Subserviently, he kissed both of her voluminous buttocks. She
looked smugly down her nose at Lavina.
`No way,' Sandra replied. `Sorry. Anyway, must go. I'm having
dinner with Josie and Mary. Bye and good luck.'
Sandra tugged the lead and her slave obediently stood and
followed his mistress at a respectful distance.
`See you, Darling,' Lavina called after her, then: `You fucking
bitch!' she added under her breath, before strutting down the
alleyway.
The prison was a large wooden building just on the outskirts of
town. It was run by the island's two shemale police officers,
Captain Aisha, an Afro-Caribbean, and her Sergeant Kiomi, a
Latino. The prison comprised of full living accommodation at the
back for the two officers, with four cells and an office at the
front.
The police officers were relaxing in their office as Lavina
entered.
`You'll have to wait,' Sergeant Kiomi said. `In there.'
To Lavina's consternation there were four other shemales sitting
in the waiting room. Overhead, the propeller-type ceiling fan
whirred, cooling the night air.
She picked up a magazine and sifted through the pages. The sounds
of muffled cries came from the cells area and the shemales tried
to ignore the noises of distress. It would only stimulate them
further and interfere with their patience while waiting.
The rules of the island were quite clear and any escapee knew
exactly what the consequences would be if they were caught. The
sentence was one week in the cells, which meant any shemale could
use them for a half-hourly session. The owner of the slave would
be allowed one session per day with the slave at any time. It was
usually chosen by the mistresses to be in the morning before the
other shemales hired them. That way they could have a good shag
before the slaves filled up too much with spunk. There was a lot
of demand for an escapee, such was the shortage of slaves.
It was twenty minutes before two shemales came in from the cells
with those satisfied smiles and tired-round-the-eyes look you get
after a good session of sex.
