attempts to get a 
raise by warning the guards that, if they tried to unionize, they 
would be living in a prison instead of running one. 

Stevie recognized Linda from her TV appearances, and the senator's 
union-busting gave Stevie one more reason to teach the pampered 
bitch a lesson.  When she saw the senator working out at the 
health club, she had immediately struck up a conversation. 

Linda was standoffish at first, but, when she saw that the prison 
guard wasn't there to harass her about a pay raise or ask her for 
anything, she warmed up.  As expected, Linda soon worked the 
subject back to strip searches and once again expressed her 
disappointment that she wasn't able to see what a real prison 
strip search was like. 

Stevie smiled indulgently.  "If you want to see what a strip search 
is REALLY like, then meet me in the locker room when you've 
finished working out."  Stevie winked as she left.  

Stevie lost no time in getting out of her exercise clothes and 
changing back into her matron’s uniform.  As she had expected, 
Linda soon followed her, but Stevie hid in a stall while the 
senator prowled the room. 

The upscale locker room had ten separate shower stalls, each 
equipped with a private changing area.  The swinging doors in 
front of each stall allowed modest women to save themselves the 
indignity of having to change or shower in front of spectators. 

The senator carefully closed the privacy door before she started 
to disrobe.  Stevie smiled.  In prison there were no privacy doors. 

Stevie waited for the senator to slip off her panties before 
emerging from her hiding place and striding across the locker 
room.  Linda’s eyes went wide when she saw the uniformed matron 
coming towards her.  Although Linda was behind the privacy door, 
she knew that if Stevie (who must have been nearly 5'10") walked 
right up to the door, she would easily be able to see over the top.   
And Linda was butt naked! 

She desperately tried to find her towel.  Stevie was moving in 
fast, and she had only a few seconds....   

"Hello, Senator," Stevie said, brightly, as Linda struggled to wrap 
her naked body in the towel and knot it above her breasts.  "My, we 
ARE looking fit today, aren't we?" Stevie teased, running her eyes 
up and down Linda's bare legs. 

"Would you mind if I see your jacket, Senator?"  Stevie asked the 
question, but didn't bother to wait for the answer.  Linda shrank 
back as Stevie reached over the door and plucked the expensive 
jacket off the hook. 

Stevie examined the fancy designer label carefully and then neatly 
folded the jacket over her arm.  "Do you still want to find out 
what it's like to be admitted to prison, Senator?" she asked. 

Linda stood silently for several seconds.  She knew that she 
ought not do this, and that she was about to cross a line that 
she shouldn't.  But the visit to the prison had left her hot and 
excited, and the conversation with the butch prison guard had 
pushed her even closer to the edge. 

"Yes, ma’am," she answered.  She paused, looking down nervously 
down at her bare feet.  "I want you to show me the whole procedure, 
from beginning to end." 

"Well, then, I think you had better turn over the rest of your 
clothes, Linda.  Your suit is lovely; it's too bad they don't let 
you wear civvies in the joint.  NOW, HAND IT OVER!" 

Linda quickly gathered up her carefully folded clothes and gingerly 
handed them to the grinning lesbian.  Stevie took the clothes and 
the Gucci purse and casually tossed them into a nearby locker.  
Then she slammed the locker door shut and secured it with a small 
padlock.  Linda winced as she heard the lock click shut. 

Stevie purposefully returned to the stall, removing the baton from 
her belt.  It had taken only a few seconds for her to take away 
Linda's clothes and identity. 

From the look on Stevie's face, Linda knew that her pride was next. 

Stevie roughly opened the door and grabbed Linda by the wrist, 
pulling her out into the locker room.  "Okay, fish, move it.  
This shower room is reserved for LADIES.  We have another room 
for processing trash like you!" 

Linda was dressed in nothing but a towel, and she resisted when 
Stevie pushed her out of the locker room and into the hallway.  
Stevie had her by the scruff of the neck, and she had no trouble 
pushing the stumbling, nearly naked, barefoot senator down the hall. 

To her horror, Linda saw two well-dressed women walking down the 
hall towards them.  She blushed crimson as the passing women 
commented on her predicament: 

"It looks like they've caught the little thief that's been stealing 
from the locker room," the first woman said.  "I hope they give it 
to her up the butt at the police station." 

"Don't worry, they will," the second woman replied.  "The little 
slut deserves it anyway for running around wearing nothing but a 
towel."   

"Filthy WHORE!" the first woman hissed. 

Linda clung desperately to her towel and was relieved when Stevie 
pushed her out of the hallway and into a TINY washroom in a corner 
of the building. 

The room had a small tub and an industrial washer and dryer used 
for laundering gym towels.  The grim, dim room was lit by single 
bare bulb.  The single dingy window was barred. 

It wasn't exactly prison, but it was close. 

"I'm glad I found you here on LABOR DAY, fish!" Stevie taunted.  
"Union-busting bitches like you don't know what it means to be a 
blue collar working stiff.  You sit in an office all day, counting 
your money, while people like me sweat your fortunes for you.  
Well, this weekend, sister, you're going to learn why they call it 
'LABOR DAY,' and what it feels like to be on the other side of the 
desk." 

Stevie pushed Linda toward a dirty shower stall in the rear of the 
room.  "It's time to wash the STINK off of you!" she barked.  "Into 
the shower!"
    
Linda tried to resist as Stevie pushed her towards the stall.  
"Please don’t.  It's...filthy!  At least let me rinse it out 
and hang up a shower curtain first." 

"No time for that, Princess," Stevie growled.  "I have a schedule 
to keep."
  
She grabbed Linda’s towel from behind and, with a single swift 
motion, rudely ripped it away.  Linda's hands immediately flew to 
cover her exposed privates.  Stevie threw the towel into a corner 
and then turned her attention back to her naked, blushing prisoner. 

"All right, Princess, time for a scrub-down.  I want to see soap 
and water EVERYWHERE, or I'll get a scrub brush and do it myself." 

She gave Linda a sharp slap on the buttocks, and the humiliated 
senator obediently scampered into the shower.  Stevie turned on 
the water and chuckled as Linda jumped away from the frigid spray.  
Hot water was a luxury not meant for little jailbirds. 

"Now get busy, girlie, or I'll show you how it's done," Stevie 
said, casually tossing Linda a bar of coarse soap.  Unfortunately 
Linda still had her back towards the grinning guard, and, when she 
tried to catch the soap, she missed.   

Stevie let out a low wolf whistle as Linda bent over to pick up the 
soap.  "The bull cons are going to love that sweet little ass of 
yours, Princess," she snickered.  "I know I sure do!" 

Linda reluctantly began to scrub her back and legs.  She had just 
started to soap her breasts when Stevie gruffly ordered her to 
"turn around and face front." 

Linda hesitated.  She was bare naked, and Stevie was only a few 
feet away.  If she turned around, the lesbian guard would see 
EVERYTHING! 

"I said, 'TURN AROUND'!" Stevie snapped.  "I need to watch 
you...for security reasons.  Show me your goodies, or I’ll get 
the scrub brush and scour out that dirty little hole myself." 

Stevie let out another wolf whistle as the humiliated senator 
slowly turned around and exposed herself for the guard's 
humiliating appraisal.  "Nice titties, fish," Stevie said.  
"Some of the cons like 'em big and floppy, but I prefer small, 
firm ones like yours.  Is that little 'governmental lock box' 
of yours nice and tight, too?" 

Linda felt deeply, totally degraded, and part of her wanted to 
finish the shower as quickly as possible.  But she was also more 
sexually excited than she had ever been in her life, and she 
eagerly obeyed as Stevie directed her through the rest of her 
shower with command after humiliating command:  

"Wash the bottoms of your feet!

"Between your toes!

"Now turn your ass around!

"Scrub your back!   

"Quit dawdling!

"Now scrub your butt!

"Between your cheeks, fish.  I want that asshole squeaky clean.

"Now turn around and soap up those titties for me!" 

When Stevie turned off the water, Linda scurried across the room 
and eagerly reached for the uniform that Stevie had laid out -- 
orange running shorts and a tiny tube top with the word "PRISONER" 
stenciled across the front.  The costume was brief and humiliating, 
but it was something to cover up with. 

Linda's hand was almost on the orange shorts when she felt Stevie's 
iron grip around her wrist.   

"What do you think you're doing?" Stevie barked. 

"I-I wanted to get dressed, please, Officer," Linda said, meekly. 

"Not so fast, honey buns.  Officer Stevie still has to search you.  
I can't have a little slut like you smuggling contraband into my 
fine facility." 

"I...don't have any drugs," Linda protested, weakly. 

"Well, then you won't mind if I take a little look, will you?"    

In fact, Linda minded very much, and she watched in horror as 
Stevie reached into the small gym bag she had stashed in a corner.  
Stevie held up the glove for Linda's inspection and then playfully 
SNAPPED it onto her hand.    

Stevie regarded the blushing, half-crouching Linda, who was 
desperately trying to use her hands to cover herself.  For the 
moment, the guard ignored the futile attempt at modesty and began 
to run her fingers through Linda's beautiful hair. 

"I search them everywhere...hair, ears, nose, and throat.  There's 
just no telling where the little whores might be hiding something!" 

Stevie took a small flashlight out of her pocket and checked 
Linda's nostrils and ears.  She then used her gloved hand and 
the penlight to rudely examine Linda's mouth, roughly ordering 
the gagging senator to "lift up your tongue and move it all 
around" and "open your trap wider." 

When she was done with that, Stevie held up a small tube of 
lubricant.  "You know what comes next, don't you, Linda?" she 
asked, with a cruel smile. 

Linda's thighs instinctively tightened as the butch lesbian slowly 
greased her long, gloved middle finger.  "I like to use really 
thin latex, so I can get a really good FEEL," she snickered as 
she held up her middle finger...and wiggled it in front of Linda's 
face.    

"Okay, sweet-cheeks, ASSUME THE POSITION!" 

Linda once again felt Stevie's hand on the back of her neck, 
pushing her down hard, until her hands were almost touching her 
toes.  And then her feet were roughly kicked apart.  Stevie 
slowly, teasingly, ran her pointer finger over the wet lips of 
Linda’s pussy, crudely asking, "Is all of this moisture from 
the shower?"

She chuckled at her own wit.

"You know, fish, this is the part of my job that I like best.  I 
love bending over some stuck-up little yuppie for a pinky poke.  
You looked pretty snazzy when you strutted through my prison this 
morning, but, even then, I imagined what it would be like to strip 
you out of those designer clothes and order you to 'assume the 
position.'  How does it feel to be my bitch, Linda?" 

Linda orgasmed as Stevie's talented finger slowly corkscrewed into 
her.  It was Linda's first orgasm of the long Labor Day Weekend.  
  
But it would not be her last. 

		******************************            

Twenty minutes later, Biff, the health club manager, looked out 
the window of his office and saw Stevie push a woman wearing a 
tube top and orange shorts toward the back of her prison van.  
The handcuffed woman was barefoot, and she was trying to walk 
gingerly across the hot asphalt.    

Biff smiled as Stevie shoved the prisoner into the back of the 
van.  It was Friday, and Stevie had bagged a new "weekend 
volunteer" already.  This was the third time in four months that 
Stevie had "arrested" one of Biff's customers.  But he never got 
any complaints, and it was fun watching Stevie transform pampered 
gym queens into jail-house bimbos. 

He knew that the new "inmate" would be sleeping and eating at the 
jail and picking up litter along the highway this weekend.  But he 
hoped that Stevie would remember to bring the new con to his house 
before her release Monday night.  He wanted someone to dig a footer 
for a retaining wall, clear and roto-till his garden, and pump out 
his septic tank.  Stevie had promised him that her "Labor Day 
inmate" would put in a lot of overtime at hard labor in his 
backyard. 

He chuckled as he watched the van drive off.  He knew that, this 
weekend, the spoiled princess in the prison outfit would learn a 
whole new meaning for the term "Labor Day."



Edited by C. Lakewood