6 comments/ 75925 views/ 6 favorites The Prisoner Within By: smallncute I stood up, smoothing my jacket and skirt down, trying to hide the fact that my heart was pounding inside me. The trial had lasted two weeks, the longest of my life, and the jury's deliberations just three hours. My solicitor and counsel were both supportive; telling me they expected me to be acquitted of the charge, but deep down I had my doubts. After all, my own husband was convinced I had done it and had started divorce proceedings. I don't know what made him turn against me. Perhaps it was just the magnitude of what had happened to our family. The police had been aggressive in targeting me, supported by medical and forensic experts, and eventually the CPS. Between them, they had gotten to him; the seeds of doubt had been sown. Before long, everyone who I thought I could count on was convinced too. I had lost my parents in a car crash four years earlier, and had no other family on my side, and my friends turned against me as well. The second between the judge asking the jury for their verdict, and the foreman delivering it, seemed to last forever. When the word "Guilty" came out of his mouth, I collapsed in tears. I can barely remember the details of the next few hours. My legal team prepared for the sentencing hearing, which was scheduled for that afternoon. The best I could reasonably expect was five years, but as I had pled not guilty, a sentence of fifteen or more was deemed more likely. Standing there in the dock again, my heart was still racing. The judge walked into the courtroom, her long black robes flowing behind her. I was taken. All I can remember clearly from that short session were the words of the judge as she put me away for life. I had just about managed to compose myself when two bailiffs came to collect me, accompanied by a security guard from the company who would be taking me to the prison. To my disbelief, they produced a pair of handcuffs, which they snapped round my wrists before leading me out of the cell. Rain was lashing down as I was taken from the van and into the prison. It was a short walk, accompanied by a guard from the security company and a pair of prison officers. I was taken into a receiving area. I stood there watching as a guard stood in front of me and began rooting through my belongings. "You won't need most of this," she said as she pulled out my clothes and toiletries. "We'll be issuing you with standard prison clothing." "Oh," I mumbled, "OK." With that, I waited as my bag was largely emptied before it was handed back to me. I was taken into another room. I was asked my clothes and shoe sizes, before being handed a pile of prison issue clothes, and told to enter a small room. I entered the room, small and in need of a coat of paint. The room was stark, the only furniture was an old GP surgery style examination bed, and a little medical style cabinet, the only feature of the table were the two boxes of nitryl gloves. Two female Prison officers followed me into the room. One was rather old, I would guess mid 40's, and quite butch looking, the stereotypically butch gay woman I suppose. She seemed to have a slight attitude, arrogant. The other officer was much younger than me, about 25 if that. She was slender, and out of her uniform could look quite feminine. However, her large baggy white blouse and shapeless trousers did her no favours, didn't do any of them any favours. The younger one spoke, short and to the point "Undress please." She commanded. "What here?" I asked, uncertain. "Yes." she replied. She went on to explain whilst a degrading internal search was rare, all clothing was to be removed and searched before being returned to the owner. Mean while the new prisoner was expected to change in front of two witnesses to ensure contraband wasn't being smuggled in. The room descended into silence before the older one spoke "At your convenience please." emphasising the word convenience. I stripped removing my skirt and blouse, as they watched on with lecherous looks. I stood in my bra and knickers, before the younger one spoke. "Don't be shy; I've seen naked females before." Her tone was harsh, brutal. But I felt their eyes on me. As I unclasped my bra, I felt the stares intense further as if they were deciding I. If I was fuckable. "Turn around" one ordered, and I complied. "Now part your legs and lean forward touching your toes." Again, I did as they asked their comments humiliating to the extreme. "Nah, she hasn't got anything up her bum. Look how tight it is, but she's never even fucked a finger up there." I felt my face redden with anger and embarrassment. The other replied "I wonder who will be the first? That Jane slut?" They both giggled, "get dressed please" as my old clothing was removed from my view. I walked over to the pile of my uniform, and proceeded to put the clothes on. The bra and knickers were both navy, and there was a shapeless grey tracksuit, black socks and a pair of trainers. None of it was new. Everything was faded, the knickers, bra and socks all frayed and the trainers battered. At least they all appeared clean. It was close to midnight, and my cellmate was asleep in the top bunk. I slid my bag under the bottom one. There was a lamp fitted to the wall beside my bed and I used its light as I made up my bed. Too tired to put my clothes away, I took my trainers off and climbed into the bed. The cell was cold, and despite the tracksuit, I shivered under the scratchy blanket. I woke the next morning to the sound of my cellmate exercising. A blonde, she was about 5'5 in height and well toned. She was squatting against the wall raising her hands out in front of her, dressed simply in her knickers and a bra. She was toned muscular and bony, her ribs and shoulder bones were particularly prominent. Yet she had a figure, the curves that most men would appreciate. I didn't know how to introduce myself, but she showed no interest in me. A little while later the cell door was unlocked and opened. She straightened up and picked up a fresh set of clothes from her bunk before walking out wearing only her underwear. I hurriedly grabbed a set of clothes for myself from the bundle on my bed and followed her out. A clock at the end of the corridor said it was just after seven o'clock. It was a long walk to the bathrooms and the communal showers, and I felt uneasy the whole way. The other inmates were talking among themselves, and every so often I could make out my name. They knew who I was, and what I'd been convicted for, and they didn't hide the fact that they didn't like me one bit. The whole shower area reminded me of my old secondary school's changing rooms. It was badly lit, there were cracks in the sinks and tiles, and plumbing looked like it belonged to another era. We were herded into the showers by four prison guards, and I stood at the end of the row, waiting for the water to turn on. When the water came, the spray was surprisingly powerful and hot, though it was preceded by a terrible groaning from the pipes. It wasn't long before the whole area was fogged with steam. I was soaping myself when I felt someone grab my arm, and I struggled as I was dragged into the centre of the stalls. I shouted for help, but the two guards who stood just a few yards from me looked on impassively. As I stumbled through the mass of bodies, I tripped over an outstretched foot and slipped to the floor, landing hard on my front. I felt my ankle turn under me and I grunted with pain as I felt someone slam her knee down into the small of my back and crouch down over me. She grabbed the hair on top of my head and lifted my face up so I could see a group of three inmates looking down at me, laughing. They were all mature inmates in their 40s and mothers, large and brutal looking. They barely spoke, and when they did, the language was foul brutal, full of swear words. One of the women then kicked me full in the face. There was nothing I could do to protect myself as she slammed her instep against my nose and mouth as I lay there, sprawled on the floor, struggling to get out from under the immensely strong woman who was pinning me down. The ache across my face Suddenly my face was smashed to the floor. A new wave of pain enveloped my head as I felt my nose crunch under me against the off-white tiles. Opening my eyes, I saw the water under me was now coloured red with my blood. The inmate who had started the assault climbed off me, and I felt her deliver a heavy kick to my side before leaving me. The showers stayed on for a few minutes, and curled up on the floor as the twenty-nine other women largely ignored me. I was sobbing as I clutched my face, trying to protect myself from the occasional kick which was directed at me. I couldn't believe what was happening to me. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours earlier that I had been a free woman, yet there I was, at the mercy of a group of violent women, and the guards who were there to protect me did nothing. I felt the showers turn off, and the other women filed out. Once I was sure I was alone, I struggled to my feet and limped out of the stalls. I picked up my towel and wrapped it round myself. This time I was left alone by the guards and the other inmates as I tried to wash the blood off my face, standing over a sink. It was a few moments before I dared look at my reflection in the mirror. My nose was still bleeding, as where my gums from where my teeth had bitten into them during the assault. I could hear the rest of the inmates laughing and joking in the changing rooms. My life had become a living hell. Since coming to Holloway prison just over two weeks ago, I had been harassed, humiliated, abused, attacked, and even beaten up in the showers. The other female inmates detested me, hated me for my alleged crime. They hissed"baby-killer" whenever I walked by. It was a nightmare; how so suddenly my life has changed, almost overnight. I often thought about my trial, the hostility in that courtroom, in the judge's eyes, as she so righteously pronounced my sentence. The click of the handcuffs. The long night ride to the prison through that torrential rain. How my heart fell at my first view of those gray walls that were to me my home...for life! I was given a small cell with a hard-bitten blonde, a cold, indifferent cellmate, and in those early days I tried only to survive. The assaults continued well into the second week, before the inmates found another new inmate to tease, haunt, to make her life a misery. I was destined to be a loner it would seem, for the rest of my life. My cell mate, was polite, she taught me a few home truths about life inside, but otherwise she ignored me, not in a nasty manner as had others, but she made it clear that there was to be no friendship between us. At meal times, the other inmates would ignore me; there was a table, referred to as the leper colony, where those who were ousted sat. It seemed only reasonable that I should sit there, alone, as I ate my so-called food, watching my fellow inmates. It was one lunchtime that I first met Miranda, as she broke convention, and joined me at the table. "You should take more care of yourself, Kate." I looked up, as I toyed with the so-called meat with my fork... "Yes, well those shower floors tend to be slippery." I managed a slight smile as I joked about my own predicament, and somehow I suddenly started to feel more at ease with myself, and my future, though what my future would hold I did not have any idea. "Well you should take care of yourself, and possibly find a friend, a protector in this place." I looked up at her, examining her face. I wondered if she was serious about what she said. Miranda was a petite girl, standing at 5'2 or 5'3, but whilst small in stature, she had a presence. It turned out that she was, had been a martial arts fan, and was a black belt. As such, she was now allowed to have access to the gym and to help organise keep fit lessons for those who chose to use them. Her hair was shoulder length, and often in a pony. I had seen her around for a few days; having noticed that whilst she wasn't a member of the leper colony, she also often chose to sit outside the main group of inmates. "What do you mean, a protector?" I asked, trying to sound as neutral, not-interested as I could. Miranda smiled, as she looked at me, finished chewing her food, before she spoke. "You are not popular in here Kate, with your conviction sentence. Half of these inmates are mothers, and so they have a natural distaste for the likes of you. I am in a position to help you become accepted, to become more involved in prison life. I have been inside for three years now, and still have another seven years to do, and if it wasn't for the gym, I'd have gone bananas by now..." "But how can you protect me?" "Come and talk to me in the gym... at 4 pm..." With that, she got up and left, leaving me alone and confused. It was a Wednesday afternoon, a sports and recreational time for the inmates. I headed to the library, where I had found consul, and relief in the form of books, reading both reference and fiction. But that afternoon I was unable to concentrate in any book, as my mind wondered as to what Miranda's game was. One thing I had learnt already was that in jail no one gives anything for free. I arrived slightly late, unable to find her office in the recreation complex. The area was deserted but with one or two prison wardens, who seemed to know of my appointment with Miranda, and guided me through to her office. She sat at her desk alone, in her sports attire, looking somewhat different to the issued garb called a uniform. I knocked softly. "Please come in and take a seat, Kate." I sat opposite her, slightly well not nervous but at unease, filled with apprehension, as I wondered what Miranda wanted. As she wore her sports kit, the crop top outlining her curves, her shorts complementing her form, for once in almost two weeks I looked at an inmate as a fellow female rather than a criminal, doing her, time no different from that which I found myself serving. "I am guessing that you are wondering why you are here Kate?" "Yes, "I replied. There was nothing more to add at the moment. "Firstly, I guess I should tell you why I am in here." I did not really see the need for this, but, well, I guess I was intrigued as to why she was in jail, so I just nodded, grunted as she told me her story, or rather a glimpse of her past. "I used to run a little escort agency which doubled up as a front for prostitution. But one afternoon, the partner of one of my clients went home early, and found his wife... in bed with one of my girls. He happened to be a high court judge" she smiled softly. "And several other clients of mine were, maybe still are married to important people in government. This all came out in the police investigation, and so here I am. For making immoral earnings off prostitution or some bull like that, I lose 10 years of my life." I just looked at her, stared at her in disbelief. "Anyway Kate, I have arranged for you to sleep in my cell this evening. My previous cell mate was paroled last month, and no one yet has appealed to me as a replacement till now. You will spend the next two evenings with me, and if the feelings are mutual, I will arrange for you to move in permanently." With a flick of her wrist, she ended the conversation with "that will be all." I sat in disbelief as she returned to her duties. After a minute or two, I stood, and walked out, back to the wing. As I left the recreation building, a voice said, "I shall escort you to Miranda's cell, Kate," and almost in a trance I followed her to another wing, and was led to a cell. Her cell was larger than my previous cell, and with two beds rather than a bunk. With the beds on the floor, space, was still limited however, but Miranda had been allowed to add a few touches to remind her of home, including some erotica on the walls, small pen drawings of nude female or females in erotic poses. On a small set of wall mounted shelves were several books. As I picked one or two of them up, the front covers were illustrated with female lovers. I briefly scanned the back page of one, realising it was gay literature. I dropped them back into the shelf with a shudder of disgust. I looked around, before the cell door opened, and in came Miranda. "Glad you found the cell, your basic belongings are over there." As Miranda pointed, suddenly I saw some of my belongings that I bought with me; I walked over to them, recognising my old toilet bag, seeing my hypo-allergenic items. "But how, where?" I started to stutter. "As I said earlier Kate, it's who you know, not what you know. Moreover, I can protect you, should you decide to cooperate. I glanced at her, before looking through my items, my toiletry bag all present, as were my clothing in my overnight bag. They were nothing special, but I had bought with me a few items to remind me that I was a woman, and not a villain, a criminal. It was time for evening meal, and Miranda and I left her cell for the food. As we sat together and made small talk, I felt more comfortable with Miranda than anyone else in the prison, but still something didn't feel right. I soon found that I must wait before the plan became apparent, and the waiting did not go on for long. Miranda and I spoke a lot that evening, about all sorts of topics, and I was starting to feel I could relax somewhat, but at the same time also found myself slightly on edge. I suppose I suspected Miranda had an ulterior motive for her kindness, I just did not know what that might be. Soon, the doors were locked, and we were entombed in the cell for the evening, a habit I had not yet developed was to ensure my bladder was empty before door closing time. So as Miranda and I chatted, I soon started to feel that burden, that pressure that could only be relieved by using the primitive camping style toilet in the room, which we would have to empty before breakfast. I stood up, from my bed, headed to the bucket, feeling Miranda's Stare as I l dropped the shapeless slacks and my cotton knicks, and soon I sighed with relief, despite her glare as I peed. "I never could fathom why some of my clients wanted my girls to pee on them, or vice versa." "Pardon?" I gasped. "I used to think it was perverted, but having been in this tomb, I can start to see the arousal they feel." I looked at her in disbelief, as she suddenly brought up sex, and kinky sex at that! "But I will have to wait a while before I get to practice it for real." Miranda said as she burst into a soft giggle. I watched on, staring with disbelief before I started to wipe away, and to dress again. Miranda continued to talk. "Some evenings, I like to get what few clothes out that I have and wear them for an hour or so before bed time, help me to remain who I am, or maybe what I was?" With that she jumped up, and removed her coarse blouse, and shapeless slacks, kicking them under her bed. Her bra and knicks followed, standing nude before me with no obvious embarrassment what so ever. Miranda was, is about 5'2 5'3 with shoulder length dark brown curly hair. Her complexion was rather dark, suggesting her Caucasian line had encountered Mediterranean stock. Her eyes were hazel, and her facial complexion was dark. Her figure was curvy, her breasts started with a soft gentle swelling, curving downwards to expose her firm, uplifting breasts. Her areola were large and brown, with prominent nipples. Under her breasts, her body curved inwards to her waist, before majestically curving outwards to her firm but plump bum cheeks. She was toned; her muscle definition was soft but prominent, like mine. However, Miranda's muscles were from regular exercise, mine had formed from being the mother of a rapidly growing baby. Her abdomen whilst taught was not showing the 'six pack' often worn by athletes. The Prisoner Within She reached into a drawer, and took out a simple wrap over top, and skirt, and a lace bra, and matching thong. Before I knew it, she was changed, and quite a transformation it was to. I sat back on my bunk, slightly shocked, but she did have a very strong feminine touch, look about her, still. "I saw you had some other clothing in your overnight bag, Kate. Care to give me a view, a glimpse..." She paused briefly before ending with "Please." I looked at her, as she sat back down, and looked around the room. As if I was hypnotised, I stood up and soon was nude, before I reached into my bag, and pulled out a simple v neck jumper and a skirt, and a plain set consisting of a cotton bra/thong. My back was turned to Miranda as I put my arms through my bra and started to clasp the bra closed and soon I was stepping into the matching thong. "Very nice Kate" was what I heard next, in some disbelief. It wasn't what she said, but rather how she said it, like a man in a night club. There was a lecherous hint to her voice. Dressed, I turned to face her. She sat on her bunk, her back at the wall, and she softly smiled, as she sensed my unease. Her smile just made me more uneasy. "Have you ever slept with a girl, Kate?" I froze, in both shock and disbelief blurted out, "Don't be so preposterous, absurd, it's not natural!" "Neither is being caged up with a pretty girl, Kate, and no opportunity for sex with a guy for quite a few years. Do you, did you have a high sex drive?" I blushed as I nodded. "Yes I did, do I guess." "And you're in here for life. It will be a long time before you ever get to fuck a guy again, if at all...." As I looked at her, her dressed up, my clothes, my toiletries, my possessions, it started to dawn on me what her plan, her intent was with me. I shivered as I stood in the room. "Cold, Kate?" Miranda asked in a genuinely concerned tone. She stood, as our eyes met, and took the small pace to be close to me. Feeling her hands on my flesh, my body began to tense as she began to explore my skin further. "When was the last time you were bullied, Kate? "Two days ago, I think?" I replied "How do you think you got your toiletries, your personal items back, Kate?" My eyes met hers, my mind in turmoil as I shivered again feeling her flesh, her fingers on mine in a sexual manner. "I don't... Don't know..." My voice peeled off, uncertain as to what was happening, how far she would make me go. She continued to hold me, as her eyes pierced my stare, a soft smile on her lips, her fingers lightly caressing. I felt my skin react, goose pimples. My breathing became rapid, shallow. "But I am not like that, Miranda." I paused gathering my thoughts, trying to control my breathing. "Look Miranda, I am straight. I never looked at a woman, nor will I. It is not that I disapprove, it is just not me, I don't go that way. Hear what I am saying?" I remember distinctly the smile on her face, as she whispered, almost hissed the following words. "I hear what you are saying Kate, but you are in jail now -- no well hung men to fuck you, just your fellow inmates, and the odd screw as well. " I yelped as she grasped my wrist, tugging it away, making a point. "I am going to have sex with you Kate. You can either relax, and submit and enjoy my friendship, company, and protection, or, when I have finished with you, I will allow the other vultures in this place to have you. It's as simple as that, Katie." I started to sob, her hand still holding my wrist. "Pull yourself together, girl. Otherwise you'll be sent out of here in six months wearing a straight jacket." SLAP Her other hand slapped my cheek. I let out a whimper, as my face stung, a tear down my cheek. She wiped my tear as she spoke so softly, carefully, before she licked my tear from her finger, displaying utter cruelty and then softness. "I like you, Kate, I am attracted to you, and I don't like to see you being hurt. But the choice is simple. Submit voluntary or be taken, by force if need be." She let go and returned to her bunk, facing me. I sat back down, confused, as I crawled under my scratchy blanket and cried myself to sleep. The following morning, Miranda was civil to me, as we sat together; making polite conversation, the only time she mentioned the previous evening was during breakfast, when she reminded me that her offer of protection finished in 24 hours time. The day however went very slowly as my mind thought about the options of her proposal. Be seduced or be raped, the choice was that simple it seemed. I could not settle down. I looked in the library, and soon found the section on gay literature, the books heavily dog-eared, stained. I guess with hindsight what the stains were from. But soon the day was over, as we were herded back into our rooms, our cells, our tombs with the sound of the screws locking us in for the evening as the keys clanged, the locks banging tight. Just before our cell was closed, Miranda entered, almost pushed in by the guard, as the door was locked, the working parts echoing in the cell. Miranda went straight to her bunk, hardly looking at me, before her eyes caught me when she stopped and looked at me again. I had dressed up, with what I could, to make myself appealing. I knew a friend who was raped once. I didn't want that to happen to me. "Oh my, Katie, well, well, well..." She stopped and turned to face me, smiling. Her hand cupped my cheek softly. "So I presume you have made a decision, Katie?" I just nodded, before I spoke. "You saw to it that I would, those name callings, being called frigid, and the like..." I paused, "The last few days, the inmates had started to victimise other new inmates, but you saw that they would resume their attention to me." Miranda smiled softly, as if to say how she, but her look of sincerity wasn't very deep. I felt her hands continue to caress my cheek, my lips, aware that my breathing was becoming light, erratic. As she pushed her index finger past my lips, I could only gulp, our eyes locked, staring. I had lost the war, but this staring battle, I was determined to win. My right hand lifted, visibly shook as I touched her cheek, cupping it, gasping, gulping again. I am sure Miranda could hear my heart pound in my chest; I could certainly feel the pounding within. The staring match continued, our fingers softly exploring each other's faces, caressing as our eyes focused, as the tension increased, the stares deepening. "Kiss me, Miranda. I know you want to. I know you desire me." I gulped, as I realised what I had said, but my eyes were still open, as hers closed. She leant in, her fingers spreading wider on my cheek, in my hair, as she pressed her palm into my cheek, my eyes unable to focus as she moved in close. I felt her lips press on mine, her tongue reaching out, brushing, and caressing my lips as she kissed me softly. Having seen her close her eyes, and then feeling her lips on mine, I sighed, gasped, and closed my eyes to accept my fate. Her kiss lingered, full of softness, gentle, sensual... My lips parted instinctively as her lips and tongue probed my lips, parted my lips. The kiss continued. Finally she pulled away, pushing me away as she smiled, and looked at me. "Kneel, Kathy." Her voice was soft yet commanding. I looked at her; slightly unsure as to what she was meaning, my face full of confusion. "KNEEL." Her voice was soft sensual, but so commanding. Hearing her command again, I obeyed, with nothing more than slight hesitation, my eyes looking up at her as I knelt. She undressed in front of me, teasing me, as she made a point of her undressing, exposing her nude form to me, her curves, her trimmed mound, her nipples already aroused from my presence, so it would seem. She reached under her bed, and withdrew a pair of knee high boots. The leather was black, soft, supple, the heels narrow; the toes pointed. She slid her feet into each boot before she spoke again. "Fasten up the zips," her voice again soft, but commanding. Hesitantly, as I bit my lip, I reached out, feeling the soft leather, feeling a shiver run up my spine, as I eased up the zippers. Our eyes met, and a devilish smile fell upon her lips. Miranda then leant forward reaching for a box from beneath her bed, and opened it reaching in retrieving a black garment. Slowly she opened it out, exposing the soft leather of a leather bustier. She reached out, sliding her head through the leather neck halter strap before reaching behind clasping the eyelets together. Her stare was focused on mine as I watched her, still kneeling. Her bustier secured, she adjusted her breasts within the bustier, the neckline plunging down to a band below her breasts, exposing the soft delicate curves of her breasts, before the dark looming leather hid them from my view. I gulped, as she stood before me somehow strangely aroused, the soft leather hiding her breasts increasing her appeal a case of less on view is more alluring appealing. Obviously fully dressed in her garments, she sat back down, her eyes always piercing mine, obviously looking for signs of emotion. As I knelt, she moved her right foot slowly, caressing my flesh with the toe of her boot. I was suddenly scared, but intrigued. She softly caressed my flesh, stroking my chin with her toe, as if I was her pet cat, her pet cat... "Kiss the leather, Kathy. Kiss it!" My eyes opened wide as I stared, in disbelief and shock as I heard her request, her command. But I knew I had no choice but to full fill her requests, I kissed the soft black leather. I opened my eyes and glanced up. She had leaned back on her hands, head thrown back as she sighed softly. I continued for several minutes, kissing, licking the leather, feeling a whore, a slut, but; as Miranda's sighs deepened, with intensity, I was filled with intrigue as she was obviously aroused by this. Before I was aware of what was happening, she pulled my hair, as she pulled my face, my lips to hers, and kissed me, with intensity that I had hardly experienced before. Finally she broke the kiss, the kiss that left both of us gasping, panting for air. "Undress for me; Expose yourself to me my pet." I shuddered on hearing this, on being called a Pet, but slowly I stood up and undressed, leaving my clothes dishevelled in a heap on the floor. "Kneel, pet, but closer to me." Again, with as much pride as I could muster, I knelt before Miranda, feeling the cool leather against my flesh as I looked up at her. She ran her toe over my flesh, leaving a trail of goose pimples. My breathing was short and rapid. I thought I could not be aroused; the whole experience was so new to me. How could someone be so cold, ruthless, yet sensual at the same time? She looked down at me nodding with approval as her foot caressed, stroked my form, my nipples, my breasts, my chin. As she caressed my chin, she kept calling me her pet repeatedly. Finally her foot moved to my labia, as she looked at my natural mound. "From now on, my pet, you will be shaved." I just nodded. My legs parted further, as her foot ran along my mound, my labia, sending a shiver as she pressed on my clit, making me release a gasp. "Aroused, my pet?" I just nodded, as she slowly started to press harder onto my flesh my clit my labia and I instinctively started to grind against the toe of her boot. "That's it, pet; Fuck your mistress's boot, cum on her leather-clad foot." Her voice had coarseness to it, a coarseness that I would soon recognise as a sign of arousal, as I did as she asked of me, pressing my sex, my mound onto her foot. She pressed back, as my hips gyrated softly, my back, head thrown back as I reached out to grasp the bed, to steady myself. I felt my labia part, the leather past my labia as her foot, her boot penetrated me, pressing into me, hearing her crude, sexual words of encouragement. It wasn't long before I shuddered with an intense climax. The stress of the last few weeks, and the lack of sexual release, came to an end. Slowly I sank back into my ankles as my body recovered, as I looked up at my new friend, my lover, my Mistress. She allowed me to kneel there alone in my thoughts as I recovered regained some composure before she spoke softly. "Kate, my boot is now dirty, with your cum, I think you should clean it." I looked up in total surprise unsure as to what she meant, how I should clean her boot. I guess the look upon my face was self explanatory. She lifted her boot towards me, my face "Lick it clean pet." Her voice was slightly cold. Slowly unsure, I took her foot in my fingers, feeling the leather, smelling inhaling my own scent. Tentatively I started to lick the leather, tasting the leather, the polish, my own arousal. I felt lost again, as I was being humiliated, being forced to lick her boot clean. My tongue touched the leather, each stroke sending a chill down my spine. But her words her voice was soft as she encouraged me. Soon my humiliation was over. Miranda leant back smiled as she parted her legs, exposing her trimmed labia to me, her labia aroused, as she touched, stroked herself, gasping as she fought to contain her breathing. I watched her caressing herself as I steadied myself as I regained control of my breathing. Slowly, majestically Miranda rose, as she stood up. She reached out, downwards with her hands, offering them to me. I reached for them, as I did, her fingers grasped mine, caressed my flesh as she pulled me up, more mentally than physically, but soon I was standing, towering over her. Yet she had me under her spell, her control. Our eyes met, as her hands let go of mine, and started to caress my breasts sending a ripple down my spine. Her touch was soft sensual, her finger nails lightly raking against my flesh leaving a trail of goose pimples. Her touch was so soft. My eyes met her, as I felt my breathing change again; her touches were having an effect on me. "You may hold me pet, kiss me." Her lips smiled, her spell had been cast upon me. Somewhat hesitant, I was slow to lean into her, my eyes closing as i sought out her lips. Briefly I imagined a person, some whom I had kissed, snogged recently other than Miranda. Unfortunately, he had not really spoken to me since I was accused of the crime. I shivered, not because of kissing Miranda but the last person I kissed so intimately had disowned me. "Will Miranda disown me; turn me over to the vultures, as she promised?" My mind asked the question. My thoughts, my apprehension were soon cast aside as our lips touched, cupped each other's lips, feeling the kiss intensify. My breasts shivered, as the cool leather bustier was pressed against my own breasts, feeling Miranda's hands caress, hold my body. She pinched my breast, my nipple with her finger and thumb sending a jolt along my nerve. Rather than making me pull away, the jolt seemed to make me more aroused, as we kissed, our tongues dancing the most elegant provocative of all dances, the tango. Her hands moved to my bum cheeks, softly spanking them a short sharp slap, before she grappled my flesh, grinding her pelvis into my own. Breathless, finally Miranda broke the kiss the embrace as she returned to her bed as she sat before me. "It is my turn to cum pet, you're not going to forget your Mistress's desires, needs are you pet?" As she spoke, she opened her legs thighs exposing her fanny fully for the first time. It was the first time I had seen a pussy so close before, her arousal spread over the folds of her labia, her scent deep, musky, strangely arousing. I stared briefly at her fanny, then at Miranda. She just nodded smiled expectantly. Slowly I ran my fingers along her booted calves, upwards to her knees, and along to her thighs, the leather replaced by her soft smooth skin. I was confused, my mind calling myself a slut, a whore. But I was also aroused, Miranda had kissed me with an intensity no other had. She had pleasured me, helped me to relieve my pent up sexual frustration, my sexual needs. But I had been forced, at least psychologically. The option had been to submit and to be protected, or be forced, physically by all. Our eyes met, and she responded with a sly smile. Slowly I leant closer to her, my nostrils filling with her scent, my fingers caressed her thigh. Slowly my lips and her flesh collided, sending a shiver through my entire body. My tongue slowly started to lick, lap at my Mistress's flesh, feeling, hearing her respond. I continued, fighting the thoughts in my mind, wanting to push them aside, and to concentrate on the moment. Miranda ushered words or encouragement, as slowly I accepted my fate, and started to pleasure sexually pleasure another female. Soon my tongue was on her petals, feeling her folds, tasting her arousal, feeling her pubes against my tongue, my flesh. My eyes were closed; somehow I was working on instinct, a combination of remembering how I like to be pleasured, and her words of command. I found her clit, suckled and nibbled, feeling her hands run through my hair. I continued slowly, my taste buds on my tongue tasting her arousal, so different to the cum of a male. Her gasps, her commands encouraged me, my thoughts – my apprehension cast aside. I felt Miranda start to move, her hand grasped my hair tight, pulling it as she held my face still, and ground her pelvis, her wanton pussy pressing onto my face. "Oh god, oh fuck Kate that's it." As Miranda came on my face, her breathing short gasping as she held me there, her first orgasm was subsiding when another orgasm hit her, stronger than the first, I was hardly able to breathe. Epilogue... That evening, I was allowed to share her bed as we cuddled ourselves to sleep. I was able to stay in Miranda's care and her protection. I became her pet, her sex slave. She introduced me not only to Sapphic love but the strange world of domination and submission. Whilst I never became an 'in-member' of the cliques, I was accepted, and never bullied again. There was an appeal after fresh medical evidence, and the reputation of the medical expert was brought into question. I was acquitted of the crime and released four years later as were some ten other females who were wrongly imprisoned. Miranda was also released early partly because the prisons were over crowded. We now live together and having paid our debts to society we keep ourselves to ourselves. As to my sexuality, Miranda and I have our separate rooms, our own beds, but there are days we sleep together. Other times we sleep alone. We both enjoy the feel of a cock every now and then, and our friendship isn't exclusive. I have never heard a word from my former husband. What a Barstard. Authors Note: Another piece of fiction, this story started as a discussion of a scenario in the lit bi–room and developed partially into a role play. My partner has long since disappeared into the ether that is the internet, the online world. Before she departed however, she wrote the beginning of this story and was kind enough to send to me for comments, and possibly extension. We had discussed how the story might evolve in our respective hands as we both had a different outlook on the scenario, hers was darker, more physical more brutal. Mine was more physcological, with Miranda implying the use of force rather than actually using force. I am unlikely to read her ending, for which I am rather sad about. I hope you enjoyed the story, and please send me your constructive comments, and I will read them, and endeavour to take them on board. Finally I would like to thank Sarah, Tina and Don who have all helped to tweak this story and helped to look out for obvious errors on my behalf. Without you, this story would not have been finished. Thank you for having read this far. The Prisoner Within Miranda