Jealous Wives United - Chapter 4: Ouch Cream

[This is a fantasy of 100% fiction, set many years in the future. Any similarity between its characters and actual persons is purely coincidental. All scientific claims of life extension are also invented.]

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

Valerie grinned as Trish’s twins chipped away at their mounds of titty ice cream. Samantha, who hummed contentedly as she scooped up ladylike portions from her crystal goblet, seemed to particularly relish the taste. The ice cream had a more delicate flavor than the product the little girl typically consumed for dessert in her kindergarten lunchroom. She hoped this delicious new creation would soon be available at her school.

Valerie was proud of how visiting children seemed to relish her Dairy’s product, in spite of its controversial origin. Once the little boys and girls tasted the titty ice cream, they seemed undaunted by the knowledge that it was churned from the prisoners’ breast milk. Titty ice cream had become the highlight of school field trips.

The Chief Matron winked at the little girl. “Do you find the pretty ladies’ tee-tee ice cream yummy, sweetie? Does the fruit of their udders tickle your taste buds after a hard day of kicking that home-wrecker Cheryl’s big knockers?”

Samantha nodded her head rapidly. “Mmmm! Yes! I like tee-tee ice cream better than the stuff they serve at my school! I want to eat this kind every day!”

Michael nodded in quiet agreement with his sister. He had never tasted such delicious ice cream. Yet he was awed by the fact that so many naked women had to endure so much painful labor in the milking stalls to make such a treat possible. Even at his young age, the little boy had sensed the torment pervading the milking floor. The harsh wrenching of the women’s breasts had not escaped his eye. The prisoners’ forced smiles couldn't conceal their tears, suppressed yelps, curling toes, and furrowed brows. The effects of the rough milkings had peeked through the “gracious” expressions the women were required to present to visiting children. As much as the prisoners struggled to hide their agony from such visitors, it was impossible to completely mask it, even if the Horse was the “official” penalty for any lack of decorum in the milking stalls.

Valerie chuckled at the twins’ positive responses to her inquiry. “Oh, you like your desserts that much? Then we’ll just have to milk their big home-wrecking tee-tees harder so you kids can have all the ice cream you want!”

Trish rolled her eyes. “Oh lord. Be careful, Val. My kids will eat you out of house and home!”

Valerie touched her hand and laughed. “Don’t worry about our running out of milk anytime soon, Trish. It’s always flowing here. By the end of this year, we’ll be cycling three thousand pairs of young, lactating breasts through our milking stalls. Once we stimulate these single twenty-somethings’ milk glands, they can produce as much cream as any pregnant women. Trust me, these blueblood Yuppies can lactate buckets once our treatments get them going. And their milk is copious, thick and sweet.”

Valerie laughed, “It must be due to all their ‘power lunches’ at classy city restaurants.”

Trish smirked. “Yeah, power lunches with our husbands no doubt. ‘Flirting lunches’ would be more like it.”

Valerie said, “I know what you mean. Anyway, the fruits of these home-wreckers’ high living are now flowing into OUR milk pails and pleasing the palates of OUR children. And their milk accumulates overnight like floodwaters behind a dam.”

Trish said, “The women lactate that much from your treatments?”

“They do indeed. I remember the time we closed the milking stalls to give our milkmaids a 7-day holiday. Those young girls’ small hands deserved a break from having to squeeze those big teats day after day. We didn’t want any of our milkmaids to develop carpel tunnel syndrome from their work in the stalls. Anyway, by the fifth day the prisoners’ udders had become so gorged with milk that their nipples were leaking profusely. And the women’s breasts had grown so acutely tender from the pent-up milk that it hurt them even to walk briskly. Of course, making the prisoners perform naked exercises that caused their breasts to bounce was utter torture for them.

“Our gymnasium floors soon became drenched with the prisoners’ leaking milk. These home-wreckers were slipping and sliding in their own breast milk as they performed jumping jacks! I’m not kidding, these Yuppie princesses were falling ass-first in their own lactation!”

Trish laughed, “Wow! That must have been a sight!”

Valerie continued. “It was a hoot! Anyway, the slaves soon grew very eager to get back to the milking stalls to have the pressure relieved, even if they had to endure our milkmaids’ harsh fingers. The slaves actually got down on their knees and begged us to reopen the stalls! Yes, it seems that denial of milking has its own torments for a lactating breast. So, to make a long story short, the prisoners don’t look forward to long milking holidays.”

Trish said, “It seems like an effective form of punishment though.”

Valerie said, “It is. Oh by the way, when Jennifer Spencer is turned over to you tomorrow, she’ll have been un-milked for a week. Double-full breasts -- that’s our policy for turning a slave over to the wife. Miss Spencer will be coming to your home with her udders gorged. And this time, we’re smarter about it. We’ve clamped her nipples with strong clamps to keep her milk where it belongs until you need it.”

Trish gasped, “One week? Oooo. Jennifer must be suffering by now.”

The Chief Matron nodded. “By this time, she’s one achy young lady, ready to bust. Do you think your daughter will want to greet your new slave with a kick to her udders?”

Trish said, “Yes, my little girl may do just that. Samantha’s well aware that Jennifer tried to steal her daddy.”

Valerie laughed, “Well, Jennifer’s teats will be sore as sin. Her knockers will be as tender as a man’s testicles. And Samantha better wear a raincoat if she knocks off one of those nipple clamps! The way your daughter kicks teats, it’ll be raining milk!”

The little girl, who had been absorbed in finishing her ice cream, looked up at the Chief Matron and frowned. “Will the naked ladies run out of tee-tee cream some day?”

Valerie shook her head. “Oh no honey. The prisoners make tons of fresh tee-tee milk each day. Unless, of course, we cut off their tee-tees.”

Valerie then poked the little girl and giggled. “Or maybe you’ll Karate kick their big udders so hard that they’ll start making milk shakes for you, you cute little knocker-socker!”

Samantha smiled mischievously and showed her tiny, sneaker-clad right foot. Valerie looked down at it and gasped, “Your foot is so tiny, but yet so mighty! Every home-wrecker’s tits must be trembling in fear of your kicking feet at this very moment! Jennifer Spencer will sure be quaking in her dress pumps when you meet her tomorrow!”

Trish laughed. “Yep, my daughter sure learned a few things in Karate class. She really rocked Cheryl’s udders. If my child decides to have a go at Jennifer’s titties, that young lady will be in for a world of hurt.”

The Chief Matron nodded. “You don’t have to convince me. Your child nearly ruptured Cheryl’s knockers. I’ve seen little girls kick udders before, but never as hard as your daughter can kick them. It’s just too bad for Cheryl that Supa Patagong was the one milking her bruised teats today. Trust me, little Supa made the final stages of Cheryl’s milking torture. Supa has three characteristics that make her a ferocious milker. She has strong fingers, she’s relentless, and she cuts no slack for a Yuppie’s sore udders.”

Trish said, “Supa seems like such a cheerful girl, but I saw how hard she squeezed Cheryl’s teats.”

Valerie said, “Supa is a very insistent milkmaid, even when milking sore breasts. She always thinks she can wring just one more drop out of a woman’s teat. She doesn’t care how much it hurts either. She just squeezes and wrings those big udders with her tiny hands until nothing more comes out. But many of our foreign milkmaids are just like Supa. The Southeast Asian girls are all tigers in the milking stalls. Mind you, these girls are as sweet as they can be to visiting children, but they’re merciless in milking the prisoners’ udders for them.

“In fact, I think they milk the hardest when children are watching. Supa loves to feed children the milk of the women who wronged them. She even told me that seeing the child victims of home-wreckers inspires her hands to work harder. She says it makes her want to wring the prisoners’ udders like dishrags.”

Trish said, “Supa was very gracious to my twins. But I did notice that her hands were pumping extra hard when she talked to them. All of their hands were pumping hard. The last stages of the milkings looked very painful. ”

Valerie nodded. “Our milk, butter and cheese products are so white and pure. The children who consume them rarely see how much agony goes into their production. But the tribulations of these home-wreckers’ breasts are not our children’s worry. Why should they be? It’s simple justice that so much home-wrecker pain lies behind what our children enjoy.”

“I remember one wife who made a special note of this issue when she brought her three small children to view the milkings. She hated home-wreckers so much, she wasn’t keen on her children consuming their milk.”

Trish said, “So the wife refused the milk for her young ones?”

Valerie said, “At first she did. But after watching a few milkings, she realized how painful the process could be. She heard the yelps and groans and saw the tears. She was pleasantly surprised to see what an ordeal it was. So, she warmed to the idea of her children consuming it, but on one condition. She said she’d let her children drink only what she called ‘achy milk’. That’s the milk wrung out at the end, when it hurts the most. It’s no different than any other milk, but she felt better that some painful labor lay behind it. She said if a home-wrecker was going to produce milk for her children, she wanted the prisoner to ‘ache like sin’ in doing it.

“We did our best to please her. We filled her kids’ glasses with milk from the final stages of 20 milkings. Of course, the milkmaids noticed the mother’s interest and nearly tore the prisoners’ tits off in getting the last drops out for her children. I think the 20 prisoners who had to supply that milk cried more tears of pain than the milk they squirted into those glasses.”

Trish said, “After all these rough milkings, the women’s aching breasts must keep them awake all night.”

The Chief Matron said, “It can. But we let the prisoners hang their sore teats in barrels of ice water to reduce the swelling and pain. They’re usually in reasonable shape for a milking by the next day.”

“Will you be having Cheryl milked tomorrow?”

“Well, given the ferocious beating your daughter gave Cheryl’s udders, I thought I might give her a day off. Would you prefer that Cheryl be milked?”

Trish nodded. “I know this seems cruel, but I’d like my kids to enjoy her achy milk before their visit ends.”

The Chief Matron said. “No need to feel bad about that. It’s your right. And I suspect it will be achy milk indeed.”

Valerie giggled. “It’ll be more like screaming-at-the-top-of-her-lungs milk. Cheryl may beg for the Mastectator just to be rid of her sore knockers.”

Samantha giggled at the phrase “achy milk.” Then she pointed at her half finished ice cream and said, “This must be Ouch Cream!”

Both women broke out laughing. Trish then smiled at her daughter and said, “Very clever, honey!”

Valerie said, “You are clever indeed! It takes a lot of milk to make a pint of ice cream. So ‘Ouch Cream’ is right on the mark sweetie! You’re sharp as a tack! Cheryl screams. Jennifer screams. They all scream from making Ouch Cream!”

Trish and her daughter laughed wildly.

Michael continued to eat quietly. He was still reflecting on the sheer spectacle of the milking stalls, especially the long line of nude vaginas and, more especially, the wrinkled soles of feet. His tiny penis had stiffened early on that tour as he studied the endless parade of naked female foot bottoms. Only his sister’s brutal Karate practice on Cheryl’s tits had interrupted the little boy’s trance.

Valerie noticed Michael’s pensive look. She turned to Trish. “You son seems lost in thought. I hope he hasn’t been bored by all this talk of lactation and sore udders.”

Trish said, “On no. He’s probably thinking of all those..”

Trish giggled, and then leaned over to whisper in the Chief Matron’s ear. “..I mean, all those women’s bare feet he just saw in the milking stalls.”

Valerie smiled and whispered back “Ah yes. My bad. I’d almost forgotten your little boy’s fetish. Sometimes we at the Dairy get so wrapped up in lactation matters that we can forget a child’s special dream.”

Valerie then said, “Trish. I want to make it up to your son. He’s been so quiet and so sweet. How would your Michael like being king for a day?”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean he’d be Little Mister Inspector General -- judge, jury and whatever else strikes his fancy.”

Trish eye’s widened with sudden comprehension. “You mean..?”

Valerie smiled devilishly. “Yes. Foot Inspector.”

Trish rolled her eyes. “Oh my god. He’ll flip! Can you arrange it?”

Valerie nodded. “I sure can.”

Michael’s eyes widened as he overheard this conversation.

The Chief Matron giggled. “Ooops. We forgot to let our male Guest of Honor in on this little plan.”

Trish looked at her son. “Honey, do you know what we’re talking about?”

The little boy blushed, yet his heartbeat accelerated with excitement at the implication. Early on in the tour, he sensed that a big moment might be coming for him. The Chief Matron’s accepting and even encouraging tone concerning his fetish in a facility filled with beautiful, frequently barefoot prisoners had caused a building anticipation inside him. Valerie’s efforts to make Hillary’s naked foot available to him as the prisoner awaited her Mastectomy already had the child on the razor’s edge of excitement about what might be coming next.

The Chief Matron smiled gently at the little boy. “Honey, what we’ve been saying is that we’d really appreciate it if you could do us a big favor here at the Dairy. You see, all the kids love to have fun playing Nanny Tickle with the prisoners’ feet. Would you like to play Nanny Tickle sometime?”

The little boy blushed and looked at his mother. She smiled reassuringly. He finally nodded. “Yes.”

Valerie smiled broadly. “The way you tickled Kirsten’s foot, I thought you might enjoy it.”

“Anyway, if you’re going to play Nanny Tickle, the prisoners must take off their shoes and, if you want, their nylon stockings. After all, it would be silly to try to tickle a foot that’s in a big ol’ high heel shoe, wouldn’t it?”

Michael nodded. “It wouldn’t tickle her.”

Valerie said. “Nope. It wouldn’t tickle her at all! So the ladies really need to take off their shoes for Nanny Tickle.”

The little boy looked puzzled. He asked, “Only shoes? Are the ladies still ticklish with their stockins on?”

Valerie said, “That’s a very good question little sir! Yes, ladies’ feet can be very ticklish through nylon. Unlike cloth socks, nylon stockings are very thin. And the prisoners aren’t permitted socks, only sheer nylons. But whether a lady takes off her nylons for you to tickle her feet is for you to decide, sweetie. You can tickle her feet bare or nylonned. It’s your call.”

The little boy nodded thoughtfully. Yet, he could hardly believe an adult woman was so casually discussing nylons with him. Nylon had excited Michael from the first time he secretly sniffed the toes of his mother’s stockings when he found them in the laundry hamper. The musty, leather-accented smell of her nylons made his penis tingle even more than the magazine photos. Sniffing her stockings in combination with looking at the fashion ads always brought him to the pinnacle of excitement. That combination quickly generated the glorious feeling that left him limp at the end. But he was never sure if his mother knew about this aspect of his obsession.

Valerie leaned close the Michael. “Honey, what I’m trying to say is that when these ladies take off their shoes and stockings for tickling games with little boys like you, I want their feet to be perfect. No matter how pretty, well-bred and educated these young ladies may be, I demand that their feet be clean and tidy in front of children. What I mean is, I don’t want their feet to be yucky. These ladies shouldn’t disrespect you by having corns, calluses and heel scales and stinky feet and stuff. And sometimes that can happen if we’re not strict enough.

“Honey, do you know how the ladies get these foot problems?”

Although little boy sensed the reasons, he shook his head. The Chief Matron’s explanations were too titillating to interrupt.

Valerie said, “It’s their high heels and the nylons, honey. These prisoners come from the business world, which is a high-heeled world. And for a good part of the time, this prison is a high-heeled world. Here in the prison, the young ladies wear pumps and stockings much of their waking hours.”

Valerie grinned and continued, “They wear them except when little kids like you want to play tickling games. Then they must take off their shoes, and even their stockings if you prefer. So the ladies must be careful of how their stockinged and bare feet look and smell. Do you know what I mean?”

The little boy nodded. His mouth felt dry with excitement. Trish grinned knowingly down at her son. She sensed he was on the edge.

Valerie smiled at the child. “I thought you’d understand, sweetie.”

The Chief Matron touched Michael’s hand. “So, I need to have the prisoners’ feet inspected often. And there’s no better inspector in this world than a little boy who likes to tickle ladies’ feet.”

Valerie paused, and then added, “A little boy like you, Michael. If the prisoners’ don’t delight you, then nothing else matters.”

The child swallowed hard. He sensed what was coming next. Butterflies flew around in his stomach. His penis was rigid.

Valerie smiled at him gently. “Michael, would you like to inspect some pretty women’s bare feet? I’d love to have your opinion on their Yuppie soles and toes. These women come from a life where they were very stuck-up. It’s always good to make these snooty bitches put their bare soles up for a little boy’s honest opinion. You can bring the ladies down a notch or two. They need it.”

Michael looked up at Valerie. His heart was pounding out of his chest. He then gazed over at his mother.

Trish patted her child’s hand and said, “It’s ok if you want to do it, honey. Other children get to inspect the home-wreckers’ feet. Why shouldn’t you?”

Valerie said, “Very true! Inspecting and passing judgment on the prisoners’ feet is the right of any child whose family has been disrupted by these horrible women. Yes, Michael, you’re more than welcome to inspect every foot in the Dairy if you wish. I’d applaud a thorough inspection from the little boy like you. I do hope you’ll choose to honor us with your opinion of these unworthy home-wreckers’ hooves.”

The child finally nodded. Yet his mind was still unable to comprehend that grownups would sponsor such an activity. On the other hand, he’d seen his doubts put to rest in the cases of Kirsten and Hillary.

Samantha, who didn’t like to be left out of anything, finally spoke up. “Don’t I get to inspect the ladies’ feet too?”

The Chief Matron laughed. “Oh Samantha! I didn’t mean to leave you out in the cold! Of course you can inspect the prisoners’ feet right along with your brother. Two little foot inspectors are always better than one! And as tough as you were on Cheryl’s udders, you’ll be a holy terror when it comes to the prisoners’ feet!”

The little girl looked satisfied. Then she asked, “What are you gonna do to the ladies if we say their feet are yucky?”

Valerie replied, “Heaven forbid that any of these disgusting, Yuppie home-wreckers should be so careless as to offend you in that way. It’s inexcusable for the prisoners to displease when presenting their bare feet a child’s evaluation! But if they do disappoint you, they’ll be very sorry. I’ll have the women punished. They’ll also have to compensate you with a special treat to make up for their insult.”

The little girl said, “Are you gonna cut off their tee-tees?”

The Chief Matron gasped, “You mean whack off their udders if you find corns on their toes or their feet smell?”

Samantha nodded.

Valerie laughed. “Oh my goodness, I hadn’t planned anything that drastic! You are a toughie!”

The Chief Matron looked at the little girl. “Do you really want that, honey? I mean, do you want me to have their tee-tees whacked off if you find anything wrong with their feet?” Valerie was loath to refuse a child, but hoped a less severe option could be found to satisfy her.

The little girl hesitated and looked up at her mother.

Trish gently said to her daughter, “Um, sweetie, maybe there might be some other punishments that would be good, like a caning or that Horse punishment. If you have too many teats cut off for things like corns, there won’t be enough titty ice cream for little children like you. You won’t have any big udders left to kick either.”

Samantha looked disappointed. “But I like it when they cut stuff off!”

Valerie looked at the little girl and said, “Ok then, I have an idea! If the ladies’ feet receive poor foot grades from you and Michael, I‘ll have their nipples cut off and fried as snacks for you and your brother. We call them Nipple Fritters, and they’re delicious. Then, I’ll make the prisoners ride the Habanero Horse. How does that sound, sweetie?”

The little girl smiled. “Ok!”

Valerie said. “Then it’s a deal! Off with their nozzles if their feet are yucky! Let their pussies burn like hot salsa!”

Valerie smiled with satisfaction at Trish. “I like this approach because it’s not so drastic but still makes the foot inspection a challenge for these home-wreckers. They’d better pass with flying colors, because they’ll have something on the line besides their corns and calluses. If their feet fail to impress, their nipples will fry and their cunts will be kissing the pepper.”

Trish wrinkled her nose. “Ouch! Losing their nipples? Hot pepper juice on their pussies? That sounds very challenging!”

Valerie said, “It should be challenging. We’ve warned all these women to attend to their feet, so they’ll have only themselves to blame. We even mail notices to them about this matter long before they arrive here. But loss of nipples isn’t so serious. Our Regeneration Lab can grow them back as good as new in three weeks.”

Valerie tapped her chin and said, “Now we just need some freshly scrubbed and groomed ladies for your son to inspect.”

Trish raised her eyebrows, and then leaned towards Valerie’s ear to whisper, “Umm. Freshly scrubbed? I don’t know how to say this, by my son might find traveled feet more exciting.”

Valerie looked puzzled. “Traveled feet?”

Trish whispered. “I mean women who’ve been in their shoes and stockings for awhile. I say that because my son has been stealing my worn nylons and sniffing them. I saw him do it through the crack of his door. I can’t understand it, but it seems to excite him tremendously. But he has no idea that I know about this.”

Valerie giggled. “Oh god, so I need to find women who’ve been in their heels and hose all day?”

Trish nodded. “That might be more exciting for my son.”

The Chief Matron chuckled, “I can’t wait to see the faces of the prisoners whom I tap for this inspection. The women dread being called to a foot inspection in that condition, especially if children are inspecting. Little kids can be embarrassingly frank in their opinions. I can just imagine what your daughter will say. I think your twins will be snacking on nipple fritters before this day is done.”

Valerie added, “But I think this can be arranged. This morning we had two new groups of prisoners arrive. You saw one group. There was another group we had to bus back to the Tribunal because of a procedural error in their sentences. The women had to stand for a revised sentencing. We didn’t even get to strip and search them. They left in their suits and heels. They’re due back shortly. Let me check.”

The Chief Matron flipped open her cell phone. “Martie? When is that group we had to bus back to the Tribunal due back here? Within the next half hour? Great! March them straight to Eun’s office. Leave them dressed. I’ll alert Eun.”

Valerie punched in another number. “Eun! Hi! How does your schedule look today? Great! Martie will be bringing some newbies to your office within the next half hour or so. Please have the women stand by for a foot inspection. They’ve been in their shoes and stockings all day, but that doesn’t matter. There’s no need to have the women change hose or scrub. The inspector is a VIP guest who, shall we say, might be intrigued by some seasoned tootsies.”

Valerie paused to listen, and then said. “Our guest? He’s the cutest little boy you ever saw, and very shy actually.”

Then Valerie added in a whisper, “He has a big time foot fetish, with a twist. He likes to sniff nylon stockings.”

Approving female laughter erupted on the other end of the line, followed by a question.

Valerie replied, “His age? He’s 5.”

More laughter erupted from the receiver.

Valerie said, “Yep. He’s only 5. He also has a twin sister his same age. She wants to inspect the women’s feet too. Their mom is also with them. She’s all for the idea.”

Valerie paused to hear another question, and then replied, “Glad you asked. Yes, we’ve agreed on some penalties. The little girl is very interested in that part. She’s kind of a tigress. She likes it when we cut things off. If you can believe this, the child started by wanting the women’s tits cut off, but now she’s settling for just their nipples. We’ve decided on Nipple Fritters and the Habanero Horse. So please bring your cutting shears, portable stove, breading, grape seed oil, and enough Habanero Horses to seat 10 women. And bring enough fresh peppers to cover those Horse rails from end to end! Make super hot seats for those home-wreckers’ cunts if the kids flunk their feet. Thanks so much, Eun! Phone me when you have it all set up.”

Valerie winked at Trish and then grinned at her twins. “It’s in the works. In about a half hour you two cuties are going to be judge and jury for some very hot and tired Yuppie feet! For those ladies’ sakes, they’d better pray you kids are in the mood for their weary dogs.”

Trish asked, “Who was that on the other end of the phone?”

Valerie replied, “That was Eun Lee, the Korean-American girl who enforces our foot grooming rules.”

“Oh my god, I think I remember your mentioning her. Is Eun the matron who sometimes trims women’s corns with carpet shears?”

The Chief Matron nodded. “That’s her. Eun rules the foot area. She’s an incredibly beautiful, delicate looking Asian girl, but she’s tough as nails on this subject. She’s a real stickler for foot grooming. Blemishes such as corns and calluses raise Eun’s hackles big time. She’ll use her shears if she feels a prisoner isn’t working hard enough to clear them up.”

Trish said, “I think it’s wonderful that you have someone to focus on these details. But I’m curious. Why did Eun seize on this topic?”

Valerie replied, ”I think Eun’s determination comes from two things in her background. First, when she was 8 years old, her 40-year old father ran off with an Asian American woman in her 20’s’ who spent the family’s money and left Eun and her mother nearly destitute. So Eun hates home-wreckers with a passion.

“Then there were her experiences on her previous job. Eun worked as a shoe clerk in an exclusive Manhattan women’s footwear boutique. The store catered to 20-something Yuppie girls from the financial district. Eun had to help these picky young businesswomen, mostly white women, choose the ‘right’ pumps. I think Eun somehow felt humiliated by having to cheerfully deal with all those sweaty Yuppie nylonned feet every day. Plus, she had to jump to her fickle customers’ demands. It wasn’t just the white women. Eun said some of the young Asian American women customers could be even more imperious.”

Trish said, “I can sympathize with Eun. Women like Jennifer and Cheryl think the world revolves around their frivolous needs.”

Valerie continued, “I think Eun had her fill of it. When she started working here as a matron, she jumped at the chance to turn the tables. It all started when she was working in Child Care. Eun was facilitating her first game of Nanny Tickle. The kids were tickling only the prisoners’ ribs at that time. Eun suggested they try tickling their feet as well. So, Eun had a large group of flabbergasted white women and two Asian American women remove their shoes and stockings for this game. But she wasn’t impressed with either the women’s shoes or the condition of their bare feet. So she complained to me about it. I told Eun she had free rein to fix the problem. At that point, Eun kind of slipped into the role of foot-grooming matron. She invented the job and then made the most of it.

“Yes, I had no idea of the rigor Eun would apply to that new position. First, she insisted on tight-fitting pumps for the prisoners. She said ‘comfort pumps’ looked sloppy. After that, she started hounding the women about their corns and calluses. If Eun saw a corn at Nanny Tickle, she would give it a painful tweak. She also encouraged the kids to pinch and tweak the prisoners’ corns. She made the prisoners put up with every bit of it too.”

Trish said, “Hmm. Tight pumps and avoiding corns don’t seem to mix.”

Valerie shrugged her shoulders. “Eun could care less. She feels these home-wreckers deserve to be vexed by such conflicting challenges.”

“Anyway, Eun’s next step was to institute formal foot inspections, with children as inspectors. Eun is very good with children, even the shy ones. She’s reassuring and supportive of them as inspectors. Eun is also sensitive to racial differences. She makes black and Asian American children comfortable in thoroughly inspecting young white women’s feet. Given that Eun is of Korean descent, she takes extra care to ensure that white children are comfortable in thoroughly inspecting young Asian American women’s feet. She prides herself on her democratic approach to this task.”

“After that, Eun established penalties for substandard foot grooming. And she’s not bashful about laying on the punishments either.

“That’s where Eun’s carpet shears entered the scene. We had some pompous, young TV anchorwoman who didn’t take Eun’s warnings seriously. Ironically, the anchorwoman was a very pretty Japanese American girl. For the second time, this pretty newsgirl showed up at Nanny Tickle with bare feet Eun considered ‘corny.’ Or at least some little white girl pronounced the anchorwoman’s feet as corny. Eun blew up when she heard the child’s comment. She had the TV woman stripped naked and hog-tied on the spot. Then she took a pair of carpet shears to her corns. The anchorwoman howled at the top of her lungs as Eun worked those big clippers over her toes. The anchorwoman couldn’t believe a Korean American girl, a woman of her own race, was doing that to her.”

Valerie laughed. “Well that incident sure got everyone’s attention! The Yuppies who used to run Eun ragged at that shoe store are now up to the wee hours shaping and polishing their toenails and working pumices over their soles and toes to avoid her wrath. The Asian American girls among them probably work on their feet even harder.”

Trish laughed. “I can see why the prisoners suddenly got religion about their tootsies!”

The Chief Matron smiled wryly. “But keep in mind that the ladies your twins will inspect are newbies. They’ve probably received Eun’s notices about feet in the mail. But they haven’t met Eun in the flesh. It should be interesting. Also, there are two really beautiful Asian American girls in this new group of prisoners. Eun will encourage your kids to go over their feet with a fine toothed comb.”

Trish said, “It seems we’re going to be entertained with an example of culture shock.”

Valerie nodded. “We just might. Anyway, Eun will facilitate your kids’ inspection activities and also help administer any penalties. She’s a real pro at this. And with Eun, a child’s opinion on feet is sacred. So, the fate of the women’s nipples lies entirely in your twins’ hands.

“By the way, Eun is also a superb tenders chef. If you like titties and pussy parts cooked Korean style, Eun’s the girl to see. She’ll also do a great job on those Nipple Fritters.”

******