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.