0 comments/ 73093 views/ 22 favorites Defusing A Bomb By: krr1957 This story deals with themes of coercion and reluctant participation is a lesbian setting. If you think that you might find such material offensive please try another story. Chapter 1 I had done tours of duty in both Afghanistan and Iraq but neither had scared me as much as this. It was not too late. I could still walk away and no one would think any the worse of me. I checked myself in the hall mirror one last time. The GI Jane hairstyle had grown out and I had almost forgotten how lustrous, and just how dark, my hair was. It was still short but now expensively styled and it was hard to remember the last time I had worn full makeup. I had not been in a relationship for over two years. My mother had been a minor film star in her native Italy and I had inherited her natural beauty. In some ways the army regime of cropped hair and no makeup actually enhanced my looks but the nature of my job and the considerations of my rank were enough to put most men off. Oddly, there had been overtures made by two female officers at different times but, whilst I was flattered, I harboured no curiosity about a same sex relationship. The doorbell rang again, this time a little more impatiently, and I took a deep breath. They had offered a hotel suite but that only made it feel more sordid; I elected to use my own home to give myself something familiar to cling on to. I opened the door, not quite knowing what to expect but certainly not this. I am five feet nine, in stockinged feet, but, in her heels she stood a couple of inches taller. At a guess she was five or six years younger than me, certainly no more than mid-twenties, but she had an air of sophistication. I had laughed out loud when they asked me if I preferred blonde or brunette, as if it could possibly make a difference, but they had decided on the light haired option. She reminded me of someone, someone in Basra, but then I realised that I was thinking back to a film. I had watched it in an army marquee, the only woman in an audience of thirty, all sat battle ready. It was an old film; a comedy about a man who finds a magic mask which transforms him into a green-skinned super hero. She reminded me of the girl in the film. "Selina, you must be Christine..." She was well spoken, which was a relief, but it took me a second to respond to the false name that I had chosen for myself. She held out her hand, not to be shaken, but as if she expected me to kiss it. I stood to one side to let her in. "Where do you want to do this? The bedroom or living room?" For a moment she ignored the question and looked around my humble abode almost disdainfully which, given the circumstances, was a bit rich. "It's up to you." I indicated the living room and she walked through. It was a sparsely furnished room which was hardly surprising given that I had only lived there for days at a time over the past five years. "No television?" "I prefer to read." "I brought a couple of DVD's, just to set the mood, but no matter." She took in the simple furniture including my one indulgence an overlarge leather sofa set in front of the fireplace. I would often fall asleep over a book and I find it nice just to stretch out where I find myself. "Can I get you anything? A drink?" She looked down at the wine bottle already open on the table. "Wine would be nice." I filled a fresh glass, before replenishing my own, and handed it to her. "How do we go about this?" She did not answer immediately. She sat on the sofa and took a sip from her glass. "Well let's start with you undressing for me." It was not what I was expecting and my discomfort must have shown. She smiled "No need to be shy." I had been undressing in front of women, and men come to that, throughout my career, war zones are no respecters of privacy, but I had never felt this awkward. I slowly reached for the zip of my dress and, once again, asked myself why I had made the effort. I could have easily done this straight out of the shower wearing a robe. It might have been more appropriate. The dress fell to the floor and I was left standing in my new bra and pants. They were an expensive acquisition but I hoped I did not come across as trying too hard. "Very nice...now the rest." I took off the bra to reveal my breasts for her cool appraisal. "I love your nipples....chocolaty." I had my mothers Mediterranean complexion and my nipples were a contrasting shade of brown. I was not quite as well endowed as she had been but that was probably no bad thing given my active lifestyle. I slipped out of my panties and resisted the temptation to stand with my hands in front of me. Instead, I stood with hands on hips, perhaps in an unconscious effort to seize the initiative. I am proud of my body, a slim frame toned by many hours of exercise but not enough to threaten my femininity. She looked me up and down her eyes finally settling on my sex. I had shaved just before she arrived and I was still a little red. "You should try waxing." I was not sure if it was a suggestion or an insult but I had no time to dwell on it. She stood up from the sofa. "Come and undress me." This was the moment. I had been through it in my mind a hundred times but reality always has a way of finding you out. I moved closer to her and she turned her back to present her zip. The blue cocktail dress looked expensive and I suspected that it was a haut couture copy but, as I unfastened it, I saw the Gaultier label. I am no follower of fashion but I was suitably impressed. She stepped out of it, laid it carefully on the coffee table, and then stood to be admired. She had flawless pale skin but was a little too busty to be a catwalk model. At that moment she put me in mind of a bride. She was wearing a white camisole and matching panties along with white stockings and suspenders. "What do you think?" "Very nice." It was true, she was a very sexy young woman, but it did not make things any easier. She sat back down again and I could not help but notice that her nipples had come to two prominent points which had nothing to do with the ambient temperature. She smiled as she saw where I was looking and then she reached out for a scatter cushion which she dropped at her feet. "Come and make yourself comfortable." I had to will myself to move forward. At the outset I had not wanted any preamble but things were moving too fast. I took a hasty sip of wine and then knelt on the cushion. "You're very beautiful." She reached forward and gently stroked my hair and I flinched. She was only trying to help me relax but I did not welcome the intimacy. She raised an eyebrow and then shrugged slightly as if it was of no great moment. Then, almost perfunctorily, she slipped off her camisole. I was kneeling upright, at a level with her breasts, and, as if reading my mind "Totally natural I assure you" She was a lucky young woman to be so blessed. They were perfectly shaped, with a nice uplift, crowned with coral pink nipples which, at that moment, stood out rigidly. I could admire them in a purely aesthetic way but no picture or sculpture could convey their vitality. Against all my instincts I felt an urge to reach out and touch them. She smiled knowingly and I wondered just how many others had fallen under her spell. As I watched she took a nipple between her finger and thumb and teased it to even greater prominence. "Come here..." I wished that I had had time for a little more wine. Of course, there was nothing to stop me from pausing for another drink but I knew that, if I put this off, there was a chance that I would not go through with it at all. She released her nipple and raised her breast invitingly on the flat of her hand. For a second or two I could do nothing but stare at her immaculately manicured nails with their deep lustre which could only be achieved by the patient application of several coats of expensive varnish. I knew that these idle thoughts were simply a way of delaying the inevitable and I told myself to get on with it. "Gently now, don't rush." I had taken her nipple between my pursed lips and sucked. I was surprised that something so firm could be so sensitive. I used my tongue to confirm that it was, indeed, as rough textured as it seemed but my anatomical approach was not appreciated. "Just do the things you like having done to you." As she said it I felt my own nipples tingle and I tried to be a little more creative. I ran my tongue slowly around her clearly defined areola noting the boundary between smooth flesh and surprisingly heavy dimples. This was more to her liking and I felt her relax. Now that her nipple was wet it felt different again. It was as if it was recoiling from my tongue and it seemed natural to suck gently to bring it back under control. "That's better. Now you're turning me on." I felt a momentary swelling of pride but then remembered exactly what all of this was about. I continued for a minute or two before she coaxed me to move on to her other breast. I was obviously learning, as she gave a sigh of approval, but I needed to take another step. I took the teat between my teeth and paused. Few men, in my experience, really understand a woman's body but I had been lucky enough to meet one or two. I love that moment that comes just before a gentle bite where the pleasure teeters on the edge of pain. This is where I held her and she arched her back a little to meet me. I slowly nipped at her and was immediately transported back to school where I would idly bite the eraser at the top of a pencil. The resilience of her flesh was astonishing but she guided me. "Yes...yes...now...use your tongue..." With her nipple tightly clamped I brushed the tip with my tongue and instinct brought my thumb and finger to her other breast to apply a complementary pressure. We remained locked together and it felt good, for the present, to have control but that was about to change. "Enough...you're getting me hot and bothered. I pulled away to see that her nipples looked quite angry and the tops of her breasts were flushed red. "Take off my panties..." I had to go to my haunches to do it and there was something in that simple act of obeisance that jarred with me. I would never go down on a man on my knees. I was reluctant at the best of times and, if it happened at all, it happened in bed with me on top directing events. I found that my hands were trembling as I reached forward and I could not meet her eyes knowing for certain that I would find a look of amusement. Her panties were expensively silky and I took hold of them carefully before slowly drawing them down her legs which she brought together to help me out. I reached back blindly to put them on the table for my eyes were fixed on her knees. She allowed the tension to build for a couple of seconds and then she slowly opened her legs once more. It was theatrically done but she did it with an ease borne of long practice. With her legs bounding my body I could do nothing but stare at her sex. She had an incredibly pronounced mound. It was perfectly depilated and the light caught it as if it had been anointed with oil. I have no time for pornography and I had never been this close to another woman's sex; the only frame of reference I could use was my own body. My inner labia are quite prominent and clearly visible. Hers were hidden but gave the impression that they might burst forth at any moment. For the same reason my clitoris sits quite deep but I had the feeling that hers would break the surface with little effort. I imagined that simple, every day, routines would serve to stimulate her and I wondered if that would be a gift or a curse. I would never admit to anyone the number of times I have pressed myself against the machine as it goes through its spin cycle. "Do you like it?" I answered "Yes" reflexively but found that it was true. I have no idea what research had been done to choose this particular young woman but she had a beauty that overcame guilt. I was left with the feeling that anyone who was exposed to her would have succumbed. "Come closer..." I leaned inwards conscious of my pulse pounding at my temples. She had used perfume on her thighs. It was subtle but, once I was aware of it, I could not ignore its musky presence. I pulled up short, inches away, as she gently ran a fingertip along the length of her sex. This released a new scent, familiar from my own fingers, but it complemented her perfume almost perfectly to form a potent, heady, hybrid. For a second or two I wondered if it had been designed exclusively for her. Were such things possible? Her finger pressed a little deeper, adding more esters, and then she took it away altogether. Her sex had opened beneath her touch to reveal a glistening pink interior and I had to swallow to clear my mouth My senses were being assailed one at a time each falling to her raw sexuality. My nostrils were flared, my eyes were fixed, and I could not rid myself of the feeling that it was all calculated. She let the tension build, knowing that I was facing the greatest challenge of all, and then, with a perceptive smile she softly spoke the words that I dreaded to hear. "Lick it." I knew that if I had, at any time, suggested to my parents that I was gay they would have given me their unqualified support and so it was distressing that it was their faces that came to mind as I bent under a heavy sense of shame. I must have hesitated for a number of seconds but for her it was of no consequence. If I demurred she lost nothing and so she simply waited letting me wrestle with my own anguish. I held my breath and braced myself. I drew nearer still and forced my tongue between my lips touching the very tip of it to her sex. It was warm and pliant and I slipped just a little way inside. Having taken the first step I took a breath but, at such close quarters, her scent was even more intoxicating and with it came her taste. It was sharp on my tongue, not at all what I was expecting, and I slipped out. Gathering myself, I tried again. I pressed a little more boldly and went deeper. The inner heat of her came as a shock, and I wondered if this was common, but the taste I found here was altogether different. It was much richer, a little musty but not unpleasantly so. It was now more in keeping with the scent that enveloped me. I stayed still, assimilating the sensory input, but I knew that more was expected of me. I began to slowly lick along the length of her labia bending my head to start each long stroke from the base of her sex. . "That's nice..." Her labia seemed to cling to my tongue in a welcoming embrace and there was something soothing in what I was doing. I kept it up for some minutes and I was able to detach myself from reality but when I felt her body beginning to tremble almost imperceptibly I realised that I was getting to her. Without knowing why I plunged my tongue deep inside and she gave a heartfelt groan. She was so wet that she leaked and I found myself swallowing. I wanted to dislike it but there was something indefinable something just a little worrying. I tried to refocus on the mechanics of what I was doing. I moved upwards and she brought her hand down in anticipation. Using two fingers she pressed herself open to reveal the neat bud of her clitoris. I had never given much thought to the size of my clitoris. It was appreciably larger but hers but clearly no more sensitive. I licked with just the tip of my tongue and she started to moan almost immediately. I licked slowly in tight circles but it was hard to work by feel alone. I was guided by the tight hood which helped me to keep in bounds. My technique may have been lacking but the fact that I was an ingénue must have been a turn on for her. She started to raise her hips to meet me and urged me on but I found it hard to stay with her. "Suck me!" It was the obvious, natural, thing to do, had I surrendered to my instincts, but I had not been able to let go altogether. Now, I pursed my lips at the apex of her sex and sucked gently whilst darting my tongue rapidly. She immediately gave up any pretence of control. She continued to hold herself open but her free hand found its way to the back of my head and she held me tightly as her body started to jerk spasmodically. I felt attuned to her orgasm. I was pleased not just because I had been able to do it but, in some way, I shared her exultation. As soon as this thought was formed I felt a knot of fear in my stomach. As her climax ebbed she relaxed her grip on my head and then released me altogether. I rolled my head on my shoulders, to ease my neck muscles, and shaped to get up but she brought me up short. "We're not finished yet." I felt a flash of anger. I had come through the ordeal, and that was the goal that I had originally set for myself, but, without knowing it, she was right. I had to know how far things could go. Her sex looked different now. Her clitoris had retreated to its shell but her inner lips were still slightly open reminding me of petals about to draw together for the night. "Lick me gently." Now that the heat of the moment behind us it was harder to bring myself to do it. I gave a silent count to three and willed myself forward. Moisture had cooled her sex, making it less edifying, but the feel of my tongue was enough to warm her quickly. I worked my way over her mound, wondering how it could be so taut and smooth, but she wanted more. "Let me feel it inside." Oddly, it took a little more effort this time to broach the portal but it was to find that the empty well had been replenished. Her juices flowed over my tongue once more and her taste filled my mouth. As it did so I felt, for a second, just a little light-headed as if a drug had been administered. I stayed still with my tongue rooted and I was intrigued to feel her squeezing at me. This was no random contraction but a controlled rippling that seemed to pull me even further in only to flood me with more moisture. It was certainly a unique talent but, more than that, it served to arouse her. Over the next few minutes she grew noticeably hotter and as, from time to time, her thighs brushed my face I was aware of a fine sheen of perspiration. I was little more than a spectator as she held me close once more and I was helpless as she stimulated her clitoris by using the bridge of my nose. She was unhurried but I was becoming ever more uncomfortable. My knees and lower back were complaining and I knew that my tongue, just a little numb at that point, was going to hurt. I was also getting a little red in the face. As she grew more excited she had began to squeeze with her thighs to the extent that I was struggling to breathe properly. Finally, she squeezed and did not let go. My ears were pressed in a ringing silence and my nostrils were pinched closed. I took a desperate breath but only to fill my lungs with moisture laden air. I reached the point where I was about to fight her off but she had judged her moment. A sudden, painful, tightening heralded the onset of her second climax and, somewhere far off, I heard her crying out. For a few seconds I was a rag doll wrenched by the pleasurable palpitations which were racking her body and then it was over. She unclenched her legs and set me free as she slumped on the sofa breathing heavily. Nothing was said as we both recovered. Finally she sat up and straightened her hair. "You did well for your first time. It was really nice." I almost thanked her but thought better of it. She seemed unfazed and reached down to touch my face. Defusing A Bomb "Why don't you sit up here and let me do some work?" I looked at her blankly and she continued. "Look, I know it's not what you asked for but I promise you I'm good, very good; it's what I'm usually paid for and I'm being paid very generously for today's work." ! did not know what to say. She did not have to offer and I was touched by her kindness. She smiled at me conspiratorially. "I promise you. You'll never want a man again." For a few seconds I almost said yes but I knew if I did it would constitute some form of admission; another line would have been crossed. I got up and thanked her before offering her the use of the bathroom. When I finally closed the front door behind her it was with a secret tear in my eye. Chapter 2 I waited until the next morning before phoning in and I was put straight through to Dr. Swan. She had been against the plan from the outset but she was subject to the same discipline as I was. She sounded genuinely worried. "How did it go?" "As well as could be expected." "Are you feeling okay?" "I'm fine. I want to move to phase two as soon as possible." "That wouldn't be a good idea; I would counsel against it." I paused before I spoke again. "Look, if I don't do it now, today, I don't think I can go through with it." "If that's how you feel then I think it's important that you come in and see me. You need time to reflect. If you rush at this out of some misguided sense of loyalty you could do yourself lasting damage. You know my view. You've already done more than enough and the army owes you a huge debt of gratitude. They can find someone else to take this on." I was touched by her concern but I snapped at her. "I've taken the first step. Now I'm going to see it through. Get them to e-mail me the details." I put down the phone before she could attempt to dissuade me further and, not for the first time, I asked myself what the hell I was doing. The e-mail arrived half an hour later and I gave an ironic smile as I read it through. I wondered who had been designated to do the research and just what they made of it. The previous day I had felt the need to dress up to make myself attractive to another woman. Today was different. I dressed in jeans and trainers along with a plain jogging top. The address was in a part of town that discouraged me from taking my car and so I set out in good time to take a bus. The journey seemed interminable and gave me far too much time to think but once I got off the house was easy to find. It was an area of high rise social housing but local, liberal minded, politicians were insisting on a policy of building traditional homes. The house I wanted was one such set at the end of a relatively new terrace. I rang the doorbell, instinctively looking around as I did so. "You're late whitey." The woman standing in the doorway nearly filled it. She was about my height but probably weighed half as much again although the loose fitting house coat that she wore made it hard to tell. I knew I was a little early but I did not check my watch neither did I argue. She turned and walked back inside. "Are you just gonna stand there." I followed her in and was relieved to see that the house was well kept. Some of the furniture was past its best but everything looked clean and tidy. The living room benefited from a set of patio doors which let on to a small paved yard filled with planters. Even with the natural light it was hard to tell her age; mid thirties perhaps. There were some lines in her face but her brown eyes sparkled with life. Judging by her skin colour, and the few words she had spoken, I guessed that she originally hailed from the West Indies. As I made my appraisal she looked me up and down making an evaluation of her own. "De money first." I had still not said a word but I counted out the agreed sum into her hand. She folded the notes and slipped them into the pocket of her house coat. "You got a pretty mouth whitey. I hope you know how to use it." I felt my hackles rise but I fought it down. She, unlike Selina, had not been primed. As far as she knew I was just a regular client. "I tink you should be on your knees." I dropped to the floor, grateful for the thick rug, but, even now, I was contemplating not going through with it. There were no niceties. She simply began to unfasten the buttons of her coat. "Yam much younger dan de usual girls." I do not know why but I got the impression that she was exaggerating her accent but then I suppose it is what her clients expected. Having undone half of her buttons she paused. "Let me see those titties." I slipped my top off to reveal that I had not bothered with a bra. "De good Lord not seen fit to bless you." It was another calculated insult. I am proud of what I have and I had never had any complaints. My reaction was to kneel straight backed and unabashed but it is not what she would have expected of me. Instead, I slumped my shoulders and let my head drop a little. "Now this is a real pair..." She finished undoing the buttons and allowed the housecoat to fall open. Her breasts were held in place by an impressive red bra which she then struggled to unfasten. I guess that, once upon a time, her breasts would have been considered spectacular. They were certainly large enough but gravity had begun to rob them of pride. They now had a decided droop and even the nipples looked liked brown-faced Dali clocks. She gave me a moment to feast on the view and then she shucked off the coat altogether. Standing in just a pair of red pants she looked imposing. She was wide hipped with heavy thighs but slim calves suggested that she had looked better in her day. She still had something of a waist but a clearly defined crease marked the slight overhang of her belly. She stood, for a few seconds, with hands on hips and I wondered if I was expected to say something. I decided to remain silent and let her dictate events. She was unfazed and, just a little awkwardly, she removed her pants. "So what's it to be? You want a bit of breast or you goin' straight for de brown meat?" As she said it she rubbed a hand over her sex which lay deep between her thighs. I felt my stomach begin to rise and I took a deep breath. I wanted to be told what to do; I did not want to be confronted with choices but, at the finish, pragmatism won out. I wanted it over with as soon as possible. She stepped towards me, until we were just inches apart, and stood with her legs slightly apart. Things had seemed bad enough with Selina but this was something of a different order. It was sex in the raw and it was a trial that I had to undertake if I was to ultimately succeed. If Selina was light then this was darkness. This close to I could see the fine, almost invisible, line of hair which trailed from her navel and them slowly spread over the plane of her sex which was covered in a coarse black undergrowth. It was a growth that could not be contained and it extended outwards to cling to her upper thighs. It was frightening in itself but there, in the midst of it, was the feral carnality of her sex. She had long, plump, labia that seemed to be unsuccessfully reaching up through the canopy and, having failed, they had fallen back on themselves peeling apart a little to reveal a raw, vulnerable, pinkness. "Momma's waitin' princess." I would have been happy to make her wait forever. Were there really women who wanted this? The research showed that she had a select list of clients; all white society women, some whose names would raise an eyebrow. What possessed these privileged, moneyed, aristocrats to make their way to this seedy backwater simply to abase themselves? I closed my eyes and leaned forward. I could smell lavender, a reminder of the soap that my grandmother always used, but then it was something else a smell from the earth and not the flower. I wondered if she was in any way engaged with what she did, or if she simply played it out, and now I knew. The familiar scent rose from her thickly. "I'm cookin'. Can you smell that?" She smelt little different to Selina but my mind must have being playing tricks. Yesterday had been a light Beaujolais and today seemed like an oak-aged Bordeaux. Had she been looking forward to this? Had the prospect of fresh blood been enough to turn her on long before I arrived? I was reluctant to use my tongue but I knew it must be done. I shivered inwardly as I made a first fleeting contact with the spongy nest of curls. That slight disturbance was enough to waft a fresh draught of enriched air but I pushed through until I found her core. "Greedy, greedy. Your first taste of black pussy? It be something you'll be remembrin' a long, long, time. You'll be back to see momma, you'll see." Right then I hated her but how was she to know my ulterior motive? I licked at her labia but it was difficult as the untamed curls irritated my face. I tried to find a rhythm, anything to distract me, but she kept to her role. "No decent black girl degrade 'erself like dis but you whities was made for it." I ignored her as best I could, the whole point of this was to not let her get under my skin, but, perversely, the one way to do that was to lick her more tenderly. It was hot work. The pillars of her thighs radiated heat and my face was buried in a natural quilt but, over the next quarter of an hour, I licked slow and deep whilst she continued to toss out insults. She was not lubricating as freely as Selina, which I took as a blessing, but I was disturbed to find that, without thinking, I was actually seeking out her taste. I mentally shook myself to clear my head and then changed my position slightly. She was a little quieter now and I sensed the balance of power shifting. "Oh yes...you sweet bitch...you know 'ow to make momma feel good." Her labia resisted me as I eased upwards but her clitoris was not hard to find. It was not large but was surprisingly firm and felt like a small marble under my tongue. I began to lick at it but obviously not firmly enough for her liking. With a sudden movement she took a step forward and pressed my head backwards. I found myself bent beneath her staring up at the undersides of her pendulous breasts. "Come to momma...lick me you little bitch." She said it sotto voce, almost to herself, and cupped a hand behind my head just to make sure I understood. I was left with very little movement and it was now more a case of her rubbing her clitoris on the flat of my tongue. All the aches and pains of the day before were immediately revisited and I began to regret my rash decision. I prayed that she would come but she was not going to be hurried. She worked herself against my mouth abrading my face with her damp pubis in the process. She began to grunt, there was no other word for it, and then leaned forward over me. My head was pressed into the folds of her belly and breathing became difficult but the shuddering of her bulk told me that she had started to come. It was a long climax which ebbed and flowed but then it was over as quickly as it had started. She let me go and stepped away to stand with her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. "You done wore me out girl" I remained on my knees and was left looking at the broad spread of her backside. I could imagine her in tight jeans in years past, a prized booty, but no longer. Firm muscle was now comforted by a layer of fat that was there to stay. "Make some tea. You'll find the t'ings in de kitchen." I was anxious to leave but a drink sounded inviting; the taste of her was still cloying in my mouth. I reached for my discarded top but she forestalled me. "Leave it. We ain't finished yet. You's goin' to get value for your money." I seethed; nothing could be worth this but I clamed down and told myself that this was simply training and I had had to endure much worse. The kitchen was as neat and clean as the rest of the house. Tea, milk and sugar along with two cups were set neatly on a tray. To begin with I rinsed my mouth straight from the tap and only then made tea in a quaint china teapot. I carried out the tray and found her sitting on the sofa. She had slipped the house coat back over her shoulders but she had made no attempt to do it up. "Leave de tray. You take yours to de kitchen." I almost laughed as I imagined her regular clients relegated to scullery maids but a few more minutes to myself came as a relief. I sat at the small dining table and only as I sipped at my tea did I realise just how sore my tongue had become. I had half finished when my reverie was disturbed. "Get yourself out here." She had set her cup aside and was sat with her legs splayed; but for the housecoat she could have been an Amazonian princess. "Okay lady, this time me want it slow and tender...come and worship me." It took huge strength of will to go back to my knees again. Her sex was fully relaxed and a dribble of moisture had escaped her to stain the sofa. As I got closer I could smell her again but now it was a little riper and I realised that there was of the faint hint of stale perspiration. As I applied my weary tongue I was dismayed by the cold dampness of her pubis but I pressed on and sought out the warmth between her labia. The parallels between this encounter and my experience with Selina were obvious but I so wished that it was the young blonde that was in front of me now. She laid back and indolently stroked her own nipples as, for something approaching half an hour, I was expected to minister to her. For some of that time I zoned out but she immediately picked up on my perceived lack of application and admonished me. In the distance I could hear the gentle rush of passing traffic but the room itself was so quiet that I could hear every lick of my own tongue as it rasped through her curls mocked by the particularly loud ticking of a mantel clock which seemed to slow down time. Her second climax was as lazy as she was. She gave a deep sigh and only a welling of moisture signalled that she had, at last, had enough. "A new pet Auntie?" I almost fell off balance as I spun round to see who had spoken. The young woman standing there could only have been eighteen or nineteen. She was wearing a smart grey business suit and holding a leather document wallet. I could immediately see a family resemblance. She had a lighter complexion, and was elegantly slim but they shared the same mischievous eyes. If I was left in any doubt I only had to look at her breasts. They were enviably large and a pointer to what once might have been. I tried to get up but a meaty hand on the top of my head held me in place. "Claudine, what are you doing here at this time of the day?" "I don't have any lectures this afternoon. You said that I could come by to borrow the suitcase." "So I did, so I did." Claudine spoke with a cultured accent, and it was noticeable that her Aunts West Indian twang had mysteriously melted away, but she seemed completely unfazed by my presence. "Is she any good?" "She's new to it. She'll get better, but at least she's willing." They were talking about me as though I was not in the room and I found that I resented this more than anything that had happened to that point. "Why don't you give her a try?" Claudine looked at her watch before replying. "I shouldn't really, I'm meeting friends...well perhaps just a quick one." Her audacity left me dumbstruck but she had already put down her folder and was reaching for the button at her hip. The skirt was a kilt style and she unwound it before placing it carefully over the back of the chair. My head was spinning, as I tried to get a grip on reality, but I could not fail to notice her legs. She was not wearing hose and they had the lean suppleness of youth. She saw me looking and gave a knowing smle. She stood for a moment before reaching for her cream coloured panties and slipping them off over her high heels. Now that she was exposed I saw that she was completely shaved, and, on looking back, I wonder if it was this that tipped the scales. She sat down next to her aunt, completely unashamed, and even took hold of her hand to give it a gentle squeeze. "Thanks auntie. This will warm me up nicely. I'm meeting Derren later." "Get you girl. If you ever grow tired of that young man you send him right round to me." This suggestion that I was simply an adjunct, a glorified masturbation device, fired me with anger but this was, after all, what it was all about. "Show Claudine what you can do." Was I looking for an antidote to the nightmare that was her aunt? I could not say. I knelt between the younger woman's legs aware of her looking down at me. She rubbed a hand over her sex and I began to suspect that she had been watching us for longer than I thought. She was aroused from the outset and her sex opened with hardly any coaxing. Her labia were nicely symmetrical, dark at the tips but shading almost to gray before the sunburst of the moist interior. They drew the eye upwards to the point at which they formed a perfect cowl for the plump prominence of her clitoris. I began to lick, working first to the left and then to the right, opening her even wider, and only then did I apply myself to the succulent centre. For so it felt; the taste was so clean, so fresh; dare I say it? so youthful after the trials of her aunt. Common sense told me that, essentially, the taste was the same so why then was I so enthusiastic. I was lapping her whole sex with the flat of my tongue and she was squirming under the assault. "Oh shit! Yes!" The expletive seemed incongruous when expressed in her cultured tone but she lifted herself slightly from the sofa encouraging me to go deeper. I duly obliged and we remained locked together whilst I flexed my tongue inside her. For a few moments I was lost in a warm, wet, world of my own. It was strangely comforting but at the same time frightening. I could not shake the feeling that I was, in some way, fulfilling a desire of my own as much as hers. I was so absorbed that I missed the onset of her climax, and for a second I thought she had given a cry of pain, but her body arched pressing almost painfully against my face. I closed my mouth over her sex and found myself scooping my tongue inside her. I was rewarded with a fresh outpouring but the tip of my tongue had found a hidden trigger. She acted as if charged with electricity, her body shaking almost uncontrollably. I kept my tongue there as best I good trying to ride with her. Her orgasm seemed never ending and, through it all, I felt a twinge of envy. When, at last, she could take no more she slumped leadenly on the sofa but I did not stop licking. All my own aches and pains were forgotten as I slipped free only to alight upon her clitoris. It was reluctant to shed its cloak but I would not be denied. I worked the tip of my tongue within and applied a gentle circular pressure. At first she seemed not to notice, as she bathed in a warm afterglow, but, slowly but surely, a new wave of pleasure began to rise. To begin with she did not have the strength to embrace it but I would not take no for an answer. Her body began to writhe; at first in an effort to escape but, as it slowly took hold she began to work with me and I felt the firm bud swelling under my tongue. I put my arms under her thighs and lifted them on to my shoulders. She seemed taken by surprise but she began to gently squeeze at the sides of my head. In the warm enclosure all sound was lost but it was a welcoming stillness. Her second climax was not long in coming but it was a far more gentle affair. Nevertheless, I carried on licking bearing her upwards even when she wanted rest. Defusing A Bomb At the finish she pulled my arms away and opened her legs. She looked down at me with a beautiful smile. "Enough...you're killing me." Chapter 3 My sleep for the next few days was troubled. I had convinced myself all along that it was simply a matter of strength of will. It was something that I would force myself to do but afterwards it would be quickly forgotten and I would get on with my life. That was the theory. In reality my encounter with Claudine had touched something deep in my subconscious and I could not deny to myself that, for a brief moment, reluctance had given way to something akin to willing participation. For the first time I gave serious consideration to Dr. Swan's offer of professional counselling and even thought about finding a man for a one night stand. It was something I had never done before in my life and was a measure of my unease. Lack of sleep was that last thing I could afford and I was caught unawares when they came for me. The doorbell rang shrilly until I got up and answered it. The clock told me that it was 3.20 a.m. They did not allow me to gather any personal effects and bundled me out in my cotton night shorts and top. I was manhandled into a van and handcuffed to a seat in the rear. I asked no questions and they spoke not a word as we headed east towards the dawn. It was a two hour drive before we reached the facility which loomed before us like something from the imagination of Mervyn Peake. As we went through the gates I fought down a wave of fear as the reality of the situation came home to me. I was processed peremptorily and issued with a grey track suit and a poor fitting pair of training shoes. I was offered no food and was locked into a holding cell pending my induction into the general population. I slept as best I could and was served breakfast in my cell later that same morning. Shortly afterwards I was escorted into the main body of the facility conscious of every pair of eyes watching me. I was to be given a cell of my own for forty-eight hours only; once acclimatized I would be sharing like everyone else. The inevitable confrontation came sooner than I expected but in some ways I was glad. I was just changing after a shower in the communal block; there were others there but not one of them spoke to me and then they melted away. I was brushing my hair in the stainless steel wall mirror when I saw them behind me. I smiled to myself when I saw that there were three of them. As a military policewoman I had spent four weeks on secondment to a civilian prison before taking charge of a stockade in Helmand for six months; I knew the routine. The warders would not interfere. They would allow the natural hierarchy to impose itself so that everyone knew where they stood but they would allow no more than three. They did not want any unfortunate accidents. The leader of the pack stood in the middle. She was the tallest and looked to be of Slavic extraction. She was dressed in prison cell chic. She wore the standard track pants but had a grey tee shirt to show heavy muscles honed by hours in the gym. I also noticed the numerous tattoos and, not for the first time, I wondered at the mentality of a career criminal who chose to cover her skin with indelible identification marks. Standing to her right was a stocky woman of mixed race with close-cropped hair. She had a prison pallor and I guess she was actually younger than she appeared. She looked at me unblinkingly whilst she meaningfully rubbed the handle of the mop that she was holding. I saw that it was glistening wetly. The third women came as a surprise. I was expecting more muscle but she was a petite blonde pretty enough to grace the cover of a magazine. Even the baggy prison issue clothing could not disguise the fact that she had a very desirable body. I turned to face them and the Slavic women spoke first, her accent confirming my suspicion. "Give me a cigarette." I paused before I answered. "I don't smoke." She turned to the woman with the mop and smiled. I had just told her that I was fresh meat. Even those prisoners who do not smoke, and they are few and far between, know enough to take up their tobacco allowance. Inside, cigarettes are currency. "Come here." I did not immediately comply but then I cast my eyes downwards and walked over to her. "Look at me." I looked up and saw the cruel amusement in her eyes. "I want you to kneel. Then I want you to pull down my pants." I stood very still allowing the seconds to tick by. I had trained for this and I felt the rush of adrenalin. When she next spoke there was an added edge of anger to her voice. "You can make this easy on yourself. One way or another you are going to lick my pussy." I followed her eyes to the menacing mop and then to the blonde. She was holding a hairbrush and in a flash of movement she slashed it across the roller towel on the wall. It fell to the floor, cut through, and I now knew that she was the real danger. I still did nothing, only noting that, from the way she held herself, the Slav was left handed. I knew what was coming. She could have punched me but that would have been counter-productive. It would be a slap to the face; fast, hard, noisy, shocking and painful. Her open palm came at me surprisingly quickly but I was quicker and I met the inside of her forearm with the edge of my own hand. It took her a second to register the pain and the fact that her arm was numb. She immediately did the streetwise thing and put her good arm around my neck inviting the others to help. I let her take her grip but, as I guessed, she made a classic error. She stood with her legs apart to give herself a solid base. I brought my foot up behind me and jabbed the back of my heel between her legs. It is a manoeuvre guaranteed to disable a male assailant but done right it can be very painful for a woman too. She released my neck and clutched at her groin and I almost missed the sweep of the mop handle. It was aimed for my head with all thoughts of going easy on me now dismissed. I ducked under it and it caught my shoulder a glancing blow. Her body was well developed but, fortunately, she was muscle bound. She was slow with her second attempt and if she had had any sense she would have discarded it as a weapon altogether. Whilst she was still off balance I pivoted on one foot and kicked out with the other. It was a solid connection straight into her kidneys and she went down on one knee. I allowed my momentum to carry me a step or two away and waited for the blonde. She held the brush out in front of her so that I could see the sliver of razor embedded in it but I also saw fear in her eyes. Distasteful as it was I knew what I had to do. I turned to the Slav and kicked her twice in the stomach driving the wind from her body. I then turned to her companion. She was attempting to rise but a second sharp delivery to the back of her neck put her out flat on the floor. The blonde dropped her brush and looked at the door but she knew I would get there first. My intention had simply been to establish my physical credentials but I now saw a new way to embellish my reputation. "Get over here." She hesitated but another glance at the other two convinced her. She came towards me totally cowered. I handed her the mop and then pulled down the prone woman's pants. "Do it." When it was done I led her out of the showers and back to my cell. Nobody attempted to stop us. I was seriously pumped up and for a minute or two I simply tried to get my breathing back to normal. Since taking up a desk job with military intelligence I had not been as diligent in keeping up my martial arts skills and it had been a long time since I had actually been called upon to use them in anger. The blonde stood in the corner of the cell without saying a word. She was too pretty for her own good and I had a reasonable idea how she was buying herself protection. Now was the time to put my theory to the test. "So whose bitch are you now?" She looked terrified. Things had clearly not gone to plan and she now had an important decision to make. She slowly came towards me and, without a word, she knelt at my feet. She undid the velcro fastenings of my shoes and I lifted my feet to allow her to take them off. Then, almost reverentially, she took hold of my jogging pants. I should have remained detached, seen it simply as a means to an end, but my heart was racing. She eased the pants, and my standard issue underwear, down my legs in one piece and I stepped out of them. I then made her wait for a moment whilst I quickly stripped off my top so that I stood before her totally naked. She knew, as I did, about the unofficial three point induction plan. This was step two 'to the victor the spoils'; the warders would not disturb us. At first she did nothing. She simply looked me up and down and I tried to read her thoughts. She might have had experience with other women before she came into prison but I suspected that she was, like many other pretty young things, simply doing what she needed to do to survive. She reached forward and gently stroked my thigh, sending a shiver through my body, before she ran the back of a single finger over my smooth mound. It seemed to fascinate her and only then did it occur to me. I may not rank as classically beautiful but compared to the Slavic woman and her stocky companion I must have seemed like manna from heaven. Somehow, even in prison, the gym freaks managed to obtain their fix of steroids with all of the resultant effects on their bodies. She continued to run her fingers lightly over my body for some minutes and, notwithstanding the ambient warmth, I felt goosebumps rising on my skin. She focused mainly on my thighs but, now and again, she reached up my stomach with a touch so delicate I could only just feel it. I became aware of my body in a way that was new to me and it came as a shock when I felt a single bead of moisture slowly escaping my sex to tease my perineum. The slightest of smiles crossed her face and she raised her nose fractionally before taking an audible breath. I had not noticed, until then, the extent to which the scent of my own arousal had begun to pervade the room. She hooked a single finger beneath me and caught up the droplet. She then held it up for me to see before taking it into her mouth. Her face suggested that it was the most beautiful thing she had ever tasted and, whilst I knew that it was in her best interests to be theatrical, I was, nevertheless, touched. She began to nuzzle my legs with the side of her face and I was drawn to run my fingers through her silken blonde hair whilst her hands were pressed to the backs of my thighs subliminally casting me in the role of her protector. She turned her face and pressed her cute nose against my sex before giving it a playful wriggle. I immediately felt myself opening and she breathed me in again. It was so erotically charged. No one had ever done that to me before. She pulled away gently with a soft squelch and presented her tongue. My labia were swollen, crying out for attention, but she was not to be hurried. She began to lap around my mound going down as far the crease in my thigh and up almost to my navel. After a few minutes of this I was nearly mad with frustration, and I was tempted to pull her on to me, but I sensed that, left to her own devices, she would lift me to a new level of experience. Gradually, the circle that she was drawing with her tongue contracted until all her attention was centred on my mound itself but she still avoided my labia. I had begun to leak and she dipped periodically to stem the flow with long sweeps of her tongue which almost had me swooning. For the most part she was very quiet but each time she licked beneath me she groaned appreciatively. When she did, finally, come to my labia it was only to brush the very fringes with a series of butterfly touches and I stood absolutely still so that I could appreciate the tiny pulses of arousal that this created. Time was lost to me as she continued with infinite patience but the tension was causing my body to cramp in expectation. She understood this and, without breaking off, she began to gently massage the backs of my thighs with her fingertips. My head seemed to tip back on my shoulders of its own accord causing my hips to move forward fractionally. She, for her part, did not move with the result that her tongue delved a little deeper. The sudden heat and the welcome pressure was almost too much and I felt my knees threaten to buckle. She whispered to me. "Lie down." I needed no second bidding. I laid down on the spartan bunk whilst she eased the single pillow beneath my hips. She knelt, half on and half off of the bed, and smiled up at me from between my parted legs before she reapplied herself. She resumed with the same gossamer sweeps of her tongue which instilled a soporific state of bliss. I do not know how long it went on. Thirty minutes? An hour? I did not want it to end but at the same time I could feel the familiar inner contractions that were the usual harbingers of my climax. I looked down at her and felt a warm glow at the look of intensity on her face. Then I gently touched her cheek and whispered. "Please..." She stopped for a moment to open her eyes and look up at me. It was a look of puzzlement but then I saw the tear form in the corner of her eye. I understood and I wondered when last, in this closed world of demands, anyone had politely asked of her. She opened her mouth wide and I thought that she would devour me but she formed a loose seal and, as she sucked gently, her tongue crossed the threshold. I was suddenly aware of the warmth and softness of her mouth and it was as if this had never been done to me before. This was no blind stumbling. This was someone who understood the nuances of my body. Even as the tip of her tongue moved slowly deeper it curled and uncurled flexing my labia as it went. She seemed able to seek out secret switches on the walls of my sex causing me to well with moisture and I found myself focused there. I followed every subtle movement and with each passing minute my climax was ratcheting up to a new level of intensity. I could come at any instant, she had only to trip the final switch. I do not think that I had ever been so aware of my clitoris. I could feel it, swollen, hyper-sensitive, crying out to her but she knew better. The tip of her tongue began to probe. It was seeking out a single point high in my sex, behind my clitoris. She skirted it once or twice and I had my first inkling. I involuntarily gasped a breath and held it until she found her goal. Everything seemed to happen at once. My body stiffened and tears started to my eyes as a climax, the like of which I had never known, zinged through every part of my body. I had no control over it. My head came up from the bunk on neck muscles that had a mind of their own as every last atom of pleasure was squeezed from me. At the finish I must have blacked out for a few seconds, the first time it had ever happened to me, for the next thing I knew my body was slumped as she tenderly preened my sex with her tongue. For some time I did not have the strength to move, I simply lay there as she continued to minister to me. After some while she touched my thigh to get my attention. "Turn over for me." I smiled at her. "It's okay. You've done enough." "No, really...I'd like to." I doubted, very much, that she could tease another orgasm from me; I felt all in but I did as she asked. As I changed my position she took the pillow and doubled it over so that my hips were raised even higher and I interlaced my fingers beneath my chin. She started, as before, with long sweeps of her tongue exploring the contours of my body and, every now and again, she would surprise me by bringing her fingers into play. With my eyes closed I tried to anticipate her movements but there was no obvious pattern, she just knew the right place to caress at any given moment. Before too long I found myself lifting my body invitingly and I knew that my sex must have been obscenely on display. She did not disappoint. She curled her tongue and drew it upwards parting my labia as she did so. It was an odd, but arousing, sensation. She continued in the same manner and I was a little embarrassed by the sounds of my own increasing wetness. She was in no way disconcerted and did not falter as she swallowed all that I had to give. I could feel my sex dilating, inviting her deeper, but, at the same time my neglected clitoris was in desperate need of attention. She teased me for a few moments more and then she went low. The touch of her tongue on the tight-strung bud of nerve endings was assured. At first she did not move. She simply stayed in place, allowing my fluttering pulse to create the required friction, but then she stretched just a little. The tip of her tongue flicked at the top of my clitoris and then teased more positively at the base. She repeated the movement over and over and I started to pant for breath. She seemed to know me better than I knew myself. My own fingers had not found the tiny pleasure points that she now revealed and I had to bite on my own hand to stifle the scream of ecstasy that broke from me as the dam burst. She had no mercy. She licked me through it and beyond orchestrating the waves of pleasure that buoyed me up and finally left me completely wrung out. A while later I was brought back to reality as she finally left off altogether and slid away from the bed. "I have to go...." I watched her go without a word, wondering what she was going back to, but there was no room for remorse. I picked up a training shoe from the floor, broke the stiffening in the heel, and then idly squeezed it in my closed fist whilst I stared at the ceiling and lost myself in thought. Chapter 4 I was left alone that night but they came for me the next morning. I was washed, dressed and ready as I could be. I followed them along the landing to the main door of the block and from there to the administration building. Again, all the eyes had followed me but now there was a new sense of respect and, from some, a touch of sympathy. This was stage three of the unofficial induction plan and they all knew what that meant. I was escorted to the office of the deputy governor and my two guards stood in the room with me awaiting her arrival. It was a case of little and large. One guard towered over me and probably outweighed me by fifty pounds. She had a plain, careworn, face and I guessed that she looked older than her actual years. I had her down as a career prison officer and guessed that she was somewhere in her late twenties. The other was an enigma. She obviously came from somewhere on the Indian subcontinent, making her a rarity in the service, but she also wore more makeup than was usual for the custodial staff. She was an extremely good looking young woman and my best guess was that she might have been a graduate trainee doing her time on the floor of the prison before moving on to better things. I was left with little time to ponder as the door opened and the deputy governor herself walked in. As she moved to her desk she paused and sniffed the air. "Is there a problem with the drains? I think I smell shit." I knew better than to look her in the eye but I had been trained to make instant appraisals. She was around five feet four, slim build, maybe forty years old. A white blouse and dark pencil skirt hinted at a honed body. One technique we were taught, when trying to build up a mental picture at a glance, was to associate the features with somebody famous. For her I would have had to have said Elizabeth Taylor. Defusing A Bomb She had sculpted eyebrows over deep blue eyes and sported pillar box red lipstick. Her tightly curled black hair was cut short but stylishly and she could have used the same hairdresser as me. She picked up my file which contained a single sheet. I knew that it did not even give details of my crime, which must have puzzled her, but paperwork often lagged behind especially if someone had to be incarcerated in a hurry. She looked up from the sheet and glanced at the bigger guard. The breath left my body as she punched me squarely in the back. In spite of everything I almost turned on her but I held myself in check. I could protect myself against other inmates, that would be tolerated, but this was stage three. No matter how high my status rose behind the bars I had to learn that I was totally beholden to this woman and her staff. The guard was surprisingly limber and I fell to my knees when she caught me in the back of the thigh with a well delivered kick. Now that I was safely kneeling she came back round from behind her desk and stood in front of me. "I understand that you had a little fun with Simmon's yesterday. She's the blonde by the way, the one you didn't brutalize. Now, I'm easy going, As long as things run smoothly, and everybody knows their place, I'm prepared to turn a blind eye..." She paused for effect and then continued. "...but, I think it's only fair that, since you had such a good time, you ought to show your gratitude." I said nothing but then I was not expected to. I knew what was coming. She looked down at me as she slipped the slim leather belt from the loops of her skirt before taking it off altogether. "Take them off...and don't you dare touch me with your hands." I was looking at a pair of everyday, black, cotton panties. She could have removed them before she came into the room but this was all part of the process to grind me down. I knew, as soon as I agreed to take on the job, that a moment like this was almost certain to come. The service has more than its fair share of lesbians many of them able to abuse their senior positions. The fact that I had tried to prepare myself beforehand did not make it any easier. I leaned forward and awkwardly took her panties between my teeth and she offered no help as I worked them down her legs. She maintained a detached demeanour but my nose told me that she was aroused from the outset. She stood with her legs a little apart allowing me to take in her sex which was covered with a closely trimmed growth of black hair. It was only as she stroked it that I noticed her wedding band. Of course, it may have been possible that her partner was another woman but I suspected not. I was now in a position to glance at the framed photograph on her desk which showed her with a young girl perhaps three years old. The likeness was too strong for it to be anyone other than her daughter. "Show me what you can do." I was angry that I was put in this position but the more so knowing that she probably enjoyed a regular family life. Why could she not be content with what she had? I eased closer and took what little comfort I could. At least she had turned out to be an attractive woman. Her sex appeared tight but it opened under the first sweep of my tongue. Her inner lips, now revealed, were larger than I imagined and there was an indefinable softness. I wondered if this was, perhaps, something to do with motherhood. She immediately leaked moisture and I swallowed as I worked my tongue deeper inside her. Here, unexpectedly, I found that her muscles were strong and I felt my tongue caught in a firm grip. She relaxed after a moment, having let me know who was in control, and I worked my tongue slowly over the whole of her sex. She showed no obvious signs of arousal, other than a slow release of moisture, and she placed a hand on the top of my head to partially restrict my movements. "Come on. Don't take all day. You can do better than that." The taunt got to me and I had to consciously reassert my self control. Previously, it had been a woman paid to play a role, albeit I felt that the performance had some roots in a genuine convictionf, but this was an act of wanton cruelty. I could imagine other new inmates, here on their knees, being brought to tears. I tried for her clitoris, hoping to get it over and done with, but she anticipated my desire. As I readjusted my position she moved with me. She stepped forward, forcing my head back, and settling her sex over my mouth. The strain on my neck was immediate and there was no question of being able to do as I wished. "If you're not going to do it properly get your tongue inside and I'll come on your face." I wanted to defy her but, for the sake of everything, I had to endure. Besides, by pushing my tongue inside I eased the tension in my jaw. She began to grind herself on me, the shorts hairs scratching my face. It did not take long. She put a hand behind my head and pulled me tighter still as, with a sharp exhalation, she started to come. It was almost perfunctory, as if she simply had a point to prove, but then, of course, she had a wealth of far more talented tongues than mine to call on at any time she wished. I was just pleased to get it over with but I knew better than to get up before I was told. I knelt there as she cleaned herself with some tissues and then dressed unhurriedly. She took a seat at her desk, as if nothing untoward had transpired, and looked directly at me. "Your charge sheet has yet to arrive but I have instructions to hold you on B Wing. This is where we house our non-nationals and those charged with terrorist activities. The Senior Officer on B Wing is Officer Mullens and you will want to do everything in your power to stay on the right side of her." A flick of her eyes over my right shoulder in the direction of the larger guard suggested that Officer Mullens had just borne witness to my degradation and that I had already had a taste of her method of discipline. "Thank you ma'am." I cast my eyes downwards as I acknowledged her desperate to be dismissed but I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder. "Lie down." I felt my stomach turning over as I looked to the side. Whilst I was engaged with the deputy governor Mullens had silently undressed. She was not a pretty sight to behold. She looked as if she had worked out at some stage but had long since given up. Her pale shoulders were rounded and the flesh on her arms hung a little loosely from wasted muscles. Her breasts looked as if they were strangers to one another. One appeared heavier than its companion and her nipples were so pale that they melted into the surrounding skin. Worse still, she had a pronounced belly and fleshy thighs in the midst of which her sex was deep set with an untidy thatch of mousey hair. I looked at the deputy governor but there was no mercy from that quarter. Her face bore a mean smile suggesting that she was enjoying my plight. I wanted to stop it there and then but I was dug in way too deep. No one, including the governor herself, knew who I really was or my true purpose. I was allowed one phone call a week but there was no knowing when it could be taken; it might even be denied altogether. The only certain trigger was my weekly visitation rights. If I failed to show, for whatever reason, they would immediately come and get me out but, until then, I was on my own. Every instinct cried out to me to hold my ground and fight if needs be but I was under no illusions. I could hurt them, hold them off for a while, but this was their domain and they would prevail eventually and only make it worse for me. I felt myself trembling as I did as she asked. I lay stiffly trying to force myself to relax. She loomed over me, blocking the light, and then she straddled my body. She waited a second or two before dropping to her knees with a grace that her bulk belied. She took my hands in hers and pushed them up over my head. For a second I resisted but, seeing the dark look in her eyes, I immediately thought better of it. With my arms so placed she moved forward and pinned them with her knees. It was a frightening moment. Her thighs hemmed me in, allowing little movement, and my face felt horribly vulnerable. I could still do some damage with my knees but I doubted my ability to buck her off altogether. Her flesh was warm and clammy but at least she smelt clean. I was guessing that she used a lemon shower gel. "You know the drill" She smiled for the first time but it was an expression hardly worthy of the name. She eased up over me, her shins pressing down painfully onto my arms. I could no longer see her face. My vision was filled by the sight of her unruly sex and the alarming overhang of her belly. It was harder to breathe and the citric fragrance could not hold its own against a more oppressive scent which slowly filled the enclosed space. She let herself sink until my face was brushed by the cold dampness of her pubis. She wanted me to know that she had been preparing herself even while I was on my knees to her boss. It felt disgusting and the only solution was to lift my head and lick at her. She did not need much encouragement and I was soon receiving a warmer offering. As I licked she relaxed and sank lower still so that her weight began to press on my face. In so doing her sex became deformed as if it too had given up any pretext of being toned. I found myself licking in a hot, formless, wetness with only the tangled growth giving me any idea of my bearings. I quickly began to perspire but her corpulence trapped the heat raising the temperature degree by slow degree. Even the air that I breathed seemed heated. My discomfort was of no consequence to her. My efforts may have been clumsy but she seemed to be enjoying it nevertheless. My problem was that, as her excitement grew, her movements became less controlled. She was no longer simply bearing down; she had begun to gyrate her heavy hips and was working herself over my whole face with my perspiration adding to her own natural lubrication. Her scent was so overpowering that my olfactory senses closed it out but it seemed to starve the air of oxygen. I was breathing hard and feared that I might hyperventilate. I had long since closed my eyes and my hearing was hampered by her tightening thighs but I could not shut myself off. My head was being jarred against the solid floor keeping me in my living nightmare. I was at the point of using my teeth, if only to remind her that I was human, when she came to a sudden stop. Her whole body tensed, her sex centred on my mouth, and than I felt it pulse. It was a fluttering rhythm which gave way to a series of strong regular beats which left her panting for breath as her sex begrudgingly yielded up a few last pungent drops of moisture. My wet face was chilled by fresh air as she rose suddenly. I immediately opened my eyes but only to see the beads of perspiration which had formed in the valley of her breasts to run down over the mound of her belly. I felt queasy but there was a hideous possibility that she was not yet sated. Fortunately for me she began to get dressed but I had sudden dread that I might wake up in the night only to find her standing over my bunk. I sat up a little too quickly and sparks flashed before my eyes. I wanted nothing more than to go and soak my face in cold water but there was one last hurdle to overcome. I stole a glance at the Indian girl and tried to gauge her reaction. She looked a little apprehensive but at the same time there was flush of excitement about her cheeks. "You haven't been introduced. This is Officer Voralia. She has joined us straight from University and she represents the new face of the prison system. We are hoping to teach her that the tried and trusted methods still have lot to recommend them." I felt just a little sorry for her. I Imagined her as a bright eyed idealist and I wondered how long it would be before her spirit was broken but even as I was processing this thought she confounded me. Something unsaid passed between her and the deputy governor and to my consternation she reached under her uniform to remove a white pair of panties. "Think of it as welcoming her to the service." Voralia could not meet my eye but I saw enough to recognise that this was indeed her first time. There were two guest chairs in front of the desk and, without a word, she sat down in one of them. She attempted to speak but she faltered and had to clear her throat and start again. "Come here." I wanted to slap her, to teach her some manners, but more than that I wanted to talk to her to try and persuade her to hold true to her own principles. To actually try to do so would have been futile under the circumstances but I wanted her to look at me and see how wrong it was. She kept her eyes steadfastly fixed at the level of my chest. "Down on your knees and make me come." The words sounded so wrong from her mouth but I could also hear the excitement in her voice. Like it or not I was going to have to do as she asked. She made no attempt to lift her skirt or otherwise move it out of the way and so I had no option other than to duck beneath it. She was wearing black stay up stockings which contrasted with the light tan of her inner thighs. I was not sure what I was expecting, clean shaven or a heavy growth, certainly not a mix of both. Her sex itself was bare but it was surmounted by a thick, sculpted, triangle of red black hair. More surprising still was the presence of a tattoo above her groin. It was very small and appeared to be a single word delicately formed in Sanskrit. I was still coming to terms with this suggestion of an all together different character when she shifted forward slightly in her seat. Her inner labia stood proud and, even as I watched, they seemed to swell slightly. Like reluctant lovers they slowly parted and a runnel of clear, viscous, moisture seeped into view. It flowed beneath her, lost to sight, but manifested itself as a quickly darkening stain on the seat of her skirt. With a worrying sense of déjà vu I put out my tongue and gently caught up the flow from the dark fringes of her lips. In terms of femininity she was the very antithesis of her colleague and I feared that I was embracing her as a form of catharsis. Her body trembled at my first touch, almost as if frightened, and I found myself tending to her with a becoming delicacy. I lapped her so gently that, for some seconds, we were joined only by a single drop of moisture. She could not take it for long and she grew bolder. "Lick me.." It was a hoarse whisper and I was happy to comply. The strain of keeping my tongue under such tight control was beginning to tell and I welcomed the opportunity to relax a little. I licked along the whole length of her sex opening the floodgates as I did so. She was rich with moisture and the fact that I could go at my own pace and breath normally seemed to confer upon it a honeyed sweetness. For a few moments my mind drifted. Everyone else was shut out and it was just we two but I was snapped back to harsh reality by a sudden blaze of light. There was an angle-poise lamp on the desk and the deputy governor had positioned it so that it shone directly on me before switching it on. Voralia, too, was taken by surprise but her skirt still did something to protect her modesty and she quickly readjusted. She put a hand to the back of my head to ensure that I did not stop and then she settled once more. She came quickly after that, as if fearing that she would be denied, but apart from a slightly increased tension in her body and a sudden wetness there was no obvious sign. Then I realised that she was going to be greedy. The others remained unaware as she continued to hold me in place. I suppose I could have objected but what would have been the point. I think that even if they had known they would have indulged her anyway. For some minutes her sex was relaxed and continued to leak but the efforts of my aching tongue were eventually rewarded. She squeezed me with her thighs and I took this as a signal that she was ready. I eased onto her clitoris but this placed my nose in the tight bush of curls at the summit. It was heavily laden with her scent and every movement increased its potency. I feared that, even now, it would take her some time to come but I underestimated the degree of excitement that she felt in simply having me there to do her bidding. It was just as well. The heat beneath the close confines of her heavy skirt, exacerbated by the proximity of the lamp, was getting to me. Her clitoris was well hidden but she was so sensitized that the mere pressure of my tongue was enough. As her climax took her she stretched her legs and crossed her ankles behind my back. She then applied a steady and consistent pressure until it was over and she had no more to give. Chapter 5 I was escorted back to my cell where I lay on my bunk and absent mindedly squeezed my training shoe. I had decided that, for better or worse, I was going to bring things to a head. I idled in the showers the following morning and waited for Simmons to appear. No one came near me and I reckoned that I had a couple of days before anyone would try again. I was pleased to see that Simmons came in alone but she panicked as I approached her. "Please, I can't be seen with you." "You don't have to be. Just answer me one question. Which cell is Cheng in?" She blanched at the question. "How do you know about her?" "You don't need to know. Just answer the question." She looked around at the empty shower room and I could see she was trembling. "She's in 204...I have to go." She left without showering and I gave it a few moments before following her out. I quickly established that I could not get to 204 until I was in a shared cell and so I had to endure another frustrating twenty-four hours. I took my meals at a separate table in the dining room and I was pleased to see that my reputation had preceded me. The other inmates were wary and unsure what to make of me. The next morning, in the shower block, my antennae twitched; so much so that I contented myself with a wash. I was reasonably confident that, if anyone tried anything, the warders would now intervene but it was better to be safe than sorry. I turned to leave only to see Simmons come into the room. She looked very scared. With her eyes fixed to the floor she walked into the middle of the room and stood stock still. I half expected to see her erstwhile friends come in behind her but the woman who entered was hewn from a different stone. I had studied her file for days and felt that I already knew her. If asked to describe a psychopath this is not the picture that would come to mind. She was of medium height with a slight build but her superb muscle tone was obvious from the easy way that she held herself. She had flat, oriental, features but her large eyes and full mouth gave her an almost ethereal beauty. In another world she could have been a geisha but since her incarceration she was known to be responsible for one murder and at least two brutal beatings. She had also been clever enough to distance herself from all three incidents. "Someone was asking for Cheng." It was an American accent completely devoid of emotion. I waited for the space of a few heartbeats before I replied and I was amazed at my own state of calm. "That would be me." She moved closer to Simmons and looked at me askance. "Should I know you?" I allowed another pause before answering. "I'm your nemesis." Defusing A Bomb A slight widening of the eye was the only outward sign that I had made her think. She was dressed, as I was, in the standard issue nightwear of grey cotton shorts and tee shirt and she too was barefoot on the damp floor. She took a slow, deliberate, step away from Simmons and then became a fluid fury. I had never seen anyone move so fast. It was literally a blur as her leg straightened in its movement through the air. She stopped for a split second with her toe touching Simmons ear and then the noise was percussive as she delivered three short armed punches which, had they connected, would have killed her stone dead. She smiled, having made her point. Knives were useless. It would take a gun or sheer weight of numbers to bring her down and I had neither. I picked up my shoes, as if I had thought better of it, but her expression told me that I was not going to get away with it that easily. She was going to teach me a lesson...but I was now more confident than ever. Her style was a mix of northern and southern "fist". It was the style that she had been taught in the Chinese military. It was highly effective but its patterns were rigidly dictated by the martial manual. Her eyes flicked to my shoes, one in each hand, and dismissed them as an encumbrance. Hard to hold and with no great weight they were useless as a weapon. Nevertheless I lifted my right hand threateningly. As she had been taught, she arched away slightly and then her foot came at me with terrifying speed. It missed my head, but only just, and for an instant I feared that I had underestimated her. Instinct took over, I could never beat her in a straight fight but I had practised this one move and its variants for weeks. Having moved my head I allowed my momentum to take me to the floor. It was not what she was expecting but her training dictated the response. She braced her arm to deliver the short punch that would break my ribs but I brought my left hand through. The shoes heel was completely softened allowing me to get a solid grip and the weight was provided by a packing of solid prison soap. She registered the movement and instantly computed the outcome. She expected to receive a sharp slap but, a fraction of a second later, I would be finished. Her face seemed to deform in disbelief as a sharp snap told her that her arm had been broken but it was not over. She was still lethal but I had already discarded the shoe and now I punched her in exactly the same spot. It was this second shock to the nervous system that slowed her enough for me to gain a slight advantage. I rolled to my feet and she reflexively took up a defensive stance protecting her head. This was another mistake. It made her arm vulnerable and two more punches turned a simple break into a serious mess. I thought I had won but even now she surprised me with another kick. It came from nowhere and even though I swayed it caught me behind the ear. I was immediately stunned and fear clutched my heart. I saw the look of calm hatred in her eyes and I knew that the next blow would almost certainly kill me but it was then that the warders chose to intervene. They came in numbers, obviously having watched from outside, but they could not allow their entertainment to turn lethal. I was unceremoniously dragged back to my cell to cool off where, for the next couple of hours, I nursed the mother of all headaches and tried to get the shakes under control. I knew I had been very lucky. It was Mullens that eventually came for me. This was the moment. She could have taken me before the governor but, if our suspicions were well founded, I was destined to go elsewhere. She threw me a new pair of training shoes. "Follow me." She lead the way though the gates into the main body of the block and then up the stairs. I counted off the cell numbers until we reached 204. "Someone wants to see you." She left me to walk into the cell alone. I suspected that, in normal use, it would house three, possibly four, prisoners but there were just two bunks. Above one there were two Shui-mo landscape paintings, presumably Cheng's, the other was decorated with two framed prints of Vogue magazine covers. "Some of my best work." I turned on my heel. Prison had not yet spoiled her figure and her hair and make-up were immaculate. Her brown eyes looked just a little tired but they still had the lively spark that I recognized from her photos. "I'm Adrienne." "I know who you are." Who did not? Adrienne Deryan, formerly the proprietor of one of the world's most successful fashion houses now serving time for conspiracy charges. Even after all this time the newspapers were still regurgitating it. Her terrorist cousin imprisoned and her ill conceived plan to exact revenge by blowing up Tower Bridge, one of London's landmark buildings She looked me up and down and seemed to arrive at a decision. "Let's cut to the chase. You met my cell mate this morning and she seems to come off the worse for it." "Then perhaps you shouldn't have sent her after me." "What makes you say that?" "As I see it, you are able to afford yourself certain privileges and that includes a measure of protection. When you heard that there was a new kid on the block you had to know the lie of the land." "You seem remarkably well informed." "I make it my business. I will do what I need to survive." "So you will not be surprised if I ask you to move in with me? I understand that Cheng is going to need reconstructive surgery." "Can you arrange a move?" "Consider it done. They'll be along a little later to collect Cheng's effects." "And what would it be worth to me?" She looked around the room. "Apart from a more commodious accommodation? That would depend. Cheng offered me one or two...ancillary services. From what I understand you would not be entirely averse." She walked past me and lay down on her bunk. "Why don't you come and show me what you can do." I looked at the still open cell door. "Don't worry. We're at the end of the wing. We won't be disturbed." Since the first day of planning we had known that it would come to this but that made in no less palatable. I had spent hours poring over her file and every time I saw a photo or a video clip I was reminded. I turned back to her, signalling my acquiescence, and she smiled. "That's a good girl." She was wearing the standard issue grey track suit but on her it assumed a degree of elegance. She slipped the top over her head with a crackle of static electricity and I stared at her breasts. She was over forty now but any twenty year old would have been jealous. They still stood proud and I had never seen nipples so perfectly circular. It would be easy to believe that she had been under the knife but the photo archive showed that she had retained the same enviable profile throughout her well publicised life. Her smile told me that she was quite used to the reaction as she reached down to take off the leggings leaving me to wonder if it was her habit to eschew underwear. Her legs could still have graced a catwalk and she had obviously had access to an expensive depilatory. This made it all the more shocking when I saw the dark heavy growth that hid her sex. She joined her hands behind her head and raised her knees. "Come on baby...I need this." I was angry that she should think that, even inside, money could buy her anything, including me, but it was a necessary evil. I laid down on the bed between her legs in much the same way that Simmons had done for me and in just a few seconds her scent was thick in the air. I shuffled forward, nearer to her sex, and saw that, at some stage, there had been a design razor cut into the dark covering but it had grown out unevenly making it impossible to see what it once might have been. Her labia drew to mind a cloaked figure. They were plump and a little flared at the base narrowing towards the apex where they strained to restrain a prominent clitoris. I found it difficult to take the first step. It seemed somehow forbidding and I remembered the myth of the Egyptian princess. She liked only girls and she had her minions scour the country for the most beautiful but, no matter how well the captives performed, they were never allowed to gaze upon the font of the goddess for a second time. In her frame of reference she had bestowed upon these girls the greatest of gifts and, without exception, they were put to death the following day. Now I had to perform as if my life depended on it. She had to believe that I enjoyed doing it or the whole thing would unravel. I used my fingers to ease through the canopy and then to hold her open. The inner surfaces of her labia were coated with a creamy rime and I closed my eyes as I took a first tentative lick. "Do I taste nice?" I groaned in what I hoped was an approving manner and licked again. The taste was thick on my tongue and I swallowed to clear my palate. I settled down to what I knew would be a prolonged session and licked each side of her sex in turn. Every now and again I would increase the pressure a little and threaten to go deeper but a constant renewal of moisture told me that she was more than content. "Oh, you are going to be so good for me..." She stretched a little straightening one leg and leaving the other raised. I no longer needed to hold her open. Her sex was fully ripened and it lay outspread for my attentions. As the minutes passed my mind became focused on minutiae. I noticed now each of her hairs curled in the same direction, the tiny raised dimples at the very tips of her labia, and the richness of her scent which ebbed and flowed as she gave in to her arousal only to rein it in to allow it to build once more. My mind also went out to those who had been here before and to one in particular. The files had been necessarily vague but it did not take much to read between the lines. The security services had already used one of their own people to get to Deryan. She had been responsible for uncovering the Tower Bridge plot but, if I was right, it was at a personal cost. I suppose it was that aspect of the file which had set this whole train of current events in motion. My jaw was getting numb but I continued to make all the right noises and made sure that she heard me swallowing. "Okay baby, it's time..." She rolled her shoulders and relaxed altogether as I found her clitoris. It was as large as I had envisioned it and I enclosed it with my lips and gently sucked it. "Oh yes..." She arched her back a little and it was almost as if I were lifting her from the bunk. The rounded bulb beneath my tongue was solidly engorged and felt curiously smooth. The temperature of my mouth and her sex was almost matched and a mix of my saliva and her secretions provided a perfect viscosity. The result was a teasing lack of friction but, by slow degrees, her body began to tense. She pushed herself at me but I moved with her so that the pressure of my tongue remained constant. Almost in slow motion her body began to twist and I was aware that she was pinching her nipples. Taking my cue I increased the tempo moving my tongue more quickly. "Now! Don't stop!" I felt her orgasm begin as a deep tremor in her body. For a few seconds she seemed to be in control of it but then it unleashed its true ferocity shaking her so hard that I was, for a moment, cast adrift. "Don't move!" She groaned and held herself still allowing me to reengage and we stayed bound together as she was buffeted by the winds of pleasure on the high plateau. As she slowly came down I ignored my own growing discomfort and I licked over her whole sex cleaning the sodden pelt which was now heavy with her moisture. This was much to her liking and she hummed appreciatively and ran her fingertips through my hair which, itself, was damp with perspiration. I slowly came to a stop and then rested with my head on her thigh. "So how much does this job pay?" I said it playfully but I hoped I gave it just enough edge to remind her of my mercenary intent. Her reply was surprisingly blunt but it was the figure that excited me. It was high, very high, and it confirmed that our thinking had been right all along. I tried to remain calm as I asked my next question. "How would it be paid?" "Cash, payable wherever or to whomever you wish." "I want it paid into a bank account. I'll give you the details." She sat up just a little too quickly. "That's impossible. It's cash or no deal." I rolled my head and gave her sex a long, lingering, lick before slowly getting off of the bed. "That's a great pity. Give my regards to Cheng." I was almost out of the door when she shouted. "Wait! I'll double it...just say where you want it delivered." I turned back to her. "Look, I'm a loner. I intend to stay that way. I have no one on the outside that I trust and, with all due respect, there's a lot of funny money in circulation right now." It was an irrefutable argument and I saw a look close to panic in her eyes. I turned to leave once more. "Okay, okay. As you wish. Give me the details. It will take a couple of days to set up." "A pleasure doing business...I'll want three months in advance." Chapter 6 It was a lot of money but she wanted her pound of flesh. Her sexual appetite was voracious and, over the next three days, I spent hours tending to her needs. It was tiring in more ways than one. As she promised she used her influence to ensure that we shared the cell but there were limits to what she could arrange. The bunks were screwed to the floor and could not be moved together. This meant that we shared one bed but it was very much on her terms. She liked to be licked to sleep and I would labour under the stifling heat of the blanket until she drifted off after which I could crawl out to my own bed. She never showed the faintest inclination to reciprocate in any way and this became a problem. I told myself that I hated her and I hated what I was having to do but every time I brought her to orgasm I found myself feeling more and more frustrated. I could have masturbated but somehow that seemed sordid given what was giving rise to the need. She even taunted me, asking me if I brought myself off whilst I dreamed of her. Things got so bad I even thought of seeking out Simmons but I reasoned that that made me no better than Deryan. On the fourth day after moving in with her time went by with glacial slowness. It was visiting day and, having phoned through the success of my initial contact with Deryan, I had high hopes of this being my last day inside. I was to be bitterly disappointed. Deryan had kept her part of the bargain, The funds were in the account but tracing them was proving as difficult as we feared it would. Our problem was that our Military Intelligence computers were not geared up for this kind of financial forensic analysis. It would have been a lot more straight-forward using the systems of the civilian intelligence service but they had been compromised. The laptop belonging to the woman who was responsible for Deryan's initial capture had been hijacked online and she had been taunted with a cyber message. I was told that I had done enough, that given time the funds would be tracked, but I made the painful decision to stay put. If the worse came to the worse I would demand cash from Deryan and we would have to try and follow it physically. Deryan was in good spirits when I got back to the cell. She had met with her lawyer and was more confident than ever about her upcoming appeal. As I settled between her legs I prayed that we would find the evidence that we needed to nail her for good. A midweek phone call brought no better news and I was forced to wait a full seven days until the next visit. In that time things took a turn for the worse. Deryan discovered a penchant for sitting on my face. The fact that she knew I was capable of killing her with my bare hands seemed to add to the pleasure she took from spending hours holding me helpless beneath her whilst she came at her leisure. I was also attacked for a third time. I have no idea if it was linked to Deryan in any way but it happened in the dining hall. Fortunately, as so often with these things, I felt it in the atmosphere, an indefinable something that heightened my senses. In the event it was a crude attempt. She was a big woman and she came at me without warning. She was holding a plastic knife in a folded handkerchief and she knew enough to hold it with the handle facing forward. The blade would have simply snapped off but the handle, delivered with enough force, could do some painful damage; certainly enough to incapacitate whilst a meaningful kick was delivered. As it was I got low and got my kick in first dislocating her kneecap. I then walked away quickly as though nothing had happened. That same evening, close to lock down, another woman came into our cell. She was an attractive red head, about the same age as Deryan, and the two of them embraced warmly. They sat together on one bunk discussing the appeal hearing but I was aware of her looking at me as I sat reading a battered book from the prison library. After a few moments the bell sounded requiring everyone to return to their own cells but the woman made no move to leave. It was asking for trouble to antagonize the warders and I waited for the sparks to fly. I was more than mildly surprised therefore when the cell door was closed and loudly locked without a word being said. The redhead looked at me and smiled but she addressed herself to Deryan. "Would you mind if I went first? I've been looking forward to this all day and I am really creaming." I was not sure if I was more shocked by her audacity or the fact that Deryan could wield sufficient influence to arrange matters so. I ignored the red head and spoke to Deryan. "Would you like to tell me what's going on?" She got up from the bunk to come and stroke my face. "In another life Lauren was a barrister. She's been helping me with my appeal process and I owe her a favour. I felt sure you wouldn't mind." The temptation to punch her square in the face was so strong that I was shaking but I held myself in check. I had sold myself as a willing prison bitch and if I reneged now it would be hard to explain. I might have got away with it if Lauren had been plain but, in the scheme of things, she was a desirable prospect. She did not wait for me to say anything else. She stood up and, with almost unseemly haste, took off her uniform. She was naked beneath it and she stood allowing me to admire her. She was lean, a little taller than Deryan, with modest breasts that seemed, in some way, a little too rounded. She turned back to the bunk and plumped the pillow. "Come and lie here. Adrienne has told me what you enjoy." It was like moving through a swamp as I willed myself to get up and submit. I lay down to await my fate and it was not long in coming. She straddled my face clumsily, suggesting that she was a novice, and she remained poised over me as if unsure what to do. I was relieved to see that she was clean shaven, which came as a welcome relief after my prolonged sessions with Deryan, and her sex was a tight, almost adolescent, slit. She dropped slowly and squealed at the first touch of my tongue but she quickly relaxed allowing me to do all the work. It did not take much. The sheer decadence of the situation had clearly gotten to her and it took just a few sweeps of my tongue to bring her to a climax. The problem was that she unheeding of my vulnerability and she worked herself ruthlessly over my face using the friction to increase her pleasure.