I was awakened from a deep and dreamless sl**p by the sound of the cell door being unlocked. My reaction was one of terror as I did not know if they were coming to take me to another "session" as they so comically referred to it. Dragged down the hall into a brightly lighted room and then beaten or r**ed. Sometimes I felt the guards did it just to relieve the boredom. I've lost count how many times that room heard the sound of my screams.
It was a new prisoner. I was filled with a strange joy that I would have someone to speak to. It had had been a while since I had companionship here in the cell. The last, a young black woman, did not last long. She spoke very little about what brought her here, but it had to have something terrble because a day did not pass when she was not dragged off and moments later her screams echoed throughout the cell block. This intentional for us to hear what was going on. When they brought her back she just curled up on her bunk, her lean brown body just a series of twitches and tremors. I desperately wished to go over and put my arms around her. We were osenvitely all here for the same reason: we were lesbians. The strange irony was so were the guards. Big butch dykes who's prosture and behaviour was more masculine than femimine. The power they had over us had turned them into something that was neither or.
I blinked up at the harsh light spilling in from the outside corridor, still somewhat sl**p-blind, but slowly my eyes readjusted and began to focus. The two guards were laughing and whispering low between themselves. Behind them I could just see the new arrival. As she was pushed forward I could clearly see that she had already endured her introductory interrogation. She wobbled and swayed and appeared ready to collapse at any moment. She was nude as all prisoners were when initially brought in, marched through the entire prison yard which provoked a symphony of hoots from caged inmates, assailed by a dictionary of vulgarities. When I went through this ordeal I looked around and saw not women whom I might have loved in different circumstances but a****ls reduced to those most primal and savage impulses. It was no longer sex they desired but power over the weaker inmates.
The guards shoved the girl forward. I cower in fear of being seen as too curious which could provoke them to haul me off. The girl could not have been older than eighteen. I've seen younger girls being brought in....much younger girls. Oh, god, what could terrible thing could they have possibly done to justify their punishment. When she was a couple of feet inside the door was slammed shut and them like a marionette who's strings had just been cut she began to fall. I managed to catch her before she struck the solid stone floor. This sudden proximity to another female body brought to the surface conflicting emotions. The sexual deprivation has had it's effect on me.
She was tall but very sleander, her breasts very full and I was very conscious of their weight pressing against my arm. As I gently eased the girl down onto her bunk I could not help having flashes of being in bed with my last girlfriend Alysia a lovely student of blended heritage. I was her first lesbian lover. I had to restrain myseld from letting my hands roam over this new girl's body although I could not help but mentally absorb all her features. As I lifted her legs gently onto the cot I found myself inclining my head in an exaggerated manner that was blatantly obvious of my intent: I wanted to smell another woman's vagina. I leaned in as close as shame would allow me and inhaled that wonderful perfume that was tainted by the prison soap. Such wild thought came flashing through my mind at that very moment.
"My name is Kayla," came the soft whisper of a voice and snapped me back into reality.
She was trying to push herself up into a sitting position. I was still holding her leg and stealing glimpses at the dark triangulation of hair just below her smooth flat belly. Later that night I will lay on my bunk with my back turned to the cell door a masturbate myself. It is my sole vice now. I fantasized about Alysia and our bodies tangled together in the most absurd manner. She was an enthusiastic and energetic lover but in my fantasies we became superhuman.
"I'm Pam,' I responded after that protracted silence. I looked at her lovely face and smiled a weak and weary smile.
"Why are we here?" she asked.
"We're dykes," I said in a tone that was harsher than I intended but there was no sense candy coating the reality.
"But we were hurting anyone?" Kayla said.
I quickly pressed my finger tips to her lips to silence her. If a guard was to hear any such statement it could be reported and inspire longer "sessions". But my closeness to her face made me light and my head fogged with desire to kiss her. There might be secret camera watching our every movement or perhaps hidden microphones to record all our conversations to be used later against us. Perhaps they lied to keep us in a state of fear.
"Yes, we've done nothing but offended their own narrow view of love," I quietly whispered into her ear.
I could see she was very exhausted. Part of her wanted to lapse into wonderful unconsciousness and the other wanted to hurl herself at the cell door screaming like a lunatic unleashed. It was a common reaction to the majority of the prisoners. I tried to ease her back onto the bunk, my hand pressed to her chest and feeling her heart beating a frantic rhythm. It took some time to calm her down but she at last settled down and her eyes became heavy. Once she was asl**p I sat on the edge of my own bunk and looked at her. I would endure a session just to know the sensation of a woman's body pressed aainst mine.
I surled myself up on my bunk, slipped my hand inside the rough prison issue underpants and found my neglected cunt, rubbing the already engorged clitoris as thoughts of Kayla now filled my mind. Forgive me Alysia wherever you are. I love you, but the body is not so idealistic.
Suddenly I felt fingers grazing my exposed thigh which sent a torrent of electrical tingles rippling through my body. They quickly slipped between my legs and tickled that sensative outer flesh. I dared not open my eyes.
"Please don't let this be a dream," I whispered into the darkness that submerged the cell.
"I am very real, my love," I heard Pam's voice respond.
Her lips on the nape of my neck made me melt like a Salvador watch. The narrow bunk just barely accomodated the two of us. What if it collapsed under our combined weight. I didn't care at that moment. All the pain and fear faded into a lower precinct of the mind. Like blind man's bluff we explored one another's body. We were phantom dykes.
Pam's mouth pressed firmly against mine and I eagerly opened my lips and accepted her probing tongue. Our fingers moved rapidly over the contours of the other's body. I savour all the scents that our combined bodies emit. She slipd her hand under my arm and fondles the dense growth of hair growing there. Her body crushes down against mine. Her cunt grinds sweetly over my own and my mind spins. But I am still conscious of the danger that we could be in if a guard were to catch us at this moment. A light flashing into the cell and then the door opens and we are torn apart and dragged into the interrogation room. I cannot even imagine the degree of punishment we'd endure when the male interrogators practise their skills while the butch guards look eagerly on, lipping their lips at our pain and cries. I personally witnessed one such guard pressing her baton between her legs and rubbing herself in a very mastubatorial manner as she watched one of my interrogations. My legs were held wide open as the interrogator beat my vagina with a leather strap until I lapsed periodically into unconsciousness. The traitor dyke watched and licked her lips. I hated them all.
But somehow I successfully repressed those thoughts and immersed myself in the pleasure that I have been robbed of all these months. I no longer recall how long I have been here. Three....four...five months? It is timeless here within the walls of the prison.
All these thoughts intrude on my pleaure.
I want to consume Pam. I manage to get my face down between her legs and inhale deeply as if enjoying a bouchet of flowers the perfume of her cunt. The prison soap has faded somewhat and provokes a gallery of long lost lovers to flash through my mind. I devour them as I devour Pam. Her body arches off the bunk and then settles back down. I have found that oasis in the middle of this horrible desert.
When we are finished she kisses me quickly and returns to her own bunk. I lay in the dark and listen to her breath. I can just vaguely make out her body. I try to sl**p but my body and mind are on fire and want to go over to her and kiss every single freckle on her body, naming each after a lover or infatuation I ever had throughout my life. I would enjoy her company for as long as I could.
Finally I slipped off to a deep sl**p and I dreamed of a life beyond the prison and pain.

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