Chapter Eight
The guard used her baton to steer Gina into the shower room. It was planted deep in Gina’s ass, where the red and irritated ring of flesh gripped it firmly. She was crawling, because she had been ordered to. The woman wanted to enjoy the sight of those blistered cheeks all the way down the hall. Gina’s cuffed hands had been changed from the back to front, to make this possible, but she was forced to slide her palms ahead of herself across the concrete whenever her knees caught up. While the guard urged her along with the strap, as she did most of the way, Gina had to scuttle forward in a sort of bunny hop.
There were odd fixtures in the shower room, things that didn’t belong in a police station. Two coiled hoses were hanging from spigots on the wall. One ended in a spray no
