Three fingers were then pushed into her waiting hole. Franky’s body bucked and she thrust onto the hand. The tongue lapped at her clit aggressively while the fucking carried on. “Is this why they call it the pound?” Franky joked as she bit her lip and pushed hard back and forth, feeling the fingers almost leave her body each time. Ready for another explosion, she felt she would scream if they did.

Soon Franky felt that knot in her core and again jolted and writhed as another orgasm washed over her in agonising bliss. She collapsed onto the bed, spent and gasping for a smoke but whoever was in there was not done yet. She turned Franky onto her back and straddled her neck. Franky could feel that she was wearing a skirt but most of the women did. Who could it be? Not Doreen, or Chrissie, She was familiar with both of them and they weren’t as skilled as this bitch. It could be a powerplay from Bea but she was 100% straight and would have made a point of overpowering her.  It had to be someone who had a reason to stay anonymous. Either something to hide or something to lose. With the woman’s damp curls and sex in her face, Doyle literally could do this blindfolded. She lapped at her like a kitten at first and then probed and sucked more as her partner’s pleasure grew. Of course Franky was a professional and the woman came in no time but still not one sound escaped her. Clamped to her, Franky tasted every part of her crisis and didn’t stop licking until the woman squirmed and removed herself. Whoever she was she was a fucking beauty.

And then then it was all over, the woman, who ever she was, padded shoeless and silent out of the cell again and into the dark corridor. Not even a thanks or a postcoital fag. She locked the door as Franky managed to push the blindfold off her face with her bound hands. The woman was making an effort to not be seen through the bars and was crouching down, Not low enough to be completely out of sight though, Franky got a caught a glimpse of the top of her head and a distinctive widow’s peak as she hurried past the door’s aperture.

Barely believing what had just happened, she ran over it all in her mind. An earlier thought echoed back to her ‘she orchestrated the whole thing’.

She lit her last cigarette of the night and lay down on the dishevelled, bed linen. Covered in her own juices and that of her nocturnal visitor. When she’d finished, she stubbed it out and slept like a baby until Vera came to wake her in the morning.