Authors: Fiona Locke
With my mom it’s the same old nagging. When are you going to college? When are you going to meet a nice boy (emphasis on ‘nice’)? What are you going to do with your life? Jesus.
My dad is only slightly more tolerable, with his droning history professor voice, quizzing me on names and dates about the island prison. Bor-
ing
. If I do decide to go to college I definitely won’t be following in his footsteps.
I really couldn’t care less about the tour of the Rock. Or the view of San Francisco from the ferry. I mean, it’s a cool city and all, but like, I’ve seen it in a million movies. I’m only interested in one kind of scenery: the male kind.
And there are some cute guys on the tour. There’s the English boy. And another one whose accent I can’t place. Hungarian? Oh, and the guy who raised and lowered the gate to let us stampede onto the ferry. Though he’s too clean-cut for me, really.
But best of all were the three prison guards. Well, they’re not really guards. Just tour guides in uniforms. They
looked
convincing enough. And they were
hot
. Aaron, Jack and Michael. I made sure to read their name badges.
I sucked in my breath when I saw the handcuffs dangling from Jack’s belt. He’s the youngest, probably in his mid-twenties. Blond, boyish and sorta cute. Totally fuck-able. I made sure to squeeze past him at one point –
really
close – and brush against his crotch. He couldn’t take his eyes off me after that. My mom was scandalised.
Then we were in D Block – solitary confinement. The prisoners called it Sunset Strip, to go with the other corridors between cellblocks: Broadway, Park Avenue, Michigan Avenue… Well, there was some old guy, an ex-prisoner, who used to pull a button off his prison outfit and throw it in the air and hunt around in the dark for it. I looked straight at Jack and with a flick of my red hair said I could think of much more interesting ways to amuse myself, all alone in the dark. He actually blushed!
Aaron flashed me a warning glance that went straight to my cunt. He was clearly the one in charge. Fortyish. Tall, lean and wiry with jet-black hair shot through with grey. Wicked goatee. His stern look inspired even raunchier thoughts and it was all I could do not to ask him to demonstrate how the handcuffs worked.
It was chilly in the prison, but I had dressed to impress in a white ballet wraparound top. No bra, of course; I don’t really need them. The top showed off my belly and the little gold ring in my navel. And the cold air showed off the peaks of my nipples.
I waited until Aaron and Jack were behind me and then I bent over to tie my shoe. My tight jeans sit so low on my hips they nearly come off when I do that, but it’s worth it. If the view of my hot pink thong above the waistline wasn’t enough, they got to see the cleft of my cheeks too. And I know I’ve got a nice ass. They weren’t complaining.
The third one, Michael, was describing how the cells locked when I did it and I heard his voice catch in his throat. Just for a second. But it was a meaningful second. He didn’t seem like the easily ruffled type. He’s probably not much older than Jack, but the glasses add distinction.
The rest of the tour was totally boring, but I managed to have fun anyway. I always do. Especially when it’s at the expense of my uptight parents. I’m a merciless tease and I enjoyed getting the three guys worked up. Perhaps they’d all jerk off in the bathroom later. Thinking about me. I’d certainly be thinking about
them
.
But now that we’re back on the ferry, my parents have to go and ruin the mood.
‘Why do you always have to embarrass us, Sara?’
‘Oh, come on, Mom, like you were never my age.’
‘I had too much self-respect to flaunt myself like that in front of strangers,’ she says with a sniff.
I roll my eyes. ‘What
ever
.’
Now it’s my dad’s turn. I try to tune him out, watching the little drama unfolding on the ferry gangway. A child has dropped something in the water and from his screams you’d think the world was coming to an end. Boo-hoo-hoo.
My dad is still pontificating and I decide I’ve had enough. If they don’t give me some room to breathe I’m gonna start screaming myself. The ferry’s just about to leave and I suddenly have a brilliant idea. Ours was the last tour of the day. And this is the last ferry to the mainland.
‘I have to go to the bathroom,’ I announce. For my dad’s benefit I add, ‘Female trouble.’ He looks away and my mom sighs dramatically.
Then I make my escape. I slip past the cluster of stragglers on the gangway, back onto the island. I stand at the end of the line, as though I’m just having a last look at the prison. Then I inch away from the crowd until I reach the dockside buildings. It’s ridiculously easy. No one even notices; they’re too focused on the bawling child. The evening sky throws convenient shadows and I duck behind a dark clump of bushes and crouch down to wait. The kid’s father finally manages to rescue the toy and the ungrateful brat snatches it away. I smother a laugh.
Within moments the ferry sets off across the black velvet bay, taking my parents with it. There is a moment’s surge of childish fright, but the sense of freedom soon replaces
it
. I’m alone! They’ll be panicking very soon, searching the bathroom and peering overboard to see if I’ve jumped.
I have no idea what will happen when they discover I’m gone, but they’ll probably have to turn the ferry around and come back for me. That will be a-whole-nother lecture and a major guilt trip, but at least for now I have the precious gift of some time to myself. The entire island is mine.
I smile and begin winding my way up the switchback path towards the dark hulk of the prison. It looks even more foreboding under the deepening sky. It’s cold and blustery and I’m starting to shiver in my skimpy outfit. No problem. I’ll be inside soon. Maybe I’ll explore some of the areas they didn’t take us to on the tour.
‘Hey, you!’
I jump like I’ve been shot, my heart pounding wildly. I can’t tell where the voice came from. And the shadows make it impossible to see very far. There’s the sound of running boots and I don’t know which way to turn. Terrified, I run towards the ruins of the warden’s house as the voices shout to each other over the wind.
‘Where is she?’
‘Over here!’
‘Get her!’
‘Stop or I’ll shoot!’
With a little cry I skid to a halt, covering my head and closing my eyes. I’m in deep shit now. The boots slow to a walk, crunching on the gravel, and I cower as they draw nearer.
‘Get your hands where I can see them!’
Imagining a policeman’s gun trained on me, I raise my trembling hands, spreading my fingers to show I’m unarmed. Me and my stupid ideas.
‘I’m sorry,’ I start to say. ‘I missed the ferry and I just –’
‘Quiet! Down on your knees, hands behind your neck.’
Tears well in my eyes. I’ve never been arrested before. My voice cracks. ‘I’m sorry …’
‘She doesn’t follow orders very well, does she?’
‘No, she doesn’t. But then she wouldn’t be trying to escape if she could follow orders.’
‘Wouldn’t have been sent here in the first place.’
What the hell are they talking about? I wince as I kneel on the hard ground, blinking back the tears and wondering how much trouble I’m in. And how I can get out of it.
There is a metallic clink and the cold feel of steel around my right wrist. A rough hand repositions my arm behind my back and secures my left wrist beside it.
‘On your feet, girl.’
I stumble up awkwardly, still formulating excuses, when I find myself face to face with Aaron. My mouth falls open and I see Jack and Michael off to my left.
Before I can speak, Aaron turns me towards the prison and plants his hand firmly in my lower back. ‘March,’ he says gruffly.
A surge of heat floods my groin as I take in the situation. It warms to an insistent little throb as they lead me back to the cellhouse. I had my fun earlier. Now it’s their turn to play.
I jump at the clang of metal as Jack unlocks one of the Broadway cells – C Block, I think. He slides the door open and I peer inside at the hard wooden bed on the left. The rooms are only five by nine feet, like a cage in some ancient zoo. On the tour, everyone had filed into them for the geeky experience of being Al Capone for a few seconds. Now the thought of being locked in fills me with perverse excitement.
‘What’s your name?’ Michael demands.
‘Sara.’
He laughs scornfully. ‘Your surname, girl. Or weren’t you paying attention when we explained the rules? Prisoners are addressed by their surnames only.’
Blushing, I whisper, ‘Delaney.’
Jack is leaning against the bars of the open cell with a cocky smile, his arms crossed over his chest. ‘I don’t think she was listening to a word we said earlier.’
Behind me, Aaron unlocks my left wrist and leads me towards the cell. ‘Obviously,’ he agrees. ‘Or she’d know that unauthorised absence means disciplinary action.’
His words make me light-headed and I can barely stand. I’m expecting him to shove me inside and slam the door,
locking
me in. But he stops just outside the door and looks back at Jack. ‘Give me your cuffs,’ he orders.
Jack obeys, relinquishing them without question while I wonder what Aaron has in mind. He locks the second pair around my left wrist. Then he pushes me backwards roughly, against the cold bars.
‘Arms up, Delaney,’ he says sharply, like a drill sergeant. ‘Over your head.’
‘Look, I –’
His eyes flash and he draws himself up. ‘You are required to obey all orders without delay or argument. It’s very simple. If you break the rules, you will be punished.’
It’s a direct quote from the prison rules they’d read on the tour. His words make my pussy ache with the dirty thrill of powerlessness. I do as he says, melting under his authority. I’m astonished at my compliance.
The handcuffs clatter noisily as Aaron locks them around the bars. The horizontal crossbar traps my arms high above my head, stretching and displaying me.
The three jailers stand back, surveying their prisoner with satisfaction.
Michael turns to his superior and murmurs something. I only catch the phrase ‘taught a lesson’. It makes me squirm.
‘Oh yes, she’ll be punished,’ Aaron says with the sombre demeanour of a hanging judge. ‘But if you like you can play with her first.’
I look at him, wide-eyed and pleading. But he’s in total control. Immune to girlie tricks.
I can’t help but notice the bulge in Jack’s uniform trousers and he catches me looking. He shifts his feet and I grin. I’m thankful my own arousal isn’t as obvious.
Michael watches the exchange and he slips the police truncheon from his belt. A symbol of power, meant for subduing prisoners. He smacks it gently against his palm, staring me down. I lower my eyes to the floor. Placing the end of the truncheon underneath my chin, he makes me raise my head. I flush deeply and do my best to look contrite.
Now that Michael has cowed me, Jack steps forward. With boyish eagerness, he cups my breasts, squeezing gently. I can’t suppress a little moan as my body responds. Then he reaches around behind me, his fingers feeling along my spine for the ties that hold my top together.
I whimper. ‘No …’
Suddenly Michael strikes the bars with the truncheon, startling me into silence with a resounding
CLANG
! He glances over his shoulder at Aaron and smiles, enjoying this sanctioned sadism.
Jack unties the knot and peels the flimsy shirt open, unwrapping me slowly like a gift. My nipples pucker at the exposure and he lets the flaps of my top hang at my sides, framing my small pert breasts.
Jack cups his hand over my right breast and slides his finger languidly back and forth across the hard bud of my nipple, sending electric currents of sensation through my body. I draw in a sharp breath and he seems to like my response.
‘Good girl,’ he says.
Michael murmurs agreement and reaches out to tweak my left nipple. I twist away with a little yip as Jack does to the same thing to my right. My cunt pulses in response and I strain against the handcuffs. I’m not going anywhere.
Michael places the truncheon in my lower back and I gasp at the touch of the cold polished wood. He pushes firmly, urging me to arch my back. I comply, blushing furiously at the way it thrusts my tits out for them.
Relishing my helplessness, both men lower their mouths to my chest. Behind them I see Aaron watching and I shut my eyes against the humiliation of being used so shamelessly in front of him. Both tongues probe and flutter against my nipples, stimulating me almost beyond endurance.
Then Michael raises his head, replacing his mouth with cruel fingers that twist and pinch, making me cry out softly. ‘There are lots of ways to punish a naughty girl. Especially in her naughty places.’ He slips his hand down between my legs and gives my pussy a sharp swat through my jeans. I jump.
‘But if you’d like us to stop, all you have to do is say, “Please, sir, I’m ready for my punishment now”.’
I turn scarlet, horrified at the prospect. I moan with shame and then Jack’s teeth close gently on my nipple. I’m grateful for the handcuffs; I wouldn’t be able to stand up on my own. When I sag against the bars I feel the truncheon press against my back again.
My body jerks in response to every little nip and flick of Jack’s tongue. I maintain the lewd position while Michael plays the truncheon over my body, making me quiver. Suddenly, he thrusts it between my legs. The position forces me on tiptoe and I bite my lip as he grinds it against my dampening crotch. I clamp my thighs around it, overwhelmed by the sensations.
Jack has my tits to himself now and he watches my face as he rolls the nipples between his fingers, increasing the pressure until I wince and then relaxing his grip. A sharp tweak. Then a kiss. My head is spinning.
Michael removes the truncheon and as his fingers smack my crotch again I know I won’t be able to take much more of their torture. I’m terrified by the threat of punishment, but I’m also thrilled to the core. I have no choice. My face burning, I force myself to say it. My voice is barely audible.