Alison Williams was in her late thirties, the assistant governor at a correctional facility. The appointment had been supported and aided by a senator friend. She met him every Monday for an extremely, steamy session.

Swish, whack, swish, whack, swish, whack, "You're a very naughty little boy, aren't you?" Alison demanded in a stern, commanding voice.

"Yes. Mistress," the Senator replied contritely.

"Your make-up is a mess and you're wearing my new silk knickers," she admonished him, as she continued to use the cane on his bottom.

The meetings were agreed for every Monday in the afternoon and. in return, he supported her rapid rise from a prison guard to assistant governor in only two years. She now had her eyes set on the Governor's appointment at Fostal Prison, a male correctional facility, where she could torment the inmates, extending her torment into torture; she hated men, with a vengeance.

"Get the dress off," she told him, after the twenty four strokes she had just administered.

The Senator did as told, whilst she stood and watched him with her hawk-like eyes, seeing every move. He stood in a padded bra, suspenders, knickers and stockings, with his head hung in mock shame.

Alison gazed at the figure before her, an overweight, slobbering, bald man, who looked ridiculous. She wondered why she bothered, apart from his money and, more importantly, his position and what it could do for her. She knew that continuing to play his games would enhance her chances at the next appointments meeting. She smiled to herself, if only he knew how much she hated these sessions. She enjoyed the power she had over him and inflicting the pain, that part she did for fun. Watching as his arse turned from a pasty white into a lovely purple and motley red from the cane she wielded, was a joy to her.

"You are a useless drip. What are you?" she demanded.

"A useless drip, yours to do with as you, please, Mistress," he replied, still with his head bowed and his hands behind his back in submission to her.

"Get on the bed on your back now," she said, forcefully.

The Senator lay on the bed on his back. He knew what was about to come and placed his hands by the side of the bed in readiness.

"Did I tell you to do that, hey?" Alison demanded.

"No, Mistress, sorry, Mistress," he replied.

"I want your hands above your head, I'm going to tie them to the bedhead so I can play with you. Now do it," she told him forcefully.

The senator placed his hands above his head. Alison took one, pulled it to the corner and tied it to the leg tightly. She walked around the bed and tied the other hand the same. The Senator looked at her as she worked, twisting his head around trying to see what she was doing. Alison just smiled at him, gripped his knickers and pulled them down and off him, then stood for a moment, gazing at his placid dick, hands on her hips and a look of dismay on her face at the offending item before her.

"I'm going to need tweezers, aren't I? Do you really expect me to get any satisfaction from that?" she asked in mock anger, pointing to his dick.

"No, Mistress," he replied sullenly.

Alison took one of his legs and pulled it to the corner of the bed and again tied it to the bed leg, then repeated the process with the other leg, opening his legs wide.

She moved away from the bed and turned her back on him, then half turned to look at him tied spread eagle to the bed and smiled inwardly as she gazed at the prostrate bulk on the bed, immobile and very, very vulnerable.

Once she was Governor of Fostal prison, she could dispense with these boring sessions, always the same, he had no imagination, she thought.

Alison turned and, with her back to him, removed her knickers and dropped them on the floor. She approached him and knelt above his head, looking down his body; she picked up a cock whip and lowered herself down onto his face. She moved about to rub her clit in and around his mouth. Then she settled on his mouth, suffocating him for a second or two, before lifting and telling him to begin to arouse her with his tongue.

"You're fucking useless, get it in and move it about. I want to feel the fucking thing, up there," she demanded and whipped his cock as she spoke.

She moved about, trying to get as much as she could do out of the session and watched as his cock began to rise to the occasion, so she whipped it.

"Not yet, I'll tell you when you can get a hard on, not before," she said and sat down, suffocating him again, then lifting to allow him to breathe as he continued to give her oral sex.

Alison had a wide skirt on, so that he couldn't see what she was doing as he worked on her clit. She would whip his cock and massage her breasts, pinching her nipples, to help get her ready for the next part of the session.

"Ok asshole, you can now get a hard on, I'm almost ready. Well, come on then, get it up. Do I need to whip it again to get it up? More, I want to feel the fucking thing entering me," she cajoled him, mocking him and smiling to herself as she took total control of the session.

It had the desired effect and his cock began to rise, she watched as it got bigger and bigger and smiled. It wasn't that small when he got it up; she took it in her mouth to help him. Ready, she moved from his face to his cock and slipped it inside her moist cunt and began to rise and fall slowly, just as he liked it. She moaned as she rode him. Long, slow strokes to begin with, then faster and faster, until she was ramming his cock into her hard and fast. The force was making their thighs slap as her buttocks collided with his thighs, as she hit them hard on the down stroke.

"Hold on, not yet, I'm not ready and you're here to please me, so you'd better hold on, you fucking waste of space. Too soon, I told you to hold on," she shouted at him as he came inside her.

She got off and whipped his cock in anger at his failure, then untied him and put her knickers on.

"Wow, Alison; that was fantastic. You were terrific. Now the job I told you about. It's at Fostil, not Fostal, but it's still a decent job and I know you'll get the post. Stay there for six months, then a move to Fostal, which is where you want to be," he said quietly, knowing that she wanted to be Governor at Fostal and that he had got his wires crossed.

"You what!" she exclaimed, "I want to be the Governor at Fostal prison, not Fostil. Are you getting senile? There are no men, at Fostil, so there are no sexual assault criminals and those bastards are the ones I want and then I can whip their cocks and balls just like I do yours. You fucking waste of space!" she yelled at him.

"Yes I know, but he's decided to continue for another year, or so. I'm not the only one with influence, you know. He was persuaded to continue, but the Governor at Fostal is weak, I never liked her as a Governor, you'll make a much better one. Then when he leaves Fostal, you'll also have a track record, a good one, I'll see to that.

"We need a few of the women prisoners to escape, just to show how weak she is and there's to be a refurbishment at Fostil. They want the old Confederate cells filled in, the ones under the garden area, they're very nice. They're dark, miserable and very, very secure for naughty prisoners. Go and have a look at the prison, a friendly visit," he suggested calmly, trying to calm her down.

Alison was not small, she stood in her stocking feet at five feet ten, she was broad, not fat, just big boned and with broad shoulders. Her father had been a circuit judge and she modelled herself on him, strong, forceful and resilient. Yet she had a soft spot for children, in particular, she had a daughter, an only child from a marriage following an unplanned pregnancy, who now lived with her father, Alison was a career woman.

Her strict upbringing with her three sisters and one brother moulded her into the person she was. She admired her father, but lacked his learning abilities and didn't manage to get into law as she had wanted to, like her younger brother. Her two older sisters were somewhat like her and had married well, but were now divorced and all three were struggling for cash.

There was one other sibling, a younger sister who at the age of sixteen was raped. She never got over it, committing suicide when she was eighteen. Alison's father died soon after and Alison knew that her sister's death had been a contributory factor in his death. Alison now had revenge in her heart for the death of her younger sister and father, both of whom meant so much to her.

As a prison officer, in a male prison, she had watched as a rapist was beaten up, only intervening when she heard the corridor door being unlocked. She ran into the scuffle, wielding her stick. She managed to start to break it up, but somehow missed the assailants and only hit the rapist as she lashed out at them with her stick to stop the beating. She got a reprimand for excessive use of her stick, but got the satisfaction that she had helped put him in the hospital.

Alison took the Senator's advice and visited the prison. She had been left alone in the quadrangle, the garden area. She looked around and found the entrance to the old Confederate prison. It was underground, she smiled as a plan formulated.