Jenny Pt. 02

Just after midday, I received an interesting phone call: "Hello, am I speaking with Michael Osbourne?" the female voice asked.

"Who's speaking, please?" I asked.

"My name is Alison Marchant. I run an independent magazine called, Informed. Your name came up on a search engine, and having read your profile, I believe you may be able to help me."

"I've heard of your magazine, but it's not exactly a main stream publication," I said. It was a hard hitting anti-establishment magazine that had often seen itself in court defending articles it had printed.

"So, you'll know what we're all about."

"What is it you think I can help you with."

"I am looking for an investigative writer or journalist to join us in our latest project."

"And what would that be?" She did have me intrigued as I was never one to turn anything down without due consideration. As I've said, in my line of work, I never knew where my next job was coming from.

"The female run Judicial system."

I wasn't expecting her to say that. "Why do you think I, in particular, might be of assistance to you?"

"I will be blunt with you, Mr Osbourne. Your girlfriend works in the City Penitentiary, you have access to information about what goes on inside the female dominated prison system."

I was stunned. I said nothing for a few moments while I processed what this woman was saying.

She spoke again before I had a chance to formulate a response. "At least you haven't cut me off, so that's encouraging," she said.

"How do you know my girlfriend works in the Correction department?"

"It's in your profile; you wrote it yourself."

Yes, I had. Maybe I shouldn't have, I thought. "I wouldn't consider any information about the Judicial system I gleaned from my girlfriend would be anything more than gossip. Nothing that anyone couldn't get themselves from social media."

"Just a suggestion, Mr Osbourne, but perhaps you could ask her to use her influence to allow you some time on the inside to gather information."

Now, that was an idea, I thought. I could make an official request to act as a fly on the wall inside the Penitentiary so I could write an account of how life is different inside prisons since the reforms.

"That's certainly an interesting proposition, Ms Marchant..."

"Please call me, Alison."

"Alison. I would have to think about it. Of course, I would have to get approval from my girlfriend as I wouldn't want to do anything to jeopardise her position."

"I would expect nothing less, Mr Osbourne..."

"Please call me, Michael."

"I have forwarded my email address to you, Michael. If you would like to discuss this further, please get in touch."

When she'd gone, I was left deep in thought. From my own experience, and the things I'd got from Jenny, an expose on the workings of the prison system under female control may provide an interesting read. It would be quite controversial, especially if the stuff I already knew was typical of what was going on. If I did a good job of this, my reputation could go sky high... or I could end up charged with treason or something draconian like that.

I decided to run this past Jenny when she got home, but as soon as my thoughts returned to my girlfriend, my penis took over responsibility for thinking from my brain. By now she would have given that prisoner his forty or fifty strokes, or however many she was giving him, and feeling as horny as hell. I checked my watch, she'd be home in a few hours, so I decided to set about making something nice for tea.

At just a few minutes to six, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Jenny: 'BE READY!' was all it said. Message understood. Poor Prisoner Harris must be laying on his stomach in a cell in the Penitentiary with a very sore backside, I thought. In very sharp contrast, I was soon to be laying down too, but on my back with a sexy naked girl on top of me, feeling exquisite pleasure.

Guessing she would be home very soon, I stripped naked, got two glasses of wine, lit a few candles in the bedroom and lay on top of the bed awaiting her arrival.

When I heard the apartment door open and quickly close, Jenny's voice called: "Michael, where are you. You'd better be..." She appeared at the bedroom door, stopped and looked around smiling at the dimly lit room, the flames from the candles causing flickering light to dance patterns around the walls. "... ready and naked."

I certainly was naked with my penis growing fast. Without ceremony, Jenny stripped her clothes off and threw them to the floor before bouncing onto the bed with glee. She climbed across my stomach, straddling me, crouching down so our mouths met. I tasted mint, probably from a sweet she had eaten to freshen herself up a little, but I could smell the faint odour of sweat from the closeness of her body after her day of hard work. It was tempered with a musky perfume, the combination of which, drove me insane with lust. Our mouths and tongues intertwined with lustful kissing, our hands groped each other's flesh with passion and fervour. My penis throbbed against her buttocks and her hot pussy rubbed against my stomach, each of us aching for sexual union.

She almost jumped from my stomach and switched position to now straddle my face, placing her wet pussy directly onto my mouth. Her scent filled my nostrils and raised my level of lust to dizzying heights. To add to the almost unbearable pleasure, I felt her soft wet mouth wrap around my throbbing penis and her tongue curl deliciously around the stem and frenum. Oh, this was ecstasy at its finest, each of us enraptured by the delights of the flesh.

Jenny's arousal and closeness to her first orgasm was pushing me close to mine, and it was no surprise when we both exploded our orgasms jointly from the stimulus of our tongues. Our orgasms throbbed and pulsed through our bodies sending waves of pure ecstasy through us. Coming together by mutual oral stimulation was one of our specialities, happening more often since Jenny got that job. But as I came slowly down from the heights of pleasure, guilty thoughts of prisoner Harris somehow jumped into my mind.

"Oh, Michael," Jenny practically whimpered as she relaxed on top of me, still with her pussy on my face and her chest resting on my semi hard, momentarily drained penis. "That was amazing. I want more!"

She scrambled off me and changed position on the bed snuggling right up beside me. Even the warmth and softness of her flesh against mine didn't detract my thoughts from the prisoner.

"Good day?" I asked.

The question was misinterpreted by Jenny who thought I was enthused by the idea of the caning she'd given that day. In actual fact, I was feeling uncomfortable now my desperately needed orgasm was out of the way, and I was just making polite conversation to cover it up.

"It was amazing, more than amazing. I had him stretched out on an almost horizontal whipping bench, his poor bare arse perfectly positioned, bent slightly for my cane. It was a different bench we used today, only a couple of feet from the floor. He was whimpering before I'd even touched him, he begged me not to go too hard on him."

"I suppose that fell on deaf ears," I said. Fortunately, Jenny didn't pick up the hint of disdain in my voice.

"Of course not, how could I resist those beautiful round, pink buttocks, with their perfect contours, unblemished skin begging for my cane to stripe them."

I could sense Jenny's growing arousal as she spoke, and my suspicions were confirmed when she slithered her soft, delicious body onto mine. My growing discomfort as she described the events of the day in the penitentiary were soon overcome by the sensual delights this beautiful sexy young woman had at her disposal. As I felt her soft, warm wetness rub across my penis, I felt life being restored.

She started to kiss my neck as she continued with her story of how she ensured the first stroke was delivered hard and accurate. The intention was to shock her victim with the intensity of that first stroke; a psychological blow that gave the recipient of the caning the realisation that it was going to be a long, painful punishment.

With my revitalised penis now being treated to the heavenly delights of Jenny's gently stroking pussy, my mind was drifting away from prisoners and penitentiaries. My whole world centred around the pleasure I was experiencing with this incredible woman. I felt her breath drifting into my hair and around my neck as her delicate lips touched my flesh. Her sensual movements were sending me messages of the pleasure she was feeling. But I was sharing that pleasure, and it was so good. All the time, whispers of the painful strokes she wrapped across her prisoner's bare buttocks drifted into my half listening ears.

The pleasure was increasing for me and I began to thrust upwards into Jenny who responded with greater moans and more energetic strokes. I was getting closer, Jenny was getting closer. Her descriptions of the caning she had administered that afternoon were coming quicker, and in shorter sentences:

"He was crying with pain... especially when I hit the sweet spot... just at the tops of his legs... he couldn't stand the pain... I tried to hit even harder..."

Our orgasms were close, almost at the point of no return. I wrapped my arms around Jenny's back as I thrust upwards. It was as though we were fighting each other, struggling to thrust against each other to gain as much pleasure from the other as we could. Then with Jenny's words describing the horrors bestowed upon her prisoner now meaning nothing to me, both our orgasms hit for the second time in perfect unison. The thrusting and grinding continued as we drained every ounce of pleasure we could from each other. We were joint winners, each extracting the fullness of what our flesh had to offer. We revelled for several moments in the joy our orgasms brought us, before retreating into silence, gripping tight hold of each other as we gently eased ourselves back to reality.

For many seconds we lay together with not a word spoken until Jenny it was who broke the silence. "Imagine the pain Harris is feeling right now in his tiny lock down cell."

"What?" I lifted my head and looked at her.

The abruptness in my voice caused Jenny to push herself up and turn her face to look curiously at me. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

My reaction had been quite strong and I didn't want to upset the mood, so I tried to backtrack a little. "Way to kill the mood," I said with a laugh.

I was relieved when she laughed with me, but I still felt very uneasy that she was so turned on by what she'd done in work that day. She was revelling in the pain she had delivered to the prisoner she'd punished.

"Oh, you know what I'm like," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed picking up one of the glasses of wine.

"I know," I said, "you get turned on punishing prisoners, but I sometimes wish you'd forget about that when we're together."

"You do get the benefit, you know."

"I know."

"I enjoy sharing my day with you, and that includes the weird things that turn me on. It means a lot to me if you're interested too."

This was the moment I was waiting for to tell her about my phone call. "I am interested in your work, Jenny."

"You are?" She seemed delighted.

"In fact, someone made a suggestion to me that I write an in depth article about the Justice System."

"Really?" Jenny shrieked with delight. "What do you want to know? Do you want to interview me?"

"Actually, I've had a bit of an idea," I said, tentatively.

"Go on," she said, half suspicious, half excited.

"Would it be possible for me to spend some time in the penitentiary as a fly on the wall. You know, pretend to be a prisoner, but instead, I'm actually observing and writing about my experience inside."

Jenny thought for a moment, seriously contemplating my suggestion.

"I'd have to have a word with my superiors, but I think it's a brilliant idea, it depends what they think or if it's even allowed. The new Justice regime investigated by an undercover reporter. It would be a great way of showing how much the justice system has improved since the changes were brought in."

I wasn't thinking of it being to show favour to the new system, quite the opposite, but I said nothing. This was possibly moving in a better direction than I'd hoped.

"Who asked you to do this?" Jenny asked.

I didn't want to reveal which magazine, that would show my true intentions straight away. From what I gleaned from Jenny, the treatment of Harris and myself, and how other prisoners were generally treated, needed to be exposed, and the opportunity to do it was tantalisingly opening up. "It was suggested by another freelancer I've known for years. I was having a moan to him about not coming up with new ideas and he suggested, with you being my girlfriend, I did a piece on the justice system."

"Great idea. We'll have to buy him a drink some time." Jenny drank half the glass of wine and climbed back on top of me, positioning her soft pussy lips on my semi erection. "Are you ready to go again if I promise not to mention Harris and his very sore backside?"

"Why not." My penis was responding yet again, how could it resist this stunning, sexy woman.

"And you can leave your little idea with me. I'll see what I can arrange. Oh Michael, that is so good..."