BEHIND BARS (ff, reluc, celeb, voy, AU, prison)
CHAPTER SIX: PLANS
AUTHOR: Zahir al-daoud (firstname.lastname@example.org)
FEEDBACK: Please! It is the only pay received for writing these. And feel free to offer suggestions. Can’t promise I’ll use every one, but I’ll at least consider them (barring certain practices that just do nothing for me at all). Besides, its the only way I’ll ever get any better!
NOTES: This story is set in an alternate timeline, one wherein many of the famous ladies in our world have led different lives, ending up as either staff or inmates at a women’s prison.
What follows is a piece of fiction. Legally, one should consider it a parody. No comment is made or implied about the genuine lives or personalities of the celebrities described, nor about their orientations or tastes. It is a fantasy, pure and simple. Do not take it seriously, please. And no, I’ve no notion how to contact any of these people in real life.
CAST (in this chapter):
Jaime Pressley as the Deputy Warden
Eliza Dushku as a Corrections Office
Agnes Bruckner as an inmate
Marisa Tomei as the Prison Physician
Jaime Pressley leaned back in her chair. A deputy warden’s office was rarely as large or as ornate as the warden’s. But at Santa Fernanda, this was the case. Unlike Warden Jansen’s office, Jaime’s had enough room to pace. The prison’s doctor took advantage of that, shooting back and forth across the length of the office at the rate of two dozen times a minute. She was almost hyperventilating.
“Go over it again,” Jamie asked.
“Why?” said Doctor Marisa Tomei. To do that, she at least stopped pacing. Her hands began fiddling with a ring.
“I want to make sure I understand exactly–exactly–what you’re saying.” Jaime said this looking into Marisa’s eyes without blinking. She held her gaze, and after a moment the doctor’s fingers slowed. Good.
“A couple of hours ago Inmate Chabert started complaining about pain in her groin. I examined her and found a severe bite mark. That bite wasn’t there yesterday.”
“You’d swear to that in court?”
“Damn right I would! She’s got a bruise that’s halfway to her navel!” Surely that was an exageration, but Jaime nodded for her to go on. “Must have been hours old. The only reason she didn’t feel it was because she was on a painkiller Nurse Union gave her. That got me wondering. Did a little inventory.” She paused for effect. “Techerol,” she said at last.
“I’m not a doctor,” said Jaime.
“Techerol is more than a painkiller. Its a specialized opiate intended for use with severe chronic pain. Very, very powerful. We’re supposed to have a hundred twenty tablets. I counted seventy four! No way we could have used up that many techerol in only six months–no fucking way!”
“Back up for a moment,” Jaime said, holding up one hand. “Connect the dots for me.”
“Connect your own fucking dots! Don’t you see? Techerol is a date rape drug! There’re something like forty different laws on the books about using it, having it, dispensing it–even missing some from inventory is an offence!”
Ah. Jaime didn’t nod her head, but inside she might as well have. Doctor Tomei had been at Santa Fernanda almost six months, half as long as Jaime herself. She’d never shown much emotion before. Mostly her manner was friendly, easy-going, a little nervous maybe but never before this upset. Panicked, almost. But if she was talking about criminal charges…! Aimed at herself! No one wanted to avoid prison more than those who worked at one.
“What sort of things would you use techerol for?” Best to redirect her, to focus on facts and her own expertise. It was worth a try.
Tomei wasn’t just fiddling with her anymore. She was spinning it on her finger. “Its usually used for post operative pain–especially if you don’t want a patient to actually sleep, because they stay awake, but disoriented. Most people who take it become suggestible, but almost nobody remembers what happens while under the influence. You see why its restricted!” The ring turned. It was a school ring, thick with a dark stone. Tomei had to keep her fingers splayed.
“And you believe Nurse Union used it?”
“She and I are the only ones with the key!”
“Right. Doctor, I need to ask you a question. Please pay attention.” She put just a little Authority in her voice. It worked. The ring slowed. So did Tomei’s breathing. “For the record,” said Jaime, “did you take the techerol?”
“Did you dispense it to any of your patients?”
“Not that many!”
“But you did use it?”
“Sure–for the appendectomy in July. But that was only three tablets. Three! Not forty six!”
“Okay. And did you authorize anybody to dispense techerol?”
“Absolutely not,” she nearly hissed. Silence for a moment. Then the doctor stopped fiddling with her ring and her voice lowered. “Lacey said the nurse gave her two pills. Two. Double the usual dosage for techerol. You take two techerol, you can be the guest of honor at a gang bang and you won’t even try to get away. More, you won’t remember it.” She wasn’t blinking, but met Jaime’s eyes. For the first time, her energy wasn’t worry or panic. It was conviction. “Lacey’s bruises are hours old. They were clearly inflicted long before I arrived, while she was alone in the infirmiry with Nurse Union. She displays all the classic signs of having taken techerol, given to her by Nurse Union. You realize where I’m going with this?”
“Unfortunately,” sighed Jaime. “Worse–I think you’re right.”
“Then what are we going to do about it?”
“Not a lot.”
“Not yet, anyway,” continued Jaime, “because there isn’t much we can do. Doctor, you just made a great case but its easy to pick holes in it. For example, how do you know there isn’t a third key to the drug cabinet?”
“Because I had the locks changed when I arrived!”
“I remember. But that was six months ago. Can you account for both keys for that entire time?”
“My key went on my keychain and stayed there.”
“Alright. Now–how can you be sure Nurse Union’s key was never out of sight long enough to get an impression?
Give her credit, Tomei took all this without any more nervousness. In fact, she grew quieter. “Nurse Union,” she said, “was the only one in the infirmiry.”
“Are you sure? Absolutely sure? As in sure no guard, for example, didn’t watch the place while she went to the bathroom?”
“I asked her if she left the infirmiry. She said no.”
“Did she know you were doing anything more than being curious?”
“Never mind what you assume, even if you’re right. Did you actually tell her why you wanted to know? Did you tell her someone molested your patient that morning?” She waited.
From the way Tomei hesitated, Jaime expected the answer when it came. “I didn’t tell her, no.”
“Doctor,” began Jaime after a few moments, “why did you come to me? Not the Warden. Me?” She said nothing. Jaime waited, then continued. “We both know the answer. And that’s why its hard for me to do anything.” She let those words sink in. Clearly, it was difficult to swallow. It had been for her as well. “I’m not naive, Doctor. Presumably, you’re not either. Things go on in prison, a lot of them very illegal and there’s no real way to stop that.”
“You’re telling to let my patient be…”
“No! I’m not. What I’m saying is that everyone knows the rules are a lot looser in prison, and no one’s going to act–at least no one who can act–until they know beyond any doubt that some line has been crossed. A line they just cannot let be crossed! What you have here, isn’t enough. It simply isn’t.”
Doctor Tomei waited. She looked unhappy. And angry. But she also looked as if she was listening. Good! Because that was going to be needed.
“What can we do?” The simplicity of the way she said it was deceptive. In fact, her eyes quietly burned.
“Keep your eyes open,” was Jaime’s immediate answer. “Take notes. A diary would be a good idea. What’s needed is evidence.”
“And in the meantime? What about Lacey Chabert?”
Jaime thought for a moment. Then, she opened a drawer to her desk. Among the various files she kept nearby was one with very basic information. Many would see it as little more than a list of names and numbers. One reason Jamie Pressley had risen to this rank was that she could keep track of such things. The list reminded her, allowing her to double-check what she mostly already remembered. It took her less than twenty seconds to find what she was looking for.
“Full changeover of prisoners usually happen after some releases. But the Warden made a small change recently–and that means I can adjust things in response.”
“What kind of change?”
“She gave one of the corner semi-privates to a new arrival.” The corner cells of the semi-privates held only two bed, instead of three. “Renee Zellwenger. Conspiracy to commit armed robbery. Used to be a librarian and the Warden put her in charge of ours. From what I gather, she hasn’t been spending a lot of time in her cell at night.” A raised eyebrow aimed at the Doctor struck home. She nodded, getting what this meant. “The point is, I can switch her cellmate out and put Lacey there. She’ll be away from Nurse Union, but pretty much away from harm. Does that satisfy you?”
Tomei nodded. “It’ll have to, won’t it?”
Corrections Officer Eliza Dushku left the locker room feeling empowered. She couldn’t help it. A smile hovered on her lips as she made her way through the prison halls. Just to be safe, she swung her baton in front of her. It hindered anyone from getting a too-clear look at her pants. Explaining the sudden…addition…would delay her. Eliza didn’t want any delay. She’d waited long enough. And worked out the timing perfectly.
First, use the ten minute break to go and get the strap-on from her locker. In truth, she had a collection there–different sizes and shapes and colors. Bright red, for example. Like this one. Its silicone shaft was seven inches long but thin, with a small pointed knob at the tip. A wire inside gave it strength, but still was easy to fit inside her uniform trousers. There was no full-length mirror in the locker room, unfortunately. She’d’ve liked to take a look at herself, to enjoy the effect. No matter. She knew what it looked like. When packing, Eliza knew enough to create the exact illusion she desired–as if she had a hard, rampant cock eager for action.
Although it wasn’t really an illusion,
Eliza made her way to the exercise yard–the size of a baseball field and dotted with only four trees. Half the space was paved with concrete cracking in the sun. Most of the rest held patches of grass. Three dozen inmates were trying to relax or play, under the watchful eyes of armed guards from three towers, as well as four other officers with batons at the door. As Eliza arrived, she could see the senior officer–Sargent Jeri Ryan–keeping her eyes on a watch, whistle in hand. Only two guards among those who actually moved in among the inmate population on a regular basis actually wore guns. Ryan was one of those, the sign of seniority and rank. The other–Lieutenant Linda Park–wasn’t here. Eliza had mixed feelings about those guns. She envied the priveleges and salary they implied, but at times like this she thought a firearm would get in her way. Not good, that.
Her timing proved perfect. Less than ten seconds after stepping into the excercise yard, Eliza heard Sargent Ryan blow her whistle. Obediently, all the prisoners began heading back indoors. They grumbled, complained, some shouted obscenities. But they moved. Like good little sheep.
That made Eliza laugh. She had an image of herself as a wolf for a moment. And that in turn gave rise to another image–the girl she was looking for in a little red cape and hood.
My what a big tongue you have!
All the better to eat you with my dear.
There! A tall blonde girl trying her best to be invisible, and failing. At least Eliza saw her, exactly like a wolf spotting the weak member of a flock. But where a real wolf might start salivating at the sight of its natural prey, Eliza’s reaction was different. At least, it wasn’t her mouth that got wet. But she did follow Agnes, just the way a wolf did its prey. She moved to the side, then approached from behind. Naturally, the inmates made way for her.
One hand reached up and rested on Agnes Bruckner’s shoulder. The girl jumped! She looked around, and her eyes got huge when she saw who it was had touched her.
“There are some things you and I need to talk about,” Eliza said, smiling. She tried not to gloat too much. That would only make things harder. As it was, she could feel the tension in Agnes shoulder, the desire to run away–or at least walk away as fast as she dared. Except she didn’t dare. To emphasize that, Eliza squeezed her shoulder. Not hard. Just a little. Almost as if she was comforting the girl.
“Come on,” urged Eliza, “you and me, we gotta talk.”
And with that, she led Inmate Bruckner away from the pressing mass of other prisoners. Just a simple turn of the hand, and she went where Eliza wanted. Not far. Where the others went forward, Eliza directed her prisoner to the left.
“You’re getting out soon, aren’t you?”
“In five weeks,” answered the blonde girl, voice shaking a little. Sexy, that.
“Lets hope nothing goes wrong in those five weeks.” She said it simply, but those words had the effect she wanted. Agnes’ stride changed a little. Not a lot. Just enough to show some fear. “That’s be a real shame.”
The room was designed for meetings between inmates and their lawyers. Eliza didn’t know whether Agnes had ever been here before. It combined some odd details. A stark table and four simple chairs, but a sofa against one wall–old but practically luxurious compared to the other furniture. Walls were bare concrete blocks, not even painted, yet a simple rug adorned the floor. One bare fixture flooded the room with the glare from a pair of hundred-watt bulbs. Eliza locked the door behind them. She pointed to the sofa. “Have a seat.” It didn’t quite sound like an order.
Agnes walked across the room to sit down, every move gobbled up by Eliza’s eyes. She was perfect. Young enough to be fresh, experienced enough to know some idea of what was happening, not yet so jaded she wasn’t afraid. And just plain gorgeous. Eliza almost drooled at the thought of what she was going to do.
Instead of sitting next to her on the sofa, Eliza grabbed a chair. The strapon made sitting tricky, at least as long as she still wore these trousers. Facing Agnes, she sat with her legs wide. But close. That was important. “I know what’s going on,” she told the girl.
Her reward was a blink.
Eliza smiled, not a cruel smile but friendly. Not an act, either. She not only lusted after Agnes, but pretty much liked her. It was better for her this way. Even she had to know that. “You lucked out, didn’t you? Got Officer Park to protect you almost right off. She can be mean, yeah, but at least you’ve still got all your teeth. No bruises, am I right? No visits to the infirmiry? Imagine what’d it be like if the Pinks gotta hold of you.” She let that sink in. Damn near nobody wanted to cross the Pinks, as Agnes knew. She’d been here long enough to see Liz Vassey turned into their bitch, probably heard some of the times that woman had been raped. Nor was she their only victim. “But now…” Eliza didn’t finish her sentence. Just watched Agnes squirm. A little. Just a little.
“Now,” continued Eliza after a couple of moments, “she’s got a new favorite. The Pinks know it. They’re distracted right now, but won’t be for long. And besides, tomorrow Milano gets out of solitary.”
She watched Agnes blanch. Of all the Pinks, it was Milano who had flirted/threatened her the most. It was Milano who’d put Chabert in the infirmiry refusing to take ‘no’ for an answer. Milano who’d be horny and want what she called fun. And the Pinks would gladly help, holding down whoever she’d be having fun with, then share her over and over and over.
“You need a friend,” said Eliza. And waited.
Soon, Agnes replied, voice very low. “I…I know.”
The poor girl kept her head down. Eliza reached over, put hand on chin, lifted until eyes met eyes. “I can be a real good friend. Better than Parks, even. Know what I mean?”
Almost–she almost pulled her head away. But didn’t. Good. Even kept eye contact with Eliza. Better. A gentle pressure from her hand, coupled with leaning forward, proved all the clues needed. Their lips touched–Eliza’s firm, Agnes’ trembling. That was okay. It was only a first kiss, after all. Barely more than a peck.
The second took longer, just not much. Agnes closed her eyes. Just putting up with it? Waiting for it to be over? Was that what it was like with Parks? If so, no wonder she got turned over of the Murphy girl! But Eliza wasn’t worried. Confident in her skills, she kissed Agnes again–this time pushing the tip of her tongue against those lips. Just the tip, just enough pressure the girl knew what was expected, and she obediently opened her mouth. Eliza’s hand reached to the back of her head, pulling it forward into a kiss anything but a tentative. No, this kiss was a hungry one, and no way Agnes was going to stay passive. Eliza sucked, pulling the blonde girl’s tongue into her own mouth, which didn’t want to go. She nearly laughed at that. Too late, little girl. She continued, coaxing Agnes tongue with her own, then demanding, then at last victory–Agnes allowed her own tongue to slide into Eliza’s mouth.
No rush. The kiss went on. Eliza had the upper hand and simply would not release her captive. Instead she revelled in the (slight–so far) responses she got. Not much. Just some teasing, a little bit of welcome for Eliza’s tongue, maybe a tiny bit of extra drool. But enough.
When Eliza pulled away, she couldn’t help but grin. Agnes had tried keep the kiss going. Eyes shooting open, she knew it, too. Not letting her withdraw, Eliza shifted. Leaving the chair, she put her knees on the sofa, astride one of Agnes’ legs. One hand stroked her hair, while the other reached down to cup the prisoner’s breast. Even through the bra and inmate uniform, the nipple felt a little hard. Thumb and fingertips began circling, stroking, teasing. Eliza meant that nipple to become very hard.
“You have no idea,” she exulted, voice even lower than Agnes’ had been, “how good a friend I can be.”
From the look in Agnes’ eyes, she heard those words as both a threat and a promise. Smart girl. Better yet–responsive girl, for her breathing had gotten deeper. That in turn helped Eliza in her caresses. As they rose and fell, Agnes’ breasts moved in and out of Eliza’s fingers’ grasp. The heat of them would touch and recede from Eliza’s palm, while her fingers continued to play and stroke.
And yes, Agnes’ nipple was getting harder and harder. Eliza felt it. Her eyes showed the triumph she felt, and Agnes’ eyes showed she understood that. They also showed she didn’t really know how to respond. Nor did she as Eliza’s fingers left, reaching over to start unbottoning the uniform. Only the first three were in easy reach, but in mere moments–each lasting a century or so–they were undone. Leaning down, Eliza reached inside and took that breast firmly in hand. More, her mouth grabbed Agnes’ own, in a kiss if anything more hungry and possessive than the last.
This time Agnes responding almost instantly. Shudders even ran through her as Eliza’s thumb stroked her erect nipple through the prison-issue bra. Pinching, gently. Circling that nipple, stroking the whole tit.
Agnes moaned. Excellent. Better, Eliza felt hands on her own hips, Agnes’ hands. Not hard or holding, but resting there. Maybe she didn’t even know what she’d done. The kiss went on, as did the stroking of her hardening nipple. Her moans got softer, but more regular. Soon, the hands on Eliza’s hips did more than rest there. They clasped. Gently at first, hardly more than a little pressure from the fingers. But that pressure grew.
When Eliza thought it time, she again broke off the kiss. Agnes opened her eyes, looking delicious in her confusion. Mouth open, eyes blinking, breath fast. Eliza stood up and back. Without taking her eyes off the prisoner, Eliza unbuckled the belt that held her equiptment, tossed it to the side. Then she reached down for Agnes hands, still floating in the air where Eliza’s hips had been.
She put those hands at the top of her uniform’s trousers.
“Take them off,” she said. It almost didn’t sound like an order. Almost.
From Agnes face, this was something she accepted but maybe dreaded. Unclasping the first button went slower than the second, which was slower than the third. She then stopped for a moment, doing a take. Good. She noticed something was different. Hands, this time trembling just a little bit, continued at the buttons. Three more, and the bright red dildo was released. Agnes almost jumped back!
“Good girl,” said Eliza. Shifting her weight a little, she made her trousers fall. Stepping out of them took a few moments, during which Agnes couldn’t take her eyes off Eliza’s tool. It hung out from just above her cunt, black straps holding it in place there. The look on Agnes’ face was priceless. Officer Park evidently didn’t use such toys. All the better. With one hand she reached down and aimed the dildo. The other went to the top of Agnes’ head. Just a little pressure–enough for her to understand.
“Open,” said Eliza.
Agnes hesitated for nearly one full second. Then she put her mouth on it. Her eyes were huge, looking up at Eliza.
“Now,” said Eliza, voice very low, “suck.”
Dreamily, Eliza watched her obey. Agnes let the knob get past her lips. Not far, but far enough to be beautiful. Then she pulled back a little. Next, the dildo went deeper by maybe a few millimeters. Barely enough to notice, but Eliza did. The girl repeated this several times, falling into a rhythm, and Eliza was entranced. She adored the little movements of Agnes’ head going up and down the shaft, was entranced by the way her cheeks puckered as she sucked, loved the sounds coming from that gorgeous mouth. Eliza felt her excitement rise everywhere and nowhere–all over her body but not centered any one place, which wasn’t true because she could also feel her pussy getting wetter. Yet her focus wasn’t even on her own body at all, but image before and below. Agnes. Her very own personal inmate. No, not hers. Not yet. But soon. Soon, her personal property.
Moments, minutes, hours later–as Agnes had begun making a few slurping noises while bobbing her head–Eliza sensed it was time. Her hands pulled Agnes away from the dildo. It gleamed now with her spit.
For a moment, Eliza said nothing. “Your lips,” she finally whispered. They were wet. So are mine. Hers will be too. They’re probably wet already. Soaking.
Agnes–good girl–said nothing but just watched Eliza’s face. “Strip,” said Eliza. She barely heard it. Maybe the girl read her lips, because she began to do as told. The remaining buttons of her inmate uniform she undid. Eliza stepped back to give her room, eyes glazed as they devoured every single action and inch of flesh. Standing, Agnes took the uniform off, tossed it onto the sofa. In her bra and panties she looked at the guard before her–who continued to stare, one hand holding the strap-on but the other now stroking her own breast through her own uniform. Agnes pulled off her bra. It joined her inmate frock. Eliza almost gasped. Those nipples! So hard now. So pointed and obviously in need!
Bending, Agnes slipped off the prison-issue panties. She tossed them with the rest of her clothes. Eliza hardly noticed. Instead she drank in the sight of the dark blonde curls between Agnes’ legs. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but some of those curls looked moist. She hoped it was no trick. Was willing to bet it wasn’t.
With barely more than a step Eliza crossed the distance between them. She grabbed the girl’s whole body in an embrace, locking her mouth onto Agnes’ in a fierce kiss, who welcomed it with a little gasp. But her mouth didn’t linger there. No, in seconds she’d traced wet kisses down the prisoner’s throat. With a hungry sound, she went to those tits, sucking them into her mouth and using her tongue against those pointed tips. She switched sides a few times, nibbling on each breast in turn. Agnes shuddered under th assault.
“Oh!” breathed the girl. “…oh…I…oh…OH!”
With one arm around Agnes’ waist and her mouth fastened onto a hot trembling tit, Eliza had run her hand up the girl’s thigh to that pussy.
Yes! Wet! And getting wetter! Eliza used her fingers, grinding them into the girl, rewarded as she responded perfectly. It was slight so far, but her hips most certainly began to move, answering Eliza’s strokes with her own.
Even more telling, Agnes was clasping Eliza to her. One hand was even pushing Eliza’s head and face into her breast. Holding on, while making little sounds of pleasure. Music.
But Eliza didn’t let her come. No. Part of this dance was anticipation, and she had mastered it. So far she’d barely allowed herself any direct stimulation, and if she could restrain herself so it was easy to hold off for Agnes. Too soon–or perfectly timed, depending on point of view–she pulled her fingers out of Agnes sopping pussy. The girl let out what was almost a wail in frustration. But her eyes were bright, watching Eliza straighten then lick her own fingers, tasting Agnes. Eliza did it deliberately, locking gaze with Agnes. She drew it out, sucking her fingers, running her lips along them. Soon the girl was breathing in tiny gasps at this vision. And she didnt hesitate when Eliza ordered “Get on the sofa. Legs wide.”
It took her barely two seconds. She lay on her back, pulled up her legs and held them there with both hands. Her time with Officer Park had taught her some things very well. But Eliza didn’t think it had really prepared her for what was happening. Not really. But that was for later. Right now, Eliza knelt and grabbed the thighs of the prisoner. Then, she clamped her mouth onto that pussy.
She treated it almost exactly as she had the girl’s tits. The lips were sucked into her mouth, the tongue snaking out and drumming against trembling flesh.
“UGHHH…” Agnes whined “…OOOHHH…!”
Eliza laughed, the sound muffled by the pussy in her mouth. This was perfect! Well, almost perfect. What she really wanted was a true virgin–a girl without any experience, especially with women, one she could seduce and introduce to pleasures never dreamt of. That was her ultimate fantasy, turning some complete innocent into a wanton. Agnes wasn’t quite that. She was reluctant, and that was good, clearly still afraid of the desires awakened in her, probably enjoying (without realizing it) the way she was being forced to submit to them. All of which made her delicious, wonderful, a genuine delight. But not perfect. Still, as Eliza proceeded to gobble her prisoner’s pussy, she was quite lovely and a joy.
So Eliza continued. She would suck Agnes’ pussy hard, pulling it into her mouth and gently biting her. Agnes let out guttural sounds and bucked her hips. Eliza fucked her, pushing her tongue again and again into Agnes, always pulling out against the clit. The prisoner responded as expected–she began to cry and smile and gasp and beg for more.
“…please…don’t stop…more…please…yes…yes…oh god, yes…please…”
Soon she was in enough of a frenzy that she wailed when Eliza did in fact stop.
“Please!” Her eyes and face looked feverish. “Please–don’t stop!”
“Baby,” said Eliza, repositioning herself. “I’m just beginning.” That’s when she put the tip of her strap-on against Agnes’ pussy. The girl’s eyes got huge, realizing Eliza wasn’t going to just eat her but actually fuck her. She waited and watched in perfect stillness.
But Eliza just stroked the dildo head against her wet pussy. Just let the tip run up and down that slit, picking up wetness as it did. The dildo was bright red, almost the color of blood. But those pussy lips, now swollen and soaking, were only little less red. Still, Eliza teased. Over and over again, she teased.
Finally, Agnes figured out what she needed to say. “Please fuck me,” she whispered.
“What was that, baby?” She’d heard it perfectly of course. But Eliza wanted her to say it again.
“Please,” repeated the girl, a little louder this time, “fuck me.”
Eliza stopped tracing the tip of the strap-on against Agnes’ pussy and looked up at the girl’s face. “You want me to fuck you, little girl?”
“Yes,” came the answer. “Please. Please fuck me.”
At that, Eliza carefully aimed her strap-on and leaned forward, but her eyes remained on Agnes’ face. She wanted to see the girl’s expression. Nor was she disappointed. Agnes’ eyes and mouth both grew larger as the dildo began to press. She trembled. Then, the knob got past the entrance and half the of it pushed deep inside! Agnes’ whole body arched, and her eyes rolled.
By now they were nearly face to face. Eliza grabbed Agnes by the shoulders and gave a push with her hips.
“OH GOD! Yes! Please!”
“Please what, baby? Tell me what you want. Come on…”
“More…please…I…I…fuck me some more…PLEASE!” She wailed.
“Okay, baby. I’ll fuck you good and hard. I’m gonna fuck you so good you’ll be glad you ended up in jail. Cause that’s what you want, isn’t it? To be fucked that good? Isn’t it? Come on, baby–isn’t it?”
She nodded her head–barely, shaking. Eliza thought: She believes she’s really given in. Well, let her. Later, she really will. That’s what counts.
Eliza began to fuck Agnes, not just hard but well. She didn’t simply push her tool into the girl, but made sure it ground into her. Circling motions with her hips as it went in and out increased Agnes’ pleasure, and she responded. Eyes wide–in shock, humiliation, joy. Whatever lovers she may have had on the outside, Eliza thought, probably never got this kind of response. Rocking in response to Eliza’s thrusts, Agnes wrapped her arms and legs around Eliza. She made sounds from deep inside. Grunts and gasps were the least of it.
And Eliza in turn groaned in pleasure to see it all. This was just foreplay as far as she was concerned, but Eliza still enjoyed it. She probably got more pleasure out of this than Agnes ever had from sex!.
Now, of course, Agnes was getting a new perspective–and it showed! Her hips undulated, thrusting back, sometimes using more force that Eliza. She kissed with real hunger, and licked Eliza’s throat with tiny mewling sounds. When Eliza began exploring Agnes’ ears with her own tongue–all amid the swaying rhythms of their fucking–Agnes whimpered and moved her hips harder, faster!
It was beautiful! Eliza even laughed–a gloating, cruel sound. Agnes, sweat now plastering hair to her face, squealed in reply.
She was ready. Eliza kissed her, sucking the girl’s tongue into her mouth. No reluctance any more–just surrender and pleasure. But that got followed by whimpers of protest as Eliza stopped thrusting. She put all her weight down, pushing herself deep into Agnes’ soaking cunt but leaving no room for movement. Agnes writhed under her, or tried to. She tried pulling back and forth, but there was nowhere to go. Soon, her whimpering took on a desperate edge.
“…please…” she begged, mouth still against Eliza’s “…please…”
For another few moments, Eliza said nothing, just savored the sweet frustration.
Agnes tried to move her hips, to resume the fucking, but Eliza kept her weight forward, refusing any room for action. She still kissed Agnes, though–whose arms and legs twitched with frustration. At last, Agnes began to cry. “…god…” she whispered “…please…I’m begging…please…fuck me…”
Laughing slightly, Eliza nibbled on her prisoner’s ear, earning another moan that became a sob.
“Turn over, baby,” said Eliza softly.
Agnes went still. The pause lasted maybe three or four entire seconds–each one feeling like an hour. No sound but Agnes’ and Eliza’s breathing. The words echoed, but only in their heads. Then, Eliza began to withdraw. She did it slowly, excrutiatingly so, and from Agnes’ shuddering reaction she might has well be scraping her nails somewhere in between agony and glory in the girl’s brain. Eyes wide open but unseeing, she arched her back and let out a soundless sigh, lasting as long as Eliza’s withdrawl. It seemed endless, and Eliza had a hard time not drooling. When the knob of the strap-on finally passed Agnes’ pussy lips, she gave a shudder. Leaning back, smiling in triumph, Eliza repeated herself. “Turn over, baby.”
Moments later, Agnes began to obey. Eliza stood up to give her room. Agnes turned to her side, then shakily got on her hands and knees. Her head went down, face against the sofa’s cushions, and her ass ended up in the air. Such a nice little ass–and a dripping wet pussy just there, available and defenseless.
Unable to resist, Eliza gave it a lick.
Agnes shuddered again, and moaned. Eliza ran her tongue from the flesh above (or below) the clit, the whole length of Agnes’ sopping cunt, then to the girl’s equally available asshole. A little gasp of surprise made Eliza smile. She wasted no time.
The strap-on slid inside Agnes’ pussy easily. Its tiny knob met hardly any resistance, and the sounds from Agnes herself were clearly those of welcome.
“…Oh, Yes!” Muffled against the sofa cushion. Repeated with the first thrust. “Oh YES!”
But Eliza pulled out again, with a cruel laugh. The prisoner whimpered a little, but didn’t protest. Eliza teased the tip of her strap-on against Agnes pussy lips again, enjoying the tease. She also took something out of her breast pocket. Pushing in, she penetrated Agnes again–who groaned in pleasure. Several quick thrusts followed, with welcoming whimpers from Agnes.
Then she pulled out once more. Agnes wailed a little, but not so much in protest this time. She’d caught on this was a dance–ecstasy delayed until it was torture, release made more intense because it was heightened by frustration. And submission.
On some level, Agnes had figured it out, or her flesh had. Perfect! With practiced skill, Eliza quickly coated her strap-on with lubricant. Time for Agnes to submit totally.
This time, she changed her position. “Baby,” she whispered, gloating “I’m gonna make you come so hard…!” And with that, she aimed the knobbed tip of her strap-on into Agnes’ asshole.
“Shhhhhhh….” commanded Eliza. “You’re mine, remember?” Once in position, she began to push.
“But…! WAIT!” Such a sweet panic in the girl’s voice now–but not as much you might expect. Not any more. Eliza did not wait. Instead, she put her weight into it. One hand reached over to grab between Agnes’ neck and shoulder. And…THRUST!
Eliza could feel the impulse to pull way. Her hand let her sense Agnes fighting the urge to struggle, to wiggle away from the invasion of her ass. But–she was also forcing herself to let it happen. Against the sofa, her hands clutched until the knuckles turned white. It took several moments, but the dildo managed to push its way into Agnes’ tightest opening. Suddenly, Eliza fell forward fully two inches! The dildo sank deep, impaling the prisoner. Agnes’ reaction became a high-pitched wail, muffled by the sofa’s pillow. Nor did she stop! Eliza listened, fascinated, as her prisoner continued to make long, weeping noises. But Eliza noticed she didn’t try to move, didn’t pull away. Soon, the sounds themselves began fading. Her moans lessened. On the sofa, her hands relaxed. Just a little bit, but some.
Slowly, Eliza repositioned her hands, then pushed herself back–slightly. Her dildo withdrew nearly an inch.
And Agnes groaned. Not in pain. Yes!
This time, she pushed forward, and got to feel the shuddering of Agnes’ whole form through the strap-on. Another tiny wail escaped her muffled mouth. Eliza pulled back, then pushed forward again. She did it again several more times, and each time Agnes reacted a little differently. Her moans sounded less like pain. The dildo slipped easier into her ass. Soon–she began to thrust back! Just a little, but Eliza knew what was happening, and smiled at what it meant.
Shifting her weight, Eliza reached down and in between her lovely prisoner’s legs. The pubic hair was more than wet. It was soaking! And with the touch of Eliza’s fingers, a new sound emerged from Agnes. She shifted her face to the side, and gasped in deep-throated pleasure.
“What did you say, baby?” Eliza hardly had to do more than whisper, her face was so close to Agnes’ ears. She really wanted to run her tongue along their insides, but she wasn’t quite close enough. “C’mon, baby…” she coaxed. Her fingers stroked the sodden pussy of her prisoner, while her hips kept violating the girl’s anus. She picked up the tempo. “Tell me.”
“What was that?”
Eliza stopped moving. Agnes writhed slightly, eager to continue. “Tell me what you said, baby. Tell me!”
“…please…!” Barely more than a gasp.
“…fuck…me…” Each word took a lot out of her. “…in…” The struggle to speak was music to Eliza. “…my…ass.”
She couldn’t help it–Eliza let out a moan of her own pleasure. And began thrusting again, still deeper and harder into Agnes. Fingers stroked the sensitive tissue between Agnes’ legs, in unison with the thrusts–now answered by Agnes’ own.
“…fuck me…in my ass…” she repeated like a mantra “…oh god…fuck me…Fuck Me!”
“I will baby” growled Eliza “You know I will!”
“Oh!” Agnes reacted to an increase in speed exactly as Eliza hoped. “Oh…God! GOD!!” Surrendering completely, Agnes began to thrust back. “FUCK ME! PLEASE–FUCK MY ASS! GOD! PLEASE!” After that, the sounds coming from her, while wonderful to hear, couldn’t be called words. Instead she simply groaned and wailed as sensation ripped through her body. She was trembling and even undulating, impaling herself on the dildo strapped to Eliza invaded and withdrew from her ass.
At last, with the longest moan yet, her entire body arched and tensed! Then–one huge shudder. And another! What came from her mouth then sounded halfway between a sob and a laugh. More, it lasted for what seemed like forever! It didn’t stop so much as fade away, and with it went the tension in Agnes’ body. She finally all-but-collapsed, gasping for air.
Eliza waited. This was part of the pleasure, too. Waiting for just the right moment. She waited and listened until Agnes’ breathing was nearing normal. Then, she began to pull the strap-on out of her ass.
“Oooooohhhhh!” A quivering was the way Agnes reacted. The little girl was likely sorry to feel it go.
“You did good,” Eliza murmured. “Very good.” She stroked the girl’s sweat-drenched back. A few muscles twitched in response. “So good.”
Agnes opened her eyes, met Eliza’s own. The guard smiled as she stood up and carefully unfastened the straps on her hips, let the harness fall and stepped out of it. Agnes never stopped watching, and Eliza herself enjoyed the attention. It was almost time, after all. She took a seat opposite her, pulling it from the table. This chair had arms, and Eliza deliberately spread her legs, resting each knee on one of them. Her pussy, by now dripping, was exposed. Agnes could hardly take her eyes off it.
“Come here, baby.” Eliza crooked her finger.
She didn’t hesitate long. Within four or five seconds, she had crawled–yes, crawled!–from the sofa and approached Eliza on bended knee. Agnes knelt between Eliza’s legs. She leaned forward, mouth open, hands resting on the inside of Eliza’s thighs. Eliza watched this with shining eyes, eager of the feel of that wet mouth.
It was taking too long. Seconds! So Eliza reached out and pulled Agnes face forward.
Lips! Tongue! YESSSS! Agnes not only placed her mouth right on Eliza’s pussy, she knew what to do! She sucked it, and flicked her tongue against the wet, swollen lips.
“…Uhhhhh!” Eliza just let the sound out of her mouth. This was so wonderful, to finally have this little girl between her legs, lapping and sucking! She held Agnes head, not cruelly but just enough to guide her. And she responded! On top of the wonderful sensations erupting now from Eliza’s groin, were the slurping noises coming from Agnes herself. She had been taught well! But even more telling was what Agnes did with her hands. They circled Eliza’s thighs, wrists resting atop them and fingers stroking the flesh there. Such a tender gesture! An eager one.
Eliza relaxed and rode the hot mouth of her prisoner, letting it–and her–drive her sense into ecstasy.
TO BE CONTINUED