This was originally published as part of a novel-length story
ZORA
“I’ve often wondered if I might have gone into the criminology side of the job myself” said Zora, lounging in Katya’s bed with a glass of tea. Katya rolled over onto her stomach, the cuts on her back leaving thin crimson smears on the sheet.
“It was very different when we were young” she replied. “Most of us in the department today have studied and worked abroad – apart from the youngsters”.
“I’m not proud of how we treated the prisoners back then,” Zora said, seriously “I resigned a long time ago, before dissent was fashionable”.
“You don’t have to tell me that” Katya assured her “I understand”. She smiled at Zora, a heavily built but well-proportioned woman of a certain age with pleasant, open features. Zora flashed a charming smile in return.
“The staff of the Special Prison used to torment the ‘deviant inmates’, it was an open secret, and the male guards were much worse than us. We were all crass and vulgar”. She relaxed and began to tell her story “They were kept behind bars in isolation cells and we would go down there between shifts to taunt them. I picked on a beautiful youth called Pierre who had been arrested and held without charge since the Carcosa Club was raided after the affaire Marie-Claude”. She hesitated. “Looking back, I know I became obsessed with him. It seems bizarre now to think that I once felt that way about such a man”.
“I don’t understand” Katya said, genuinely perplexed “If Pierre came into this room now, I would beg him to whip me to death, or skewer me alive”. A faraway look came across her face and for a moment she seemed to look right through Zora into a great void behind her.
“No, you don’t understand me” Zora confirmed, taking another sip of her tea and setting the glass down “or, at least, I didn’t understand me. I denied my true nature; I thought that I could fill the emptiness with cruelty and dominance of others. I think I tried to control the thoughts I had about Pierre’s history by trying to control him. Him! At first, I taunted him much as always. I stood near the bars, but beyond the reach of a prisoner’s arms, and whispered obscene suggestions. The whole country had read about what happened at the club, and I would use the details from the government newspapers to try to get a reaction”.
“You can imagine the kind of thing” she went on. “I said that I wanted to know how it feels to be whipped and cut; I said that I had once kissed two boys at a party and I was curious about the women who were passed around and shared at the club. Then I would pout and say what a shame it was that he was locked up forever. After a few days, I became frustrated with his quiet smile and I began to show him some thigh and some cleavage, flaunting myself. Teasing always made them either drool and beg or else fly into a rage, but I got no reaction. If anything, he seemed to be amused by me.
I found that I was thinking about seeing Pierre all the time, like a silly schoolgirl. I spent hours staring into space choosing what to say or do next time we were alone, something that would finally break him. Then there came an opportunity”.
Pierre sat up when the door opened and Zora brought a female prisoner into the room - closing and locking the door behind her. She smiled triumphantly at his reaction.
“Yes” she said, gloating, “You know Yelitza, don’t you? At the club, you called her the Captain’s Woman”. Yelitza looked down at her shoes. Her hair had been cropped and she was wearing the regulation prison tunic. Pierre stood up and came to the bars of his cage.
Zora slipped off her uniform jacket and unfastened her tie, languidly unbuttoning her crisp, white shirt so that it fell open to the waist. “Do you like what you see, Pierre?” she purred, wriggling out of her skirt. She smoothed her hands over her breasts and down her flanks and shamelessly jutted her hips towards him. “You want to touch me, Pierre, don’t you?” she said, and licked her lips. Her statuesque body was now clad only in a red satin suspender-belt and sheer hose.
Pierre closed his eyes and turned his face to the ceiling. His head came down suddenly – his eyes smiled into Zora’s but he bared his teeth in an animal snarl.
Enjoying herself, Zora turned away from him – and looked back over her shoulder to blow him a kiss before stepping up to where Yelitza stood meekly. Slowly, she unbuttoned the front of the older woman’s tunic and pulled the coarse fabric away from her ample curves.
“Such luscious flesh” she purred “but treated so cruelly”. She made Yelitza turn to face the wall and stepped back, so that Pierre could see the fresh scars on her round thighs and full arse, and down the tanned flesh of her back. Zora then took a heavy leather riding-crop from her bag, looking sidelong at him as she did so.
“She must have made this in the workshop” she said, casually. “I confiscated it when I found her being thrashed by B Wing’s queen bitch”. She rubbed the shaft of the crop up and down Yelitza’s cunt; she stiffened but betrayed no other reaction. Zora sniffed the air and smiled wickedly. “She is still wet” she said.
“Command me” Yelitza spoke without lifting her head.
Zora was delighted that she had broken so easily. She sat astride the plain office chair used by visitors and thrust her crotch forward. “Come and lick me” she growled.
“Obey her” said Pierre’s modulated voice.
Yelitza lifted her eyes to Zora for the first time, with a look of naked lust. She crawled between the younger woman’s splayed thighs to lick and suck eagerly up and down the fork of her crotch. Zora watched Pierre from beneath thick lashes, stroking Yelitza’s back and arse with the tip of the crop.
“Would you like to reach through the bars and thrash her yourself?” Zora asked before voicing a low groan at the cunning tongue darting into her arsehole; she closed her eyes and luxuriated in the slavish attention. Her round breasts rose and fell. A fine sheen of sweat made her toned body glow in the electric light. Panting open-mouthed she tugged and twisted at her stiff nipples.
Pierre looked on, impassive and unmoved. Zora pushed Yelitza away and swayed up to the bars, dangerously close, sinking slowly to her knees before Pierre. She brushed her nipples with her thumbs, looking him boldly in the eyes, and then sucked lasciviously at her fingers, churning her wet tongue between them until they glistened moistly.
“Tell me what you want to do to me” she breathed. He leant against the cell wall with an arrogant hand on his hip.
“You want this, don’t you?” she demanded, sliding a finger to and fro over her clit. She slapped at her pubes and bared her teeth at him, “You want to kill me”. She slapped harder and faster, “Say it, you bastard!” she gasped, “Say what you want to do to me” and slid to the floor writhing open-legged on her back for him, her fingers rammed hard into her cunt. Pierre put his hand into the deep pocket of his yellow prison fatigue trousers, and Zora began to shiver like a leaf, and gave a series of little cries.
“Yes!” she groaned, “Yes! Play with it for me – just like all the others”! But he produced a vicious little knife, crafted from a shard of glass and a brush-handle. Helpless in the throes of an all-consuming passion, Zora could only watch as Yelitza stepped past her and pressed her arse and shoulders up against the bars of Pierre’s cell, throwing her head back and offering herself.
“The Pallid Mask” she cried, and Pierre put a long arm through the bars to clutch her heavy breast fiercely while the blade in his other hand opened her bared throat. Her lifeblood sprayed across the room, spattering Zora and making her scream with wild abandon as her climax seized her.
It took a long time before Zora’s tremors subsided, and she found the strength to crawl over the linoleum to where Yelitza lay dead. Pierre regarded her coldly as she dragged herself up the bars and turned her back to him. She tilted her face to the ceiling, adopting the same sacrificial position, and waited.
Tears had started in Zora’s eyes; Katya took her hand and pressed it to her lips.
“I felt his hand on the small of my back, so I took a firm grip on the bars beside my hips to brace myself” she continued. “And I felt the handle of the knife forced into my cunt, then immediately pulled out and rammed hard into my arse. I had to cry out in pain. He told me to stay like that, and I obeyed, bent double with the knife sticking out of me for an eternity, waiting to be taken. At last he wrenched it out and gave me my orders. I dumped Yelitza’s body in a corner of the library and disposed of the knife; no-one would investigate the death of a prisoner with any thoroughness. When I finished wiping the blood from outside Pierre’s cell – naked again, on my knees - he finally deigned to use my mouth. At the last moment, he dragged my head away and shot onto the floor and had me crawl on my belly to lick it up. Then he commanded me to stay away from him”.
“Until he sends for me” Zora’s voice trailed away. Katya took her in her arms and stroked her hair.
“I shall give you to them” she said. Zora wiped her eyes and smiled back at her. Almost shyly, she reached out to touch Katya’s face.
“You deserve more, my darling” she breathed, and Katya lay back obediently on the bed to give herself, exposing the spattering of small, round burns which decorated her breasts and stomach and her open thighs and crotch. Zora took a cigarette from the bedside and lit it. She let the smoke drift sensuously from between her parted lips and delicately brushed the glowing tip against Katya’s throbbing nipple. “Will they hang me?” she murmured.
“The men may hang or behead or stab us” Katya panted, taking the pain. “We are just meat now”. Zora’s lids drooped and her nostrils flared – and then the bedside alarm clock sounded. They froze and gazed longingly at each other. When the buzzing finished, she drew on her cigarette again.
“You must go to the kennels now” she said, dreamily. Katya sat up and took her by the shoulders, pulling their faces close together and breathing the smoke from her crimson lips.
“Come with me” she said in a low voice. Zora’s eyes melted.