Janet Roland - The whore makers

The two women licked and sucked on each other's twats until they were both drained of all the excess energy that built up so easily in the do-nothing environment of the prison. Each gasped as the other used her mouth to bring about the sexual satisfaction both were seeking.

Vivian shrieked loudly as the love-making ended. She was exhausted and ready to pass out as Rosita shifted her position and lay down next to her. She shut her eyes and sleep took her as the other woman's comforting arms wrapped around her and covered her with a protective softness.

"Vivian Long, you have a visitor."

The words woke Vivian from a light slumber. It was her fourth day in the Carcel Preventiva, and already she was used to the do-nothing passing of each moment. There had been no word from the Embassy or her father, and she found herself using orgasms and sleep the way a drug addict uses dope. She was convinced that her father would hold her predicament as ignominious to his political image and future and abandon her. Still, a visitor, she thought as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sprang from her bunk. Could it be help?

"Move your little ass!" boomed a burly matron as she unlocked the sliding bars. "If you want this visit, you'll be quick."

Vivian didn't take another second to think. She instantly slipped on her thongs and crossed into the cellblock. She didn't want to miss a visit with anyone.

She followed the matron out of the cellblock and down the corridors to the main desk and across to the section of offices where she had been searched upon her arrival and later fucked by the doctor.

She stood behind the matron as she bent and opened the door to the visiting room with her ring of keys. She passed into the room as the burly woman pushed open the door, and stood alone as the door was shut and locked behind her.

The room was the nicest of any she had seen so far in the prison. It was long and wide and admitted daylight through an open skylight. The only furnishings were a long table and four chairs that fit around it. The walls were painted a bright white, and there were several mounted photos of lovely Mexican scenery hanging from them. At the far end of the room was a barred window, the only reminder that the room was part of a prison.

Vivian walked over to the window and gazed out. It was the first window she had seen in almost a week. She was amazed at the brilliance of the day and the balmy weather. Tears began to well in her big green eyes as the longing to be free became stronger than ever.

She walked back to the table and assumed a seat. She found herself hopeful that it was someone from the Embassy who would be sane enough to believe her story.

The soft cushion of the seat was the most luxurious comfort that Vivian had experienced since her arrival in Mexico. She was aware that she was horny again. Not even the prospects of a visit were enough to ease the constant itch in her twat. Sex had become her total panacea when she was awake. There was never a problem in the cellblock finding someone to ease her need. It seemed almost all of the women were into lesbian love on one level or another.

I wonder how I look? she suddenly thought. She was still dressed in the same shabby outfit she had been given on her arrival, and it had been two days since her last shower. The fastidiousness of her past life was nothing more than a bitter memory of closets full of new clothing, hot baths, good food, and enough money to break the boredom of school whenever she felt the need to do so. Still, it was her father who provided these things for her and now she was no longer willing to accept anything from the man. Her own treatment was enough to show her that the altruistic gospel that her father preached for his constituents and his family was a lie. He would willingly use and abuse anyone to maintain his rank and privilege.

Vivian's thoughts about her lover Max were much the same. She was sure that if his love for her were true, he would have gone to her father before she left for Bogota and asked to marry her. Her multiple experiences with sex since her arrest had also left her with the feeling that the austere relationship with her big cowboy would never be enough to satisfy her newly awakened sexuality.

Vivian's mind returned to Rosita, her cellmate. The darling Mexican woman was her teacher and lover, keeping her out of trouble with the other prisoners and the matrons. The thought of the woman with her pert tits and pouting pussy made the girl shiver. Her own cunt was on fire.

"Ohhh…" she moaned as she allowed her hands to trail down the rough fibers of her clothing and fondle her pussy through the fabric of her jeans. Her own wantonness was more demanding than anything had ever been during her entire life. She was at the point of an orgasm constantly, and the fact that she was in the visiting room did little to relieve the demands her body was making.

Vivian rocked back and forth in the chair, her hands hidden from view under the table as she caressed her swollen cuntlips. For the moment her sexual drive allowed her to forget everything.

The touch of her fingers was so consuming that Vivian didn't even notice when the door to the room opened and a tall, good-looking Mexican entered. The man was dressed in a very expensive suit and stood over six feet tall. He stayed quietly in the doorway and watched the girl as she slowly twisted her way toward a climax, her eyes closed as she moved rhythmically in her seat, her pussy pressing against the flat of her hands.

Vivian gasped as she opened her eyes and saw the man in the doorway.

"How long have you been spying on me?" she asked reluctantly, removing her hands from her burning crotch.

"Only long enough to see the real temperature of your desires," he answered as he shifted his weight and jingled the change in his pockets.

"Who are you and why have you come to visit me?" Vivian asked, hoping the man with the piercing brown eyes was from the Embassy and had come to help her.

"My name is Jose and I'm a lawyer," he said as he walked over to the table and sat in one of the empty seats close to the girl. "You might say we have a mutual friend who told me about your problem."

A lawyer! Vivian thought, forgetting for a moment that she was horny. "Who is our friend?" she asked jubilantly, hoping that maybe Max or one of her friends in El Paso had found out about her problem.

"Tony Coin," Jose answered as he took a very expensive cigar from the inside pocket of his jacket and lit it.

The sound of the name "Coin" sent a tremble sweeping across Vivian's skin. She knew Maria Coin was the woman her father had jailed to advance his own political future. She also understood that Juan Maximillian was the girl's father, leaving Tony Coin to be her husband. She was certain he had been the one with the cattle prod during her rape at the Procuraduria.

"What else could that man want of me?" she asked after a long pause. "Hasn't he caused me enough suffering and humiliation already?"

The tall handsome lawyer just smiled at the girl's questions. He looked into her deep green eyes with his own piercing brown ones. He knew the effect of not speaking was often greater than all the epigrams in the world.

Vivian cringed under the man's constant gaze as the quiet grew repressive. She felt as though he were dissecting her thoughts, and it scared her.

"You might say that Mr. Coin has taken a certain amount of mercy upon you," Jose finally said, his voice rich with kindness. "After all, it is your father he really wanted to hurt and undo. It is your father who had brought grief to his proud Mexican family and put his wife behind bars."

"Yes, I k-know that," Vivian stammered. Her own newly acquired dislike for Joseph Long, her father, burned more than ever as she listened to the lawyer. She was certain that it was her father's fault that she was in a Mexican prison.