The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica

by Barbara Cardy

Throughout the journey she’d been aware of sidelong glances from other passengers, mainly men, weighing her up and down. Well let them look, but several times she’d caught herself tugging her mini skirt down as if in the belief that it has somehow ridden up her thighs. And she’d blushed furiously when she’d noticed the men watching that as well.

  At least on the bus there seemed to be a number of other women dressed at least as brassily as she was; most younger and several with small infants in tow.

  When the bus finally stopped and she, and they, got off at Barnfield, saw the high fences topped with razor wire and the familiar forbidding sign “Her Majesty’s Prison North Lodge”, she realized why.

  Steve was three years her senior and ran his own small jeweller’s shop in the east London suburb where they lived. They had been married for three years and dated for a further three before that. Vanessa had liked him from the moment they had met. He was a bit of a Jack-the-Lad, all right, but he made her laugh. And she loved the way he was able to lavish jewellery, gold and silver, upon her and the way there always seemed to be a big wad of cash in his back pocket.

  What she had genuinely not realized until the day her world collapsed with the policeman’s knock at the door was that Steve had been “fencing” most of the stolen goods in the area for years.

  He got four years’ time for the crime and that was what she was doing stood there in the middle of a godforsaken spot in the Suffolk countryside.

  By now she’d been “visiting” often enough that she knew the drill by heart. Friends and relatives gathered in a large reception area, you had to hand over your Visiting Order in exchange for your “number”, produce your passport to have your identity checked and then your hand stamped with an ultra-violet marker.

  You were only allowed to take a maximum of £20 into the prison visiting area. All other personal possessions – bags, phones, keys, papers – had to be put into a locker. Numbers were called out in batches: 1—10, 11—20,21—30 and so on; and when your turn came you made your way through the electronically-operated sets of barred grilles and into the prison itself.

  In the entrance to the visiting area coats and jackets were examined, you went through a metal detector and were given a pat-down body search. Finally you had to line up against a wall while a trained sniffer dog gave you a once-over for drugs and then it was in for the visit.

  Except that day was different . . . The dog was a friendly, chocolate-brown spaniel that wove excitedly in and out of people’s legs until it got to Vanessa, at which point it simply sat down in front of her and refused to move.

  A female prison officer came across to her, took her numbered ticket and consulted her clipboard: “Sorry about this Mrs . . . Clarke, but I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to come with me.”

  Silently she followed the officer down a long corridor lined with what looked like steel, cell doors until they reached a room at the very end. It was large, white-tiled, brightly lit, although windowless, with an examination table in the middle beneath a large light. There was a full-length adjustable mirror on wheels, a small bench to one side, something that looked very much a shooting stick – a metal pole set into the floor – topped with some sort of canvas sling and what looked like a medicine cabinet up on one wall.

  The officer virtually squared up to Vanessa. She was shorter by two or three inches, although Vanessa realised this was probably solely down to her stilettos. She had short blond hair framing her round, pale face and a solid, almost stocky build. She also had a natural air of authority, a “toughness” of presence that Vanessa found disconcerting.

  “Right. We can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way. Do you understand?”

  Vanessa could only nod dumbly by way of a reply.

  The officer lowered her clipboard and fixed Vanessa with a stare: “I asked you a question. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, er, yes.”

  The officer continued to glare at her while the silence grew between them until it was almost painful: “Yes, what?”

  “Oh, er, sorry. Yes, Miss. I mean, yes, Ma’am.”

  “Right, that’s better. Now, Clarke, as you know, the drug dog picked you out at the line-up and they’re never wrong. So I have to ask you the following two questions. Firstly, do you have any controlled substances, Class 1, 2 or 3, about your person?”

  “No, Ma’am,” Vanessa replied truthfully.

  “Secondly have you eaten, smoked or injected any controlled substances or other substances such as solvents, glues or aerosols, within the last week?”

  “No, Ma’am,” Vanessa lied.

  “Right, Clarke, fine. Now I’m afraid I’m going to have to carry out a strip search. Please remove all your clothing and place it on the bench over there.”

  Vanessa looked around herself in a mixture of desperation and horror for anything resembling a cubicle or even a screen.

  “Well, get on with it!”

  “But, but where do I change?”

  “Right here, Clarke and I have to watch you do it. Don’t worry, though, you’ve got nothing I haven’t seen hundreds of times before.”

  “But that’s disgusting. It’s disgraceful! I’m not stripping off in front of you.”

  “Well, that is your right and your choice. But I’m afraid that if you want to see that husband of yours then you’re going to have to. You could always ask for another officer to be present but, as I’m sure you’re aware, we’re very short staffed and there are no other female officers on duty on this wing so it would have to be a male officer. I’m sure you wouldn’t want that . . . and even if you did, since you’re a woman and he’s a man, I’d still have to be present anyway. So I can’t see that’s much of an improvement, really.”

  Reluctantly, a highly embarrassed Vanessa realized the officer was right and wasn’t joking. Having come all this way, she wasn’t going to go back to London without seeing Steve. So she walked over to the bench, facing the wall with her back to the officer, and carefully undressed down to her underwear, stilettos and stockings before turning back.

  The officer snorted in derision: “Very fetching, but not what the doctor ordered. When I said strip I meant just that. I want you bare-assed naked or you can just put it all back on again and go home.”

  Blinking back hot tears of shame, Vanessa shed the last of her clothes and vestiges of her modesty . . . although she still kept one arm across her breasts and the other covering her pubic mound.

  “Over here, Clarke in the middle of the room!” the officer barked. “And you can cut all that ’Miss Innocent’ crap for a start. Hands up, behind your neck and lock your fingers together. Turn your toes out and bend slightly from the knees. Do it! Now!

  “I’m afraid I’ve got to go and search your clothes again now and see if I can find whatever it was our canine friend sniffed out. You stay right here and don’t move a muscle. Understand?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” and it was only as the officer moved away from in front of her and over to the bench that Vanessa realized she had been deliberately placed in front of the long mirror and had no choice but to gaze at her own humiliatingly naked reflection. It was acutely embarrassing but Vanessa realized with an almost physical jolt that she was actually enjoying being at the beck and call of this stern young blonde, subject to her every whim and helpless to resist because of the power and hold she had over her.

  The officer seemed to be gone a long time and, when she got back, walked round and round Vanessa two or three times, stopping directly in front of her. Vanessa realized that without stilettos she was indeed the smaller of the two women, and lowered her eyes, unable to meet the other woman’s steely gaze.

  “Well, that’s much more like it, isn’t it, Clarke? Not quite the snotty bitch any more? It’s amazing how much more obedient people get if you take their clothes and their dignity away from them. And you’d be a lot more obedient still if I had you in here for even a month or so.

  “Now, remember I still have to do th
is body search, and if you want to see that old man of yours then you’ll do exactly what you’re told, speak and move only when you’re told. Is that clear, Clarke?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “First things first. I have to have a look inside your mouth. So open wide, tongue right out and say ’Ah’ for me.”

  But when Vanessa shook her head, without another word, the officer took her right nipple between finger and thumb, lifting her breast up and away from her chest until it was stretched taut and then began to pinch the tender flesh with gradually increasing force.

  At last Vanessa’s legs began to quiver with the pain and she opened her mouth to draw a long, ragged gasp of breath: “Ahhhhh!”

  The officer stopped immediately, but only to turn her attention to Vanessa’s other nipple: “And again,” until she had literally wrung another gasp of pain.

  “Good. Well done. I think we understand one another. Right, Clarke, I want you bent over that stool arrangement. Legs spread and when you’re comfortable clasp the back of your calves with your hands. Don’t move until I tell you.”

  Dumbly Vanessa did as she was told. The humiliation was almost too much to bear, although she realized it was about to get worse. What an obscenely lewd spectacle she must present: buttocks forced up into the air and the plump slash of her sex peeping out from between her parted legs.

  The officer stood in front of her, rolled up her sleeves and snapped on a pair of latex gloves: “I’ve got to examine you both anally and vaginally,” she said, almost kindly. “I don’t know whether you take it up the arse – doesn’t do much for me, I have to say, although I understand some people seem to like it – but it’s not the worst thing in the world and I’ll use lots of KY jelly. Then we’ll do the other side.

  “I’ve searched your clothes and there’s nothing there . . . but the dogs just don’t pick on you if there’s nothing to find.”

  Miserably Vanessa wondered if she should tell the officer about the joint she’d smoked the previous evening, but realized it was too late and nothing was going to stop the officer completing her search now.

  Coming round to stand behind Vanessa, the officer squeezed a large portion of KY jelly from a tube onto her index finger and gently applied it to the whorl of Vanessa’s anus. It felt cold and slightly clammy, but once she was lubricated the officer began caressing the taut, pink globes of Vanessa’s buttocks through the latex gloves.

  It felt good, and after a few minutes Vanessa felt herself starting to relax . . . and that was when the officer slipped her index finger into her sphincter and in right up to the knuckle. Vanessa grunted in surprise more than anything, since the feeling was strange but not exactly unpleasant. And she relaxed still further as the officer’s finger began to slide backwards and forwards inside her, describing ever-increasing circles as it explored every inch of her back passage.

  “Good girl. Well done,” she murmured. “See, that wasn’t so bad after all, was it? Nearly done now.”

  The finger was removed from her backside and Vanessa heard the officer snap on a fresh pair of the latex gloves and felt a finger very gently probe the entrance to her sex. “Do we need some more KY? No, I thought not.”

  Then the finger was up inside her. Vanessa could gauge her own heat and wetness against its relative chill and she gave a little moan of pleasure.

  “My, my. We are getting a little hot under the collar, aren’t we?” And this finger too began to make a thorough examination of her most intimate place.

  “Don’t suppose you’ve been getting much fun unless it’s been on your own. Have you?”

  “No, Ma’am.”

  “Like me to continue?” And the first finger was joined by a second.

  “Yes. I mean yes, please, Ma’am.”

  And then the fingers were replaced by a thumb while they sought out Vanessa’s clitoris and, slick with her own juices, they stroked and caressed and teased and squeezed at her hard little bud until they brought her to an expert climax.

  “Ohhhhhh! Ooooooh! Oh, wow! Thank you, Ma’am.”

  “Well, well quite the randy little slut, aren’t we?” And the officer gave her a resounding smack across each of her buttock cheeks, each one raising a livid red palm-print almost immediately.

  “Right, that’s it, young lady. Get yourself dressed and down to see that husband of yours before visiting time’s over for the afternoon. You might find sitting down on our hard chairs a little uncomfortable but it’ll give you something to think about, if not talk about. You’re obviously clean but next time try and be a little more honest with me . . . it’ll save us both a lot of time and trouble.”

  “Hi, doll, you look great. What kept you?” Steve joked as they hugged and kissed.

  “Yeah, sorry I’m late, but you’re never going to believe this. I got pulled by one of the sniffer dogs and they gave me a strip search. Nothing to find, of course, but I still can’t understand why they picked me.”

  There were perhaps twenty or thirty round tables with four chairs at each spaced out around the large room, virtually all occupied, and Steve led her over to his allocated space, off to one corner and by a large square column.

  There was a raised dais along one wall at which sat half a dozen prison officers monitoring proceedings: “It was that blond one, in the middle, who frisked me. Bitch,” Vanessa whispered.

  “That’s Officer Todd, Pam. We call her ’Barbie’ – when she’s not around.”

  “Well, she doesn’t look like much of a doll to me.”

  “No, silly, it’s short for ’barbed wire knickers’. Some of the guys think she’s a ’lez’ but I’m not so sure, although she can be a bit rough at times. She didn’t hurt you, did she?”

  “Hurt me? No, not exactly. But it certainly wasn’t much fun.”

  “What, the strip search? No, I suppose not, but it’s part of the way of life in here. You just get used to it.”

  Physical contact between prisoners and relatives is prohibited, but North Lodge, like most other gaols, took a fairly relaxed view of what was and was not permissible.

  Steve and Vanessa sat facing each other, her legs parted either side of his, and within a few minutes his hands had crept inside her puffa jacket and were tenderly caressing her breasts through the thin blouse and bra.

  “You always did have great tits, babe. Christ, that feels good.”

  “Mmm, yes it does. I miss you so much,” Vanessa murmured in reply. “You’re making me so horny. You can see my nipples are stuck out like bullets. They’re so hard, they’re aching.”

  Steve leaned forward as if he was going to whisper something, but instead he took one of her ear lobes into his mouth, nibbling and sucking on the morsel of flesh. Then his hands were resting on the tops of her thighs, only to slide down the outside of each one – so slowly it almost seemed like an accident – and then up under her mini-skirt. He suddenly stiffened when his fingers found the ridge separating stocking-top from the creamy flesh of her thigh, and his eyes widened: “You’re bloody marvellous, but if I’m not careful I’ll spend the next fortnight going blind over you!”

  Then those fingers continued their journey, tracing their path back up over the tops of her thighs – although now hidden beneath her skirt – and down into the hot valley between until they met at the plump mound of her sex. Her heat and arousal were obvious as he stroked her through the thin panties: “Looks like I’m not the only one who’s gagging for it. You’re soaking,” he breathed into her ear.

  And with a jolt Vanessa realized that not only was it true but she was acutely aware of the burning in her buttocks where Officer Todd had spanked her: so hot she was surprised Steve couldn’t feel that as well. And she squirmed in discomfort on the hard wooden seat as Steve’s fingers continued to torment and tease her.

  Visiting time was over all too soon. The prisoners remained in their seats until all their friends and relatives had left and then were lined up and marched back to their wings.

  “N
ot you, Clarke. Over here to one side,” Officer Todd barked. “Don’t think we didn’t see what you two were getting up to over there in your corner. You know we had to strip-search your wife on the way in and, as a result, you know we’re going to have to do the same to you now. You also know we didn’t find anything but you might tell the silly little mare to lay off whatever it was she was taking for at least 48 hours the next time she’s coming in to see you . . . unless of course she wants me to give her another going over.”

  Officer Todd escorted Steve to another examination room, identical to the first except it also contained a single wooden chair with a very high, straight back.

  “OK, you know the drill better than I do. Strip off.” Officer Todd put on another pair of latex gloves, lubricated a finger with KY and, with Steve bent over the stool, briskly carried out the rectal examination and expertly massaged his prostate until his cock was achingly hard . . . not that it took long or much doing in his obviously aroused state.

  “And I’ll tell you another thing, Clarke. The strip search wasn’t the only thing I gave your wife. She also got a bloody good finger-fucking. Came all over my hand she did. Randy little slut, isn’t she? I’ll bet she’s going to be tossing herself off under the covers tonight. Just don’t know who she’s going to be fantasizing about . . . you or me.”

  Neighbours

  Marie Gordon

  I was jobless and broke when I moved from the city to a low-rent cubby-hole in the county of Hinton. It was furnished in a sort of way, comfortable enough with one large room divided into lounge/bedroom/kitchen. I knew it wouldn’t be long before word got around that they had a lesso in their midst, and curiosity would soon get the better of them.

  Sure enough, one afternoon two weeks later there was a knock on my door. I opened it to a rather plump woman in her thirties, who stood there, holding a cake.

  “Hi,” she said. “I’m Amanda, live a few doors down. Baked you a cake.”

  “Lovely, thanks, Amanda.” I took the cake. “The name’s Jane and please come in.”

  She sat on my couch.